#(who is the detective in this au 👀) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

There were a total of 171.5 billion posts on Tumblr in 2019.

#(who is the detective in this au 👀)

walkman-cat · 9 months

Note

please please tell me things about your detective noir au, it's been living in my head rent free since I saw it

OH BOY !! I love detective noir au soso much thankyou to @pigeonwit for writing the thing which incited me creating it and for helping me with a lot and for being enthusiastic about it ! wbwbw !!

I’ve been using it as a fun design project over a story project for the time being, so plot has been put on a back burner while i focus on research and costume design (and funky character dynamics), but I have got a random assortment of Things I’ve thought up for it wbwbw!

First things first: it’s set in 1927-1928, and I’m using a lot of uksies versions of the characters/character dynamics.

Davey’s (obviously) a Private Eye; he’s somewhat well known because he’ll take any case (it doesn’t matter if his client can’t afford his rates, he’ll solve the case for free) and will not stop until it is solved (sometimes to the detriment of his health). He clings to his morals so hard he leaves fingernail-shaped indents; he’s trying soso hard to stay afloat and keep his head above new york’s criminal underbelly (which is difficult when one of the most influential and feared mob bosses in the city has decided you’re her Good Pal). Most of what he earns goes to his family, he has to provide for them somehow, to return all they did for him somehow. He’s constantly exhausted, he doesn’t remember a time he hasn’t been exhausted.

He’s still autistic and still Jewish I’m never taking that from him wbwbw (he speaks English, Yiddish, Polish, and some Hebrew)

Jack’s the Homme Fatale character. He’s shady, he’s putting on a front, he’s very morally grey, he’s trying so desperately to escape the situation he’s in and find the means to live the life he wants to live over the live he’s been given that he sinks deeper and deeper into crime and the shadier part of the city. He was still a newsie and friends/brothers with Race and Crutchie, and is still in contact with them both.

just imagine michael jack with a long cigarette holder. Those are the vibes.

Did you see me say “unshakeable morals” when describing Davey? Yeah I lied. He killed a man in cold blood once, and he was terrified of how little he felt guilty over it, and how readily he’d kill again if he was in the same situation. The city is seeping in injustice and violence and a part of him was suffocated a long time ago. He tries not to think about it.

He also threatened to kneecap Race’s dad once <3 My guy is clinging onto the concept of Right and Wrong but also has a frequent urge to Maim Bite Kill.

Jack, despite his moral gray-ness, has never killed.

oh btw there’s javid somewhere in there. They’re very detective-thief enemies-to-annoyances-to-lovers (pidge has their dynamic in this au DOWN in this post)

Kath is simultaneously the Fast-Talking Reporter (Kit Plumber) and Dame With A Case (Katherine Pulitzer). She’s less interested in journalism as an industry than she for it’s Purpose, when she stumbles into something she shouldn’t or delves to deeply into an investigation and her bosses tell her to drop it and Forget, she goes either to Jack (as Kit) or to Davey (as Katherine)— sometimes to both.

She doesn’t know that they don’t know that Kit and Katherine are the same person (Jack has no idea Kit Plumber is anything other than a reporter, doesn’t need to ask; Davey has his suspicions over how and why an heiress has yet another case of corruption or something involving the mob, but he doesn’t voice them because she’s generous and maybe also his friend??). This leads to Shenanigans.

People whisper about Spot Conlon in fear throughout New York’s boroughs. She’s a mob boss, and her “family”’s influence has seeped so deep into the city that some people say he’s the real person running it. (Many of the Brooklyn newsies are her lieutenants). She’s also decided that Davey is one of her close friends and allies (because Lillie said that Spot and Davey would be friends and I think it’s funny that this really feared mob boss thinks Davey is his Good Pal and has him over sometimes).

She/He Spot Conlon Real (the rumours and whispers sometimes refer to Spot as a woman, sometimes as a man, and Spot couldn’t care less.)

Spot owns the speakeasy Medda runs and performs at, and it’s her “family” that supplies it with alcohol. Crutchie’s the pianist and Race is its Shady Bartender. He keeps letting Jack into the speakeasy so in retaliation she invites Davey over (with the pretence of exchanging information) because she knows Race doesn’t like Davey very much.

Race’s initial dynamic with Davey is very similar to how it is in act 1 of uksies (Race somewhat hates mostly dislikes and definitely doesn’t trust Davey). By the time the plot begins they’re on slightly better terms (they have a funky dynamic I can’t exactly explain atm but I will one day, but I’ll just say Race trusts Davey mostly because Splasher trusts Davey. Also Davey threatened to kneecap his father when his father found him so there’s also that).

