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sourhoneybunny · 4 months

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Don't Have to Tell Me Twice

unspecified!ghostface x reader

as much as ghostface loves to hear you beg and plead and repeat yourself, you don't have to say your safe word twice.

unspecified ghostface so you can imagine your fav, knife play (written by someone who is not into knife play), dom/sub dynamic, corruption, degrading, begging, slight fluff.

sidenote I'm so sad to see that by the time I've gotten around to this req, my lovely mutual's acc is gone :(( one of my first mutuals and supporters too 💔 I hope if you get another acc we can find each other again!!

It had become a strange, irregular occurrence within the past month. Ever since the first of October, it seemed that you had become Ghostface's bitch, for lack of a better word. A few random nights a week, you would hear the house phone ring on the dot of midnight. If you didn't answer it on the first try, a mistake you made the first time Ghostface attempted to make contact with you, then the phone would repeatedly ring as the front door banged and shook with wild, despotic knocks.

You'd since then learned your lesson. You'd learned how fun your rewards were when you answered the phone like a good girl. Every time the mysterious stranger would visit you, you got to experience a whole new realm of pleasure that overtook your entire being. Every time, it was something new. Ropes, gags, blindfolds—the thrill and suspense of not knowing when they would decide to pay you a visit or what they would do next was half the excitement. There were nights where you'd anticipate their arrival, waiting excitedly by the phone like a lovestruck teenager.

But some days they wouldn't call. They loved to keep you on edge, waiting, and begging. Fuck, did they love to hear you beg and plead. It had practically become a mandatory part of your meetups.

And tonight was no different.

"Say it." You heard the now, all too familiar, modulated voice say from behind you. "Tell me what you want."

"You!" With your hands bound behind your back, you threw your head back, hair cascading around your shoulders, and arched your ass into the ghoul's towering frame. "I want you. Oh my god, please."

"Where, little girl? Use your words, dumb bitch."

"Cunt, in my cunt, please." You whined and begged and bounced pathetically, so desperate to feel their touch.

Their gloved hand snaked from gripping your waist to around south to touch you underneath the thin, dampened fabric of your underwear. They swiftly went to work, rubbing your clit in the pattern they'd come to learn drove you crazy.

But you'd yet to catch on to what trick they had up their sleeve tonight.

That is, until you felt a small, cold line trace over the delicate stretch marks that acted as a state line between your hip and upper thigh, before your underwear briskly fell to the floor with a subtle snap. You opened your eyes and looked down to catch your own reflection on the silver blade of a butcher knife grasped tightly in your lover's hand before it disappeared from your peripheral.

You felt Ghostface's hips press against your ass, and then the blade's edge met the trail of your spine, tracing upward. They removed their fingers from your swollen heat, receiving a whimper of dismay from you, before tantalizingly running their fingers over your stomach, around your waist, up your back, and over your shoulder blades, before finally finding their place entangled between locks of your hair. Grasping harshly, they yanked your head back against their sternum, now holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

With your head now up, you could see your full reflection in your dresser mirror. You'd been stripped down to only your bra, arousal beginning to run down your legs, and that overpowering, ghostly figure stood tall and proud behind you, practically enveloping you in their cloak of corruption.

With their other hand, they moved their knife up to where your long hair was wound around their thick fingers.

"What if I just cut off all your beautiful hair, right now?" They lowered their disguised face closer to yours and spoke quietly, "Every time you look in the mirror, you'll be forced to remember the damage and destruction I can inflict on you whenever I damn please." The knife moved to ghost over your throat, down to your collarbones. "I could really leave my mark on you, honey. Do you wanna be humiliated, ruined for me? All you have to do is beg for it."

During their spiel, your breathing stilled and your pupils dilated in fear. Bruises, bite marks, taking your virginity, all that you could handle. Knives on the other hand, you were quickly learning, might be too frightening for you.

You shook your head slightly and they tutted at you.

"Oh, c'mon, honey, you don't want to play helpless victim for me? But I know you're so good at it." They cooed as they made a surface-level incision over the tissue of your breast that bubbled over your bra line. A small line of blood began to bead up to the surface of your delicate skin, and you inhaled sharply as you watched in the mirror, your previously static brain coming to its senses enough to say the one word you needed to say in that instant.

"Red."

The knife was immediately discarded to the ground with a clanking noise.

"Red, red." You repeated desperately in a frantic panic.

"Hey, shh," Ghostface unlocked the binds holding your hands together before gently turning you around and ripping off a small piece of fabric from the loose hanging sleeve of their cloak, dabbing up the blood from your chest. After pocketing the blood-soaked scrap like a memento, they pulled you into their arms and you happily reciprocated by reaching up and wrapping your arms around their neck, nuzzling your face into it while releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

Admittedly, you felt ashamed. This was the first time you'd had to use your safe word. You were so sure you'd never need to. You wanted to accept anything and everything Ghostface gave to you. You felt so special that they'd chosen you out of all the other girls in town, and you were afraid that if you weren't strong enough to take on everything they wanted of you, they would easily replace you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," You repeated. You were good at doing that.

"It's okay, baby doll, you don't have to apologize." They ran their hand soothingly over the sore spot on your scalp. "I'm proud of you for using your safe word."

You lifted your head up to look at that uneasy expression set in a permanent scream, "But... But I didn't want to ever use it. I want you to be proud of me. I wanna be good enough for you."

"I wouldn't keep coming back here if you weren't good enough for me. If you ever feel uncomfortable, use it. You don't have to beg, you don't have to tell me twice when you need me to stop." They looked you in the eye as they spoke, though you couldn't exactly say the same.

You nodded in response, still a bit shaken. "I guess... Seeing myself bleeding... Wasn't my favorite thing." It felt like a silly admission, considering what else Ghostface did in their free time.

"If that's the case, darling, let's agree the only blood on my hands will be that of my enemies, deal?" They held up their hands in a joking manner.

You smiled up at them, lovestruck and absolutely whipped for this person who's face you'd never even seen, "Deal."

"Wanna try this again?" They asked, pressing soothing kisses to your bruised wrists, "Without the knives this time."

"God, yes, please. Please."

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