Not Your Average Ghostface X Reader

One

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️ STORY CONTAINS: Blood, gore, dead insects/entomology-pinning/taxidermy, domestic violence/domestic abuse, physical assault, graphic sexually explicit scenes, mask kink, breath play/choking, knife play, praise kink, degradation kink, blindfolding, cuckolding, and murder.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

DISCLAIMER (Read it, or beat it): Do not expect flawless realism because yours truly is too tired to tend to *every* nuance about modern day murder, crime execution, and healthy relationship and personal boundaries. This story is NOT something anyone should replicate and/or take seriously. It's fiction. Fantasy. It's alllll just entertainment, baby. ALSO: This is less of a "Scream" fanfic, and more just of a 'man behind a mask' type of deal. So if you're expecting to see Billy or Stu or any other beloved character from the franchise, while I understand your initial disappointment this is not that kind of story. Just some characters I conjured up from my increasingly questionable imagination.

Buckle up, buttercups.

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It takes a very steady hand to pin a dead bug.

A moth, at least, has a softer exoskeleton than something like: say, a beetle or hornet. It didn't need as long to rehydrate.

Shades of lime and emerald green seemed to sparkle in the air like specks of pixie dust as a few, teeny-tiny scales had sloughed off the moths wings. Inevitable despite the tender care you provided, but you had perfected your craft up to a point where it was the bare minimum of damage. The finished specimen looked near flawless.

As delicate and precise as you could, you positioned it to your liking. In the lighting of your craft room, the vivid color itself looked almost alive; despite the carcass it was attached to being very much... not.

With a content smile you finished framing it within a small shadow box adorned a sleek black border. Your first luna moth. And it was a beauty.

Getting up from where you sat -and ignoring the subtle pops in your aching skeleton from sitting awkwardly for a while, you walked your new piece over to some of the others. Your collection was small, but larger than the average persons whopping amount of none. A couple sweetheart underwings, those were common to find here but you adored the rich reds that contrast to their black and brown. Your first (successful) specimen was a sphinx moth. A bit dull in color preference but you were charmed by the unique shape. And now, you had a gorgeous luna to add to it.

You had done this many a more times but to save on space and make a few extra bucks you had a relatively successful side hustle selling them off etsy. It was a niche market, but a buzzing one.

You'd like to start tinkering with bigger varieties, or start dabbling with things like wet specimens and diaphonosing. But you lacked the space, at the moment. At least with these you could hang them up on the walls like a picture frame. But organs and dyed bones in glass jars was a little more cumbersome in terms of space occupation. Plus, your boyfriend would go nuts if your house started smelling like a funeral parlor.

He didn't even know about this little hobby. But he wanted to spend the day at your place, which apparently meant watching whatever game was on in your living room that was arguably much nicer than his futon back home.

To be honest, if it meant you could be alone for a few hours and tend to your hobbies then that was fantastic. He seldom left you alone as of late. It was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. And that was on a good day.