Splasher and Davey have a funky found family dynamic too wbwbw!! Davey helped Splasher one time and Splasher thought he was very cool and started following him around and finding evidence for him (who let this child into mob territory who let this child look at corpses). One time Splasher found a recently-executed body in the East River and he called Davey his dad while Davey was soothing him. Davey calls him boychik.

The newsies of lower manhattan all know Davey as Splasher’s older brother/father figure and Les’ big brother. And also as the guy whose office they hang out in all the time.

Splasher also knows Spot because he’s really good friends with Pips. Pips calls Spot “Spottie”. That’s all.

I’d like it to be very clear that Davey and Jack are both having The Worst Time Of Their Lives but they look so so cool while doing it.

wbwbw that’s all i can think of now, and pretty much all that I’ve explored so far but thank you soso much for asking about detective noir au! it’s a fun time and i enjoy researching designing for it soso much wbwbw

#jack design soon maybe 👀👀👀#anyways wbwbw #sorry for the really really long post wbwbwb #newsies #david jacobs #jack kelly #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #splasher newsies #detective noir au #wbwbw #answered #angry-kid-with-no-money #it’s javey but the ravey dynamic is so weird and maybe a little alterous who knows #there’s a Thing happening there

31 notes · View notes

neowinestainedress · 6 months

Text

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again. Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n 𝐖𝐂: 10.662k 𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.

It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask.

Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody.

And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro.

The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside.

When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.

It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver.

You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever.

Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.

There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him.

What’s on the other side is worse.

“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture.

“Surpriiise!!”

Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting.

“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck.

You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.”

You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh.

“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?”

You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.”

He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?”

“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt.

He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”

Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle.

“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.”

You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed.

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.”

You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin.

The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on.

“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up.

“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead.

But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.”

You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”

His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose.

“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.”

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.”

A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens.

“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what��you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.”

“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.”

You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.”

“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?”

You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.

“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.”

You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be.

“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.

“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.

“Why?”

“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour.

“So, you’re just going to keep me here?”

“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?”

Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat.

You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?”

“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.”

You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction.

“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away.

“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”

You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?”

You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought.

“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?”

“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow.

“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.”

You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you.

“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.”

“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”

The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself?

He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?”

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again.

“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department.

You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans.

“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?”

Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.

“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?”

His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.”

You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.”

“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.”

You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop.

“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. “We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.”

Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle.

He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”

You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?”

“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again.

Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.

“Will it — will it break my heart?”

He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?”

Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not.

“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.”

“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again.

“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”

“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair.

“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.

You gulp and automatically close your legs.

“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.”

“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —”

“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”

You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest.

“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.”

Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating.

“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.

“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.

“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.”

Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.”

He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?”

“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right?

“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.”

You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be.

“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.”

“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.

“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving.

You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass.

The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette.

He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down.

Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?”

You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?”

He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.”

You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.”

He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.

He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.”

When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.”

Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.”

You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?”

“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.”

Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.”

Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward.

“We didn’t kill anybody there.”

You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?”

“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?”

You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you.

“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.”

You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.

“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down.

“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask.

He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly.

“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to.

“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.”

You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.

“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie.

You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.”

“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.”

He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.”

Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky.

“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip.

You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you.

You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.”

The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones.

You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.”

“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly.

“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?”

A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ”

You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person.

It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.

“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?”

“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds.

“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.”

“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment.

“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.”

You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.”

Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done.

“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.”

“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly.

“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?”

But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess.

A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words.

“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.”

“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity.

He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?”

You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?”

You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.”

He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.”

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again.

“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin.

“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust.

“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair.

You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs.

You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.

Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly.

And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it.

“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?”

You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation.

The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?”

“No,” you mumble.

“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.”

His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly.

You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.

“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?”

Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.”

You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.

“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.”

You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.”

“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it.

He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.”

You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?

Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans.

“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?”

Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?”

“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now.

You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.”

His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe.

And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven.

“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.”

This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should.

“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place.

Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”

He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.”

And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.

You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet.

“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.”

The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note.

“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like♡ ”

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

#nct fanfiction #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wayv smut #haechan smut #johnny smut #jaemin smut #jeno smut #jisung smut #jaehyun smut #taeyong smut #yuta smut

958 notes · View notes

cl6udias · 2 months

Text

AINT NOBODY’S BUSINESS

summary : charlie bushnell and reader have a secret relationship that isnt so secret anymore…

warnings: fluff !! use of y/n bad writing (sorry yall im trying) social media au !! slut shaming, not proof read, this is really short !! if i missed any just let me know💗

therealbambi: beach day !! its nice have a relaxing day after so much stress😔

comments:

iamcharliebushnell: HEY!! wheres my photo creds ? i worked hard to get these amazing pics

therealbambi: photo creds: this weirdo

diorgoodjohn: you hung out with CHARLIE?!? instead of me?!? this is criminal

therealbambi: he forced me i swear

iamcharliebushnell: i did not!! you asked me to come with you

therealbambi: liar.

