#I'm so under qualified to write for him please someone feed my stu addiction i beg

[batsforbadones]

Crooked - Stu Macher X Fem!reader

TW- Non/Con Photography.

Stu had started looking at porn when he was four. Of course most four year olds didn't know what porn was, and Stu didn't either. All he knew was that his mother really didn't like him looking at women naked, so he went out of his way to look at naked women. At the store, at the video place, on posters, and on TV-

Stu figured, as he starred at the black jewelry box in his hands, that's a pretty common start to sexual deviancy. Anybody whose born just a little crooked would probably be encouraged by being told off for said crookedness. Maybe even a little excited. But Stu wasn't one to think about stuff like that. He'd stopped thinking about it once that crookedness became less of a hobby and more of a trait. He realized he didn't have to prove he was crooked.

He just was.

Stu smiled, starring at your initials atop the black box. They were crooked as well. You had prodded him for it, and he had laughed, reasoning that there was a limit to how smooth he could be with a pocket knife. He remembered also holding back a line about how that was a dirty lie. How, if the top had been something like, say, skin the letters would've turned out beautifully. He bit his tongue though, brushing off your teasing as if he had an inside joke that made him wiser.

He opened the box, bony fingers reaching in to hook a pair of black, high quality, lace panties. Your panties- Your favourite pair, with good reason, until about a month ago. It had been exactly twenty four days since you lost your virginity to Stu. Usually it was the girl that kept that kind of souvenir, but Stu couldn't resist keeping such a thing. It was embarrassing, but he begged you for them. Nearly got on his hands and knees, too. You found the dedication endearing for some reason he couldn't quite place. The virginity pair was supposed to be super important to the girl, right? He took it as a compliment though. Not only did you trust him enough to spread your legs for the first time, but you trusted him enough to keep the proof, what? Just lying around? It wasn't like he told you what he was going to do with them.

He doubted you'd expect this.

Your panties, unwashed, wasn't even what he was looking for. Nor was it your purity ring he'd stolen , or a petal from the roses you got him for his birthday- No, the center piece to his dedication box was a thirteen count stack of polaroids the two of you had taken.

The first polaroid in the bunch was taken by Sid. It was you and Stu standing in line for the ferris wheel, that neon blue behemoth of a bear he won glued to your hip, dragging its plush bear paws against the wet concrete. No matter how many times he offered to carry it, you were dead set to keeping it attached to your side. Stu also recalled how mad Billy was at him for winning the bear first. He wanted that damn bear for Sid so fucking bad. Stu just had to have it for you. Something about that win and the angry, vile way Billy starred at you carrying that bear the entire night really made that memory photographable.

The next seven photos followed a similar format. Taken by either you or Stu, you two were doing normal couple things. A date in the park- you two kissing - something artsy for you to show off to your friends. He never got the big deal about you bragging about him. He wasn't anything special, but god did you talk like he was. ' My boyfriend Stu did this- My boyfriend Stu did that- My boyfriend Stu is so tall and fit and lean and god I wanna suck his big dick like a lollipo- '

Stu paused to fantasize for a moment.

Nah- That was too out of character, even for you. Stu knew that. Although the next polaroid told a different story- With his hand over your eyes to block out any defining features, there was your mouth. It was wrapped around his dick, as if you were some faceless monster chick whose only role in life had been to suck him dry- 

There was something special about only him knowing who was the subject of that picture. About knowing whose hand covered your pretty eyes. Whose lips those were- Whose dick it was.

While Stu was a fan of regular, fucked up porn, he was a much, much bigger fan of this amateur avant garde shit the two of you put out. Especially when it was you, naked, back against his poster clad bedroom wall, wearing only some lacy thigh highs he'd already put a couple of holes in. He could remember the song that drowned your moans out as he shakily snapped the picture, told by the smear, and then got down on his knees to eat you like a buffet. That was the next picture. It was taken from your angle, but you were shaking too hard to hold the camera, so he took it for you. In his, and your, opinion, Stu looked rather handsome with his wide smile and nose wet like that. He wouldn't shut up about how handsome he was after eating pussy, either. 

He flipped through the remaining two. As lovely as it was to see you getting plowed by him, it truly was one of his favourite things to see, the sight paled in comparison to the thousand... No- Million words that the last photo wrote.

Framed in a gentle white box, with a simple heart he'd drawn in sharpie, there was your bare, sleeping form pressed against his. His eyes were cut off by the boarder, leaving only his slimy grin peaking out from strands of your hair. While he favoured his own exclusion, he was ticked that it cut you off just before your pussy. He wasn't really mad, though. Something about never being able to see the jewel made him even more riled. To pair that with your bruise covered body, neck, and jaw, the picture was his perfect edge.

