Get Stuffed: Chapter 1

Note: “The killer John Carver aka Eric Newlon from thanksgiving movie 2023 is a DILF. Do some x readers of him whenever you get the time to see the movie.” Also posted on AO3. There’s bad dark humor and mention of male anal.

Imagine Sheriff Newlon kidnapping you, but not because he’s out for revenge.

So the Carver’s a cat person, you thought, after just missing your neighbor’s murder. The killer patted Dewey, who nonchalantly ate dry food, while Manny’s body lay a couple yards away, open neck spewing blood all over the floor. 

Out of habit, you’d immediately locked the door behind you. With a murderer on the loose, it had seemed like a safe choice. As a security guard, Manny would have approved. As a corpse, Manny would remain unmoved. And have to settle for being the most useless warning ever. 

John Carver straightened up. You readied the spare key in your fist, behind your back. He could probably guess what you were doing, but he hadn’t rushed you yet. Lizzie McMullan’s lower half had been displayed way up on the RightMart sign. Manny was headless. The killer was clearly determined and seemed to have a game plan. You were a surprise. And you could be a bombshell. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you Americans don’t celebrate Guy Fawkes Day?”

A chuckle escaped from beneath the mask. Nobody moved. Except Dewey, who had almost finished dinner. 

“Where’s the head?”

The Carver indicated a black bag on the table. Out of reflex, you looked. Gave him an opening. 

You felt the prick on your neckline before locking eyes. Or trying to, because John Carver was blatantly ogling your breast. Or maybe just the dart sticking out right above your girls. Hopefully. 

Then he rushed you, to catch your bountiful form before it slumped to the floor. 

Note: If Tumblr wasn’t afraid of nudity, I would’ve used a gif of VIP 4 undressing. Also, the VIP masks aren’t as cool as the pink guys’, but no one’s allowed to say that. :P

Imagine Jun-ho and you being forced to service VIP 4 with a double blowjob.

“Don’t be afraid to let your tongues touch,” drawled the man behind the bear mask.

Jun-ho’s tongue had been in your mouth many times before, and vice versa. You never dreamed Detective Hwang of all people would share his lover’s mouth, as well as his own, with such a boorish individual.

The one silver lining: only the VIP was naked. Except for that gaudy mask. Hopefully, your mouths would be the only orifices getting penetrated that night. Your boyfriend’s hand crept toward your pelvis. The VIP sighed in bliss. Seemingly unaware, or uncaring, that Jun-ho was trying to make the experience less unpleasant for you.

“Hm, I bet on the wrong sixty-nine earlier.”

He’s a voyeur, you noted, of death. So the sex- The ursine gentleman’s fingers grazed your nape. In sync with Jun-ho slipping past your waistband.

At least we’re not getting rawed by pink guards.

Imagine making it to the final round and two of the Pink Soldiers take turns eating your pussy, during the dinner, to show their “gratitude.”

Of course they’re the Circle guys.

“So,” you mumbled, “are the Triangles and Squares too good for this?”

The guard with his nose currently mashed against your clit, presumably unmasked under the table, licked harder. Desperate to please. Good soldier. Your fellow players were too engrossed with their plates to notice you getting head. No one else was. Or had, as far as you knew.

“I mean, the table’s triangular.” You waved your fork, before thinking better of making conspicuous gestures. It was hard to resist slamming the utensil down. “Or are Triangle Masks only interested in penetration?”

Your other admirer subtly tapped his friend. Indicating his turn to pleasure you. And he tried. But eating in this situation was hard enough. Getting eaten…

The second Circle was sloppier. Treating giving brain like a make-out session. He wasted no time in pushing his tongue inside. Latching his lips onto yours. Increasingly wet, you still knew you couldn’t finish in such a faux romantic setting. Sighing, you decided to enjoy dinner in peace. The tap on his shoulder didn’t quite stop his administrations. His mouth popped open, anticipating your gracious slick. A tap to the forehead informed him he was relieved of his duties.

He actually took off his mask for me.

It was flattering. (The other guy just pushed his up.) But you wished they’d acted on their crushes five games ago. Six, even. Though you weren’t sure what they could have done about those rounds of ddakji. At that point, you wouldn’t have let mysterious masked men muff dive. Well, not without someone buying dinner first.

Speaking of… you remembered where you were. Better focus on eating in, not eating out.

Later, when the other players were a safe distance ahead of you on the walk back, a Square Mask matched your step.

“Make your way to the hallway after lights out.” Gloved fingers brushed your hip. “We will make sure you finish this time.”

Should you have been more excited by his promise of “we” or “will”?