iamcharliebushnell: your the liar sorry babe.

user7: BABE?!??

leahsavajeffries: these photos are so cute!!

therealbambi: thank you leah!!

user10: charlie and y/ns banter is so cute STOP

user1: FOR REALLL ALSO HIM CALLING HER BABE?!?

diorgoodjohn: hung out with my fav girls last night ‼️‼️

comments:

therealbambi: last night was so much we need to hang out moreee

diorgoodjohn: WE DOOO !!

leahsavajeffries: the food last night was actually to die for🙏🙏

therealbambi: i told yall i know good restaurants 🤗

y/nupdates: y/ns been hanging out with the pjo cast alot maybe her in season 2?!?!

therealbambi: maybe who knows🤷🏽‍♀️

y/nupdates: STOP WHAT?!?

@iamcharliebushnell: why wasnt i invited to this little get together😞

diorgoodjohn: since when you a girl?

user4: NOT CHARLIE TRYING TO JOIN THEM LMAOO

user5: how much you wanna bet he wanted to hang out with y/n

*liked by dior and charlie*

user5: BOTH DIOR AND CHARLIE LIKED MY COMMENT IM TAKING THAT AS A YES

iamcharliebusnell: i definitely only wanted to hang out with bambi

user5: I FEEL SO LUCKY RN STOPP

user2: Y/N AND CHARLIE STANS RN ARE GOING CRAZY RN OVER THIS (its me im y/n and charlie stans)

walkerscobell: real

this comment was deleted

mtv: spoted singer and actress y/n making out with a mystery man outside her house in LA last night👀

comments:

y/nfan1: STOP WHOS TAKING AWAY MY WIFE FROM ME WTF

y/nupdates: realest thing ever said

user11: that kinda looks like charlie ngl🧐

charliebushnellupdates: STOP YOUR RIGHT AND THEY HAVE BEEN HANGING OUT ALOT

user1989: if it is i think ill actually die imagine the album she would write about him STOPP

haterngl: she doesn’t deserve Charlie shes gonna break up with him in a week and write a break up album about “how horrible he was”

user0: fr ngl shes kinda a slut i mean how many boyfriends has she had

user89: if your jealous just say that boo😘

pjofan13: STOPPP I MEAN Y/N HAS BEEN HINTING ABOUT A BOYFRIEND AND HER AND CHARLIE HAVE BEEN HANGING OUT ALOT RECENTLY OMG

therealbambi: y’all are fucking detectives or something i mean damn

y/nismywife: IS THIS HER CONFIRMING HER AND CHARLIE?

user07: Y/N WHAT?!? WDYM

user13: WHAT DOES SHE MEAN BY THIS ARE HER AND CHARLIE DATING WHAT😔

authors note: sorry if this is bad 😔 im new to writing and stuff !! anyways part 2 will be posted soon !! i just ran out of photo room bc i made this on my phone💗

#Spotify #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell smut #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #percy jackson #social media au

312 notes · View notes

bob-mirum · 9 months

Text

Okay, it was difficult, but I finally came up with and drew designs for the characters according to my Mafia AU :D

I promised to tell you about them, but it will be quite brief (because I don't know how to tell beautifully)

All these characters can be divided into three groups, two of which are two mafia gangs, and the third is ordinary citizens who stand for the law. Bosses from the original game will be humanizations 👀

You have already seen Peppino and Gustavo (btw I made a small redesign for Peppino, he will have metal claws instead of a pizza cutter).

Gustavo here plays the role of the one who created the usual gangster group together with Peppino, which later acquired some rules and became the mafia. Since Peppino's small restaurant some people already knew – they managed to promote their business to a large scale on the name of Peppino by building several pizzerias all over the city, from which they receive money (not only at the expense of visitors, but also at the expense of some illegal "things").

Gustavo is the head of the whole group, a calculating and intelligent man who does most of the business. In appearance, we can say that he is an ordinary kind man, but I don't advise you to peck at his kind appearance. Peppino is his right–hand man. Despite their friendship in the past, they now have a slightly strained relationship due to aggressiveness and Peppino's anger problems.

Now them

Pizzahead, one might say, is also an organizer of his own group, but here his job is to promote his casino, from which he receives money (obviously not in the most honest way). Once upon a time, his father (Pizzaface) was the head of a mafia gang, but Gustavo and Peppino managed to destroy them. He always wears a pizza mask and plays the image of a friendly cheerful guy, and rarely shows his real appearance. He hopes to crush Peppino and Gustavo's business with his competition, since he has his own personal scores with them.