He'd taken the picture just after the first time- without your knowledge- and there, in the corner of your white bed sheets was a tiny splotch of blood that Stu took way more joy than he'd like to admit in starring at. There was so much weight behind the photo- The nasty of it- The crookedness.

And as he splattered your sleeping body with his come for the fifth time, the picture got a little heavier.

#stu macher #ghostface x reader #ghost face x reader #stu macher x reader #if i see another person only write for billy im gonna cry #i get it skeet ulrich is pretty #but matthew lillard is pretty too plEASE #scream #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher fic #i see so many good requests for ghost face and then they only write for Billy #I'm so under qualified to write for him please someone feed my stu addiction i beg #also please request my inbox is dry

[batsforbadones]

MORE STU SMUT MORE STU SMUT MORE STU SMUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pwease :3 💕

!!!!! I’ll try my best! This movie, which i have watched on multiple occasions and still fail to grasp not only the plot but the characters, haunts me to no end.

This one will be x fem but if any of you want me to write something else, I’m down for that. Sorry if this seems rushed.

Music, specifically songs, didn’t need a name. The idea that they did, that a name said all you needed to know about a song, you found pretentious. Other than it being a word the song said occasionally, or it’s method of music ( See : Symphony- Quartet- Choir- Hymn ) the idea that a name held that much weight was ridiculous to you.

Although you wouldn’t necessarily describe the man as a song - he was more or less a violent crash against a drum set, or maybe an extremely out of tune guitar - He still didn’t need a name. Even if you wanted one, you didn’t ask. That formality was thrown out of the window when he threw himself in through yours, covered in bright red paint, and introduced himself as ‘Just some guy. On the run from the cops. You?‘

That was a great question, you had thought. Your only means of response was a shrug. ‘Some chick, harboring a fugitive, I guess.‘ He found that funny, the guy. He let out a tiny, breathy chuckle, grabbing his chest as if that was some form of assurance. He reached behind him, not breaking eye contact as he slowly closed your window, leaving two, splotchy, long red hand prints on the white frame. He turned, took a last glance through it, and then slowly closed your curtains.

He turned back to you, smiling wide, eyes squinted.

“ Hey, some chick, mind if I- “ He gritted his teeth together and pointed to the floor.

“ Crash? “

“ Yes. “ He said, smile returning. He grasped his hands together, pressing his face into a pout to beg properly. You gave him a once over. The red stained, over sized, lime green polo set off plenty of red flags, and, at first, you didn't over look them.

“ I don’t know man. “ You mumbled. Though he looked sweet, and the prospect of such a thrill excited you beyond belief, you weren’t stupid. “ You could be like- a killer. “

“ Not yet. “

“ Do you have plans to be? “ He snorted, waving down.

“ Yeah, but like, who doesn’t? “ That was a fair point, you realized. And despite how serious your gut told you he was, it yearned him a spot on your floor atop your Polly pocket blanket. The spray paint had dried, he assured you. Which it had. Polly stayed pink and pretty despite the boy's- grime. He would look odd clean, though. You knew that right away.

That was a defining feature to the guy. His willingness to not only get, but stay filthy. He was just like that, you'd come to find. That night was only the first in the long string of times he snuck into your house, asking for refugee from whatever he'd manage to piss off that day.

The excuses were always ridiculous. At all times were they over the top and clearly lies. He had a spot on your floor regardless. It became a running gag to ask why he was breaking in, to which he'd always respond with something completely absurd.

' My friend Billy is gonna fucking stab me. ' You believed that full heartedly. 

' I accidentally came inside my girlfriend. She gave my this black eye. ' He had the black eye to back that one up.

One night you had asked the question, and he just smiled big and wide like he always did, sitting down on your bed like a father about to tuck you in. He leaned real close to you, pressing his thumb into the center of your chest, right between your breasts. You stayed silent, looking down at his hand.

" I was going to lie and act like a couple of dogs with like, mega rabies were chasing me, but honestly I'm just really horny. " He explained. He flattened his palm against your chest, which is when you noticed he was shaking. " I thought you could help with that. "

" Don't you have a girlfriend? "