Noise and Pepperman are his assistants. Noise is the one who promoted the casino with the help of advertising and attracted visitors to it, and also works there himself. Insanely gambling guy, incredibly greedy for money. Pepperman is one of Pizzahead's bodyguards, the closest to him. He's a bit of a gambler, still loves to draw, gets a lot of money with his paintings, doesn't draw infrequently.

And them

Noisette here is Noise's ex-girlfriend, who left him because of his excessive gambling. As in the original game, she owns her own small cafeteria, but, unfortunately, she has a similar fate as the original Peppino – a rather small attendance.

Vigilante is a local policeman who was initially on his own side. He and Noisette have been good friends since their youth, Vigilante is also the main visitor of Noisette cafe. He was the one who helped Noisette recover after the breakup, and has some romantic feelings for her.

Mr.Stick is a detective and Vigilante's assistant. He was also initially on his own side. The three watch both mafia gang together, Noisette and Stick help Vigilante gather some evidence against their criminal activities.

*spreads tiredly on the floor* I'm not sure if this all sounds good enough, I spent a lot of time to more or less correctly come up with everything, but I hope it was not all in vain x")

#pizza tower #pizza tower AU #mafia tower

495 notes · View notes

sojuyae · 10 months

Note

i need you to PLEASE expand more on the bsd zombie apocalypse au

more so if its yan 👀

bsd apocalypse au

bsd ada various / reader

notes: mild yandere themes, zombie apocalypse thingies, NOT PROOFREAD sad face and teary-eyed emoji

-> your 'first' encounter with dazai is nothing short of terrible. your dull knife was pressed on his bandage-clad neck when he managed to sneak up on you. it's so easy to mistake dazai as a zombie when he looks so dead. dirty bandages adorning his arms and neck, dried blood sticking to his skin and clothes (not like you were better yourself) — had it not been the absence of rotting flesh and flesh (or the loud whine he had let out when your knife barely pressed on his throat,) you could've killed him.

the man took your hand in his with fervor, his eyes twinkling with cheer that does not suit a man like him. meeting him was terrifying enough, but him to ask you to join his group? utterly horrifying.

he didn't even give you a choice to decline.

if he had to be subjected in multiple earsplitting berations by a certain ideal donning co-detective for you to be accepted, there's no need for you to know. actually, he would let you know. he'd use it against you everytime you don't do something for him — you're complaining about having to go on a supply run in his stead because he's lazy? next thing you know he's letting out a scoff and telling you about the 'traumatic' scoldings of kunikida he had to endure just for you to be welcomed in the team.

-> dazai's words of 'persuasion' — if you could even call it that, rarely works. and you learned it the hard way. you watched timidly on the sidelines as dazai dismisses kunikida's reprimands and barrage of insults with a playful laugh, shrugging off any comments of how bringing any more people in the agency will only mean more mouth to feed and how 'kenji's appetite' is already worth 3 mouths.

despite kunikida's prior disapproval of you being an addition to the group, kunikida instantly — a little too instantly, warms up to you. in fact, when you were begrudgingly let into the team, he was the first to hand you a new and fresh set of clothing.

kunikida’s kindness and compassion warms your heart and it is often that you find yourself in his presence when something is troubling you. always able to lend his ear and provide some insight while he assigns the agenda.

kunikida proves himself as a reliable friend, so much so that you don’t know question how almost every supply run and night watch is spent alongside him.

-> if there was someone you were in favor of in the entirety of the agency aside from kunikida’s amazing diligence, you would’ve been sure yosano takes the crown.

she’s a formidable woman — always so quick to treat any wounded teammates. its almost a miracle how every single one that comes out of the infirmary looks better than ever, not a single sight of bandages and scars that would’ve littered their skin.

she is as quick to hound you in her empty infirmary whenever she manages to strike a deal with kunikida something about not being too ruthless when treating him? you don't know. she bemoans off your ears about how you’re always assigned to do some menial tasks with the others when you could be staying with her instead.

whenever you’re alone with her, you feel more of those large bear plushies you'd see displayed in malls more than anything — you're meant to stay still as she treats your lap as some kind of chair, your shoulder as a bed, and your stomach as some kind of pillow. her butterfly hairpin digging in your skin painfully while she rests her head on your shoulder.

-> when you met ranpo who was sat upon his desk, you thought he was very familiar — not because he was the self proclaimed greatest detective of all time that you kept hearing about before, but because you had a feud with him about this one last sweet remaining in of the aisle during the apocalypse. you won with a cheap trick that he surprisingly fell for; pointing at the air with a, 'look, there's more sweets!' and making a break for it.

by the looks of it, he didn't seem to forget about the incident, and it doesn't seem that he'll be forgiving you anytime soon too, with how sharp his glare is from across the room.

dealing with ranpo is tough. sending you in supply runs like the recent run wasn't just a day ago because he apparently ran out of sweets (then what are those in his desks????) always ordering you to bring him this and that as if he couldn't reach it with a stretch of an arm, even going as far as making you feed him because his hands were busy (they're literally just behind his head.) and skillfully ignoring the looks everyone in the agency gives him.

really, you should've let him have that sweet.

-> whenever you enter a room, your gaze automatically meets atsushi's. he would almost immediately stiffen under your stare and as if he was caught, would continue on his task without much of a word. the same routine would repeat over and over, you step inside a room, both of your eyes lock together, he resumes in what he's doing, looks back to see if you're staring, then he's back on wiping the same spot on window again and again.

your brain came up with the explanation that maybe, atsushi doesn't like your new addition to the agency, that he hates you. rations are limited and you're enough of a burden.

so when you're paired up with him to look for supplies (kunikida was bedridden, and you swear you can hear him weakly croaking about how dazai should go in your stead.) you're eager to prove to atsushi that you're not a burden, that you can help the agency.

it doesn't end well. if anything, you became only more of a burden — you didn't think that there would be a zombie creeping up from behind you. atsushi manages to stop it from going near you with his trusty ability, his claws ripping the undead to shreds; he didn't even stop until you forcibly pulled him from the mush of undead flesh.

an apology was ready on your tongue until he tackles you in a tight hug, his face buried on your neck, muttering words of how you're safe now; you would've been glad that your misunderstanding of him hating you is cleared up — you would've been glad. had it not been the claws that are still drawn and wrapped around your back, the mauled and unrecognizable zombie who's still spasming on the dirty floors, the smell of rotten flesh hanging in the air, and the violence he displayed in front of you.

498 notes · View notes

nunalastor · 25 days

Note

With this whole "Serial Roommates" AU and Detective Guy LeBlouff going on, I can't help but have a nagging thought.

As far as we know, both from the official comic and the series, Alastor is someone who definitely kills those who he believes deserve it, mainly those who abuse their power over others. If that's what he did in life, it makes sense that his goals in hell would be Overlords.

And, despite wanting to be seen as a sadistic and narcissistic psychopath, there is no denying that Alastor is quite fair in using his power. He doesn't kill Sir Pentius because he is insignificant, but he kills the gangsters who were looking for Mimzy. In the comic he didn't kill the butcher who was planning to attack him, but he didn't even hesitate when the butcher attacked Sheep Girl. It makes me think that he also has standards regarding the Overlords he killed. As the main example we have Husk, whom he did not kill, but now has at his service. Husk was an Overlord, it seems that his area was casinos, betting and games of chance. It wouldn't be strange if they revealed that Husk as Overlord was not exactly abusive towards the souls he possessed, but if he used them as a bargaining chip, instead of betting money or property, he bet souls since he did not give them importance, which led him to lose power and eventually give his soul to Alastor.

What I mean is that Alastor, in fact, has standards, and that leads him to be polite with other Overlords like Rosie or Zestial. However, even if he is friends with others, he never lets his guard down. He can't trust anyone in hell, keeping his smile and his defenses up all the time is very necessary where he are. His demonic form considers itself a prey, he has an aversion to something that others use as a distraction or to harm others (sex). Any weakness will be used against him, whether for power or simply wanting to do harm, as Husk demonstrated when he simply brought up Alastor's deal just to touch a nerve. If Alastor can't trust someone he owns, then he can't trust anyone anymore.

Lucifer and Charlie are more powerful than him, and Alastor knows it, but he also knows that he could trust Charlie. Vaggie was able to lie to his girlfriend, but he can't exactly blame her, being constantly on the defensive is something he can respect. Deep down he knows that Angel has no bad intentions, but he can't trust that he won't miss important information near Valentino or one of Vox's devices. Husk is only loyal to him because he has his soul, he can't trust him not to attack him if he frees him. Niffty is...a special case. Mimzy only looks for him when she wants something. Rosie is a special situation. He is wary of Zestial. Vox was his friend and that changed, and they were probably both to blame.

And if we think about the comic, it seems like all Alastor wants sometimes is to have a normal day. It is obvious that he enjoys the fear he provokes, but it would be nice if the cowards ran away after he had completed the basic etiquette he was raised with.

Which brings us back to the detective, a normal guy with no real power unlike Alastor, someone who genuinely has no bad intentions and just wants to spend time with an good old friend reminiscing about the good old days. While Alastor prefers to maintain an "untouchable" facade with everyone in Hell, he doesn't need to do that with Guy, or literally any other character who meets those characteristics (Niffty). There are people with whom he can feel normal, and let his guard down, at least a little.

For the members of "Dark Forced Family" this would provoke an attack of excessive jealousy. But for "Forced Family"? That would be the key, finding out what makes Alastor feel comfortable enough to let his guard down, giving him space to feel comfortable, and time to learn to trust that no one around him wants his head or his power or will use information they obtain from him against him.