" Not anymore. " There was a slight shift in his eyes. Like it was a lie, but- not a normal one. Against better judgement, you took his word for it. " Then yeah. I can help with it. " There it was. That big, goofy grin, the widest you had ever seen it, in fact. He knew the effect it had on you, as his hand was sliding down to your stomach to poke at it. " You can? " " Yes. " " Are you sure you can? " " Are you doubting me, window boy? " " Window boy! That's a new one. I've heard creep, heathen, criminal, hooligan, delinquent- " He prattled, " But window boy? " He scoffed. " Don't bully me, now. " " You'd probably be into it if I did. " " You're not wrong, but still- " " Oh, I'm not wrong? " You asked, " Do you want me to keep calling you window boy while we fuck? " A deeply satisfied look crept onto his face along side a heavy blush. " How about, " He took your hand, bringing it up to his scalp. Your fingers latched onto his hair, giving it a gentle tug. " How about your bitch? " " My bitch? " He bit his lip, nodding. He leaned forward, his lips, chapped and dry, ghosted against yours. He quickly pecked you three times, laughing at your shock. " Yeah. " He said. " Okay, " You paused. " Bitch. " Even you had to admit you didn't sound very convincing. He snorted. Dropping his head onto your chest. " No- you have to like, mean it. " He explained, " Get angry- get heated. I'm a bitch, right? " He taunted. " Then treat me like one. " " You haven't done anything to make me mad. " You shrugged. " What am I supposed to do? Conjure rage out of thin air? " " I mean, yeah. " You rolled your eyes. " Do you want me to make you mad? " " Sure. You can try. " " Uh- Bitch. Whore. Slut! " He said, excitedly. You tried, you really did, to muster up any form of anger against the guy, but the look of thrill on his face made you too gushy. You shook your head. " Nah. Now that I know you're trying I can't manage it. " " Makes sense. Not to be a dick, but you're really easy to walk over. "  You paused, the guy standing. With a hand on the back of his neck, he bent back abruptly, popping his spine. " What? " You questioned. " You're a bit of a doormat. " He repeated. " A push over. Easy to manipulate. " " Easy- Excuse me? " " Do I need to repeat myself, or are your two brain cells taking their time processing? " " Last time I checked, I wasn't the lowlife breaking into houses. " He turned quickly, rushing back to your side to press his forehead against yours. " Last time I checked, I wasn't the dumb bitch letting strangers into her house past the haunting hour, but hey- " He ranted, " Last time I checked I also had more than two brain cells, so- " " Fuck you. " " See, that's what I was trying to get at this whole time- " You pushed him roughly, the boy going down with ease. He let out a laugh as you jumped to straddle him, pressing his arms to his chest. " Fuck yes! " He laughed. " Get mad! Get mad! " He encouraged. You grabbed his shirt collar, yanking it down to the middle of his arms. " Hey, hey! " He whined. " You're gonna stretch my shit- " " I don't want you crying when I come on your face, and it gets on your cheap shit. " " Cheap? " He feigned offense. " This is from abecrombie- " You began slipping out of your pajama pants, pulling them off to reveal your pantie clad lower body. The boy went quiet, starring down at your under wear. " Dr. Seuss, " He laughed. " Charming. " You felt him shift uncomfortably beneath you, letting his head lull back. " Having issues? " " I can't move my arms, and I really- really want to stroke my dick right now. " " Wow. That sounds like it sucks. " " It does. "

" Good. " He laughed again, moving his legs up to nudge at your back. His knee feebly tried to raise your shirt, the concentration on his face making you all the more heated. " Come on- Shirt off? " " Ha- No. " You mused. He groaned. " You're killing me. " " Well, I will be in a second. " You scooted up to place your groin over his mouth. He starred up at you with wide eyes. A grim smile broke out on his face, his eyes dragging over Thing One and Thing Two. He nipped at you, making you lean back quickly. " Careful their, buddy. I have full option to dick punch you right now. " His smile melted into a look of content, face turning red at the prospect. " That's a threat? " " Gross. " " Pussy. On my tongue. " He stuck his tongue out from between his teeth. " Now please. Give bitch his meal. " " Get to it yourself. " You sat down as he wished, the boy smiling against your covered cunt. The curve of his teeth against your clit made you twitch slightly. Rolling your shoulders back, you got comfortable as you watched him struggle to get past The Cat in the Hat. His struggle wasn't long. He wasn't patient, it seemed, as you heard a harsh rip, felt a tug, and then a content, breathy laugh against your pussy. You looked back down to find the boy spitting out the fabric of your underwear, face red. " All we could do was sit! Sit! Sit! " The boy mocked, looking impressed with himself. " And we liked it a lot more than a little bit. " His tongue dragged a wet stripe from your taint to your clit, you gasping as he did such. He was by no means an expert, but the boy made up for it with enthusiasm. He nipped and licked with too much vigor for you to notice any lack of skill- And you rode his face until you came.

‘ Did I make you mad ? ‘ And you kept the memory after he stopped showing up. It was locked away- Used only for when you were lonely- Which was pretty often. It was the last time you'd see him, you figured. The last time that racket of a boy would sneak into your house. Unfortunate, you thought. It was something else.

And then you learned his name from the news.

#stu macher x reader #I'm so under qualified to write for him please someone feed my stu addiction i beg #stu macher #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher fic