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #serial roommates #headcanon #meta #sort of

90 notes · View notes

lepetitpiastri · 1 year

Text

soft launch ~ cl16

making my debut on f1blr with a fluffy social media au w baby boy charles,, ive been inspired lately by reading everyones aus and i really wanted to have a crack at it! i hope you guys like it 🥹💕

• <3 •

yourbestfriend happy for you both!! 💖

ynismother omg shes taken?!? 😭

sharl.lechair wait a minute,, didnt charles also post a happy anniversary post today? 🤔🤔

ynfanboy highway looking mad comfy tonight

pierregasly happy anniversary you two 😘

joris__trouche photo cred? 🤨

captaincl charles has been in a relationship this whole time?!? and weve only just found out?!??

sharl.lechair guyssss yourusername posted an anniversary thing on the same day,,,

landoslane youre reaching girl 🤨

sharl.lechair im just sayinggg 🤷‍♀️

lepetitpierre let him cook!

yourbestfriend as he should!! 😤

sharl.lechair THAT’S CHARLES’ WATCH !!!

lepetitpierre u really are onto smth here 👀

ynfanboy im glad she is happy with him, whoever he is 😪

sharl.lechair do you have time to talk about our lord and saviour, charles leclerc?

carlossainz55 is this where you guys went during my shoot?? unbelievable

sharl.lechair you know who else was in madrid recently?? THIS GUY ^^

landoslane ok wait, im listening now 😮

joris__trouche very 🥰

joris__trouche agreed 😂

sharl.lechair UM?!? THIS CONNECTS THE DOTS

lepetitpierre hey sharl.lechair pls confirm this is charles’ hair?

sharl.lechair i can 99.9% confirm this is he

lewishamilton what was she reading?

charles_leclerc she said it was L'Âme et la Vie by Carl Gustav Jung

charles_leclerc she said she’ll lend it to you in exchange for a day with roscoe

lewishamilton deal, were coming over

sharl.lechair she posted that book on her story,,, theyre not even trying to be discreet anymore 🥹

captaincl youre too powerful for them

pierregasly about time 😭

carlossainz55 tell me about it 😭😭

joris__trouche photo cred pass only bc this is cute

yourusername special s/o to the detective in our comments for the past few months ❤️

sharl.lechair oh thank god i actually wasnt delusional this whole time

charles_leclerc i love you ❤️

yourbestfriend about time x2

liked by pierregasly

landoslane hey sharl.lechair how does it feel, to have been right all along?

sharl.lechair i feel free. my work here is done.

#f1 #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #social media au #instagram au #charles leclerc x you #reader insert #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x y/n

742 notes · View notes

livlaughloveluke · 6 months

Text

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞- 𝐞.𝐥

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you fall in love with a murderer, and have to choose between living a life with out him, or dying

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: HEAVY angst, no happy ending (sorry), ghostface au, little cursing, scream 6 spoilers ig, death :(

𝐚/𝐧: my first writing!! lmk what y’all think 👀 theme heavily inspired by @auras-moonstone, which go check her blog out if you haven't already! also story very similar to author on wattpad, forgot their name though so if you know, make sure to comment!

your feet ached from running, and with every step you took, it felt like your muscles were snapping into itty-bitty pieces. however, you had to keep running, for yourself, and for your friends.

you were currently being chased by two ghostfaces, who had just brutally murdered chad. it was painful to watch, since you had been attached at the hip since kindergarten, and had grown up together.

he was always there for you, and was a great listener. he listened to you when you needed to vent about your shitty day, or when you were rambling on about how cute and thoughtful ethan was.

you met ethan at the beginning of the semester, and instantly clicked. you constantly hung out, and the group liked to joke about your crushes on one another. you just thought it was playful teasing, although you had definitely fallen for ethan, hard.

unbeknownst to you, he had felt the same. originally, you and him were never supposed to happen. the plan was for him to join the group through chad, and continue the family business from there. although, once he heard your angelic laugh and experienced your lovable personality, he knew the whole plan was fucked.

however, none of that matters now, as you stand in front of detective bailey. he had just revealed himself as one of the heartless killers, and the other murders still had their masks on, and stood next to him proudly.

then, he took off his disguise.

it was ethan. your ethan. the one who you baked cookies with only a few nights ago, was a serial killer, and wanted your blood.

you couldn’t focus on the others words, all you could do was stare at ethan. he however, was to much of a coward to even glance your direction. he couldn’t bear the thought of your eyes being stained with sadness and betrayal.

you were quickly brought back to reality as all hell broke loose. quinn chased after the sisters, bailey after kirby, and ethan after you.

you pushed your sore and aching legs down a dim hallway, only to find a dead end. it was over for you. no where to run, you turned around to look at ethan, and backed into the cold, concrete wall.

“so, this is it? you’re just going to kill me now, after everything we’ve been through?” you ask with an aggravated tone, your words still lingering in ethans ears, much after they were said.

“i- i dont want to do this to you, y/n. but i have to. its for richie, for the family.” he grips the knife, and slowly brings it up to your throat. you tense up, and squeeze your eyes shut.

this is how you were going to die, bleeding out at the hands of the boy you loved most. it felt unreal, although you were starting to except your fate. you internally jumped at the feeling of the tip of the knife to your throat, and now you were waiting for him to end your life with one stroke.

you kept waiting, for what felt like an eternity, but nothing ever came. you decided to open your eyes out of curiosity. he was standing still, looking down at the ground, deep in thought.

“do it. please, don’t drag my death on. the least you can do is make it quick. kill me, ethan.” you say, the tremble in your voice very prominent. the sound of your whispers catches him off guard, and he looks up from the floor to make eye contact with you.

ethan broke upon hearing your pleads. what was he doing? he loved you, more than he loved his father or sister. you made him feel special, in a way no other family member could.

“I can’t do it.” he says, dropping the knife and beginning to sob into his hands. you look at him, both confused and distraught, until your attention is brought elsewhere. sam was covered in blood behind him, a knife in hand. she brought a finger up to her lips, signaling you to be quiet so she could attack him.

you didn’t want him to die, but you knew he had to. you quickly embraced him, arms around his neck, standing on your tallest tiptoes, due to his abnormally large height.

you dig you head into his neck, between your arm, and began to cry with him.

“you dont know how bad i want this to be a dream.” you managed to choke out, in between sobs. “i wish i could wake up in your arms, and everything could go back to normal.” you say, still hugging him, for this would be the last time.

you pick your head up to look at sam, signaling to her that it was time. you bury your head back into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes, waiting. you then hear the knife plunge into his skin, and you feel the vibrations of his muffled shrieks along your skin.

you decide to continue talking, trying to help him through the pain, while sam retracts the weapon from his back and goes to stab him again.

“i wish i could wake up from this nightmare, and we could go back to studying econ on thursdays, and getting milkshakes at our favorite diner while we talk and laugh for hours.” you exclaim with a depressing and heartfelt tone.

“remember when you were walking me back to my apartment late one night, and we saw a stray cat? and you sat there for the next 10 minutes, feeding it scraps out of the palm of your hand?” you recite to him, and he nods slowly, while in pain.

“thats the ethan i fell in love with. he would never do anything like this, and he was the most selfless guy i knew. he would spend hours researching the perfect flower to get, and would make sure to text me every morning and night to check on me.” you share, and start to feel his body go limp, and all color he once had, slowly drained from his soul.

“i love you, so much y/n. i wish things were different.” he stutters out, before going unconscious.

“me too.” you say, laying his body down on the ground. tears spilling from your eyes, and onto his lifeless cheek.

that was it. there was no more ethan and y/n. you would have to live a life without him. no more sleeping in his bed while you ran your fingers through his hair, no more sweet messages, no more song recommendations. apart of you had died that day, and it killed knowing that he would never come back.

#jack champion #ethan landry smut #ethan landry angst #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion x reader #liv’s writing !

120 notes · View notes

princessfbi · 5 months

Note

AU where Bobby is a senior detective and Buck is a new, fresh-on-the-job deputy who Bobby takes under his wing. A few months later, Bobby is assigned to lead the open case of an at-large serial killer, with Buck insisting on helping with the investigation 👀👀

Murder Mystery AU

Nonnie you need to know this sent me off in a spiral with the besties and then I got busy at work.

We're looking at the Grumpy 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 Sunshine partnership that everyone at the station seems to get a kick out of for whatever reason. But Buck is completely unfazed by Bobby's closed off demeanor. He thinks Bobby is so cool. They taught about him in the academy. Bobby is all but begging Athena to get the golden retriever rookie off his back but she thinks it would be good for both of them.

Buck's instincts are very good. Bobby doesn't get it at first. He's always believed in treating suspects like humans with common decency but Buck is talking about work out routines with a possible serial killer. Does he not get the severity of what's going on? It takes Bobby a second to realize that there aren't a lot of people Buck doesn't eventually win over and those suspects are eating out of the palm of his hand by the end.

The kid has a crush the size of Jupiter on Deputy Diaz and would he please for the love of god stop flirting with him on the radio. Seriously, Buck! We're working.

Bobby snaps when another victim shows up and they're no closer to finding the killer. It's hard to be caught up in his grief with literal sunshine walking around him and idolizing him and looking at him like he has all the answers when he doesn't!

But then Bobby finds Buck sleeping at his desk and he sends him home to get some real sleep in a real bed. They'll try again later. Would be a real shame Buck doesn't quite make it home though.

#evan buckley #bobby nash #eddie diaz #buddie #royal decree #writing talk #my fic writing #anon

58 notes · View notes

selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 4 days

Note

What you were saying with characters with the same voice actors got me thinking...

Dazai has the same English voice actor as gojo satoru from jjk. You know where I'm going with this 👀

Okay, now I have another Self-Aware! BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter crossover small idea.

What if... Reader's powers, during the Hunt, activated, and they accidentally summoned characters, who have the same voice actors, as BSD Cast.

So, they have summoned Gojou Satoru. And, because I think, it's funny, Detective Pikachu (from game, Kaiji Tang, Dazai's VA voiced him).

Just imagine, what would happen, when Gojou, Pikachu and Reader returned to real world.

Imagine Kunikida's headache from dealing with the trio. Dazai, Pikachu and Gojou immediately boned over.

31 notes · View notes

wolflyndraws · 3 months

Note

Killer George and detective Dream you say 👀👀👀

It’s actually serial killer gnf disguised as a criminologist who works with Dream (investigator) on a serial killer case that surprise! Gnf is the murderer but Dream or anyone in fact doesn’t know it yet

Gnf falls in love with Dream to an obsessive amount and Dream falls obsessively in “love” (parasocially haha) with his case (I have themes when I make aus and this one is obsession and toxicity would love to talk more about this if you guys are interested)

It’s more darker of an au of mine but I really like the premise

(and again it’s barely Dnf even compared to my other aus which is more Dnf like than this one LMAO I’m just using Dnf as a vessel for storytelling here)

#wolflyn dnf rambles #wolflyn killer detective au

47 notes · View notes

batbabydamian · 8 months

Text

Batman and Robin (2023) #1 is out!! 🦇💕

Spoilers and lots of rambling below

Loved hopping in mid-mission with Bruce and Damian banter - the first issues of Damian's B&R 2009 and 2011 runs have Batman and Robin’s relationship on a rocky start, so it’s a refreshing change!

Bruce rhyming with the pause like he’s really thinking about it LOL he's having fun!!

"You roll your eyes just like your mother" SO CUUTE!! a nice way of relating Damian to Talia in a habit haha (would also be neat if Damian had some of his mom's physical features heehee...haha...) Also "it's just us here for a bit." Would anyone else from the batfam be staying there in the future? 🤔

OKAY really want to delve into Damian cutting Bruce off here, since we're mostly in Bruce's POV atm.

Bruce saying that he's happy Damian chose to live with him seems to impose the idea Damian chose Bruce over Talia. From how Bruce thought Talia should "never claim Damian" i don't think that's something Damian wants to hear, especially after Damian already chose not to be on either of his parent's side!!

Batman VS Robin (2022) #4

In the end of his Robin book, Damian says he's still figuring out who he is, so i'm wondering if he's conflicted about losing that independence of being able to carve a path of his own now that he's with Bruce again. Either way, Damian's (VERY CUTE!!) self insert AU story gives us a glimpse of his concerns about his parents and not getting to be a teenager 🥺

ANYWAY. OBSESSED WITH THIS!! HIS COMIC THUMBNAILS!! THE RANDOM ANIME EYES IN THE CORNER!! WELCOME BACK ARTIST DAMIAN 😭

EXPRESSING HIMSELF THROUGH DRAWING FROM GORE/HORROR TO FAMILY/OBSERVATIONS TO EXPERIMENTING WITH MANGA/COMICS!! ALL SO VALID AND WONDERFUL 😭

Damian quoting Alfred and probably cooking something he used to make for him?? i'm crying

Detective Comics (2016) Annual #4

We've really gone from Damian just leaving a reminder for Bruce to restock the fridge to Damian cooking breakfast for the both of them 🥺

THIS IS MY FAV PANEL IN THIS ENTIRE ISSUE LOL fav just eating well, cheeks full of food, so cute!! and Damian sounds like he's referring to when Bruce enrolled him to the school in Metropolis lol Though Bruce's reason was also to benefit Damian, he's better communicating that this time!

Super Sons (2017) #10

LOVE DAMIAN'S ROBIN MOBILE!! glad he's moved on from the batmobile and just got his own - it's very much the opposite too in how it's bright, open, and bulky where the batmobile's dark and sleek!

The last part of the issue showcases Di Meo's action! i was pretty worried about it, because when i first saw his interiors for DC VS Vampires (2021) i barely understood what was happening im so sorry sir 😭 Honestly, it was still jarring but much better! HUGE shoutout to their Letterer Steve Wands, because the SFX and dialogue placement improved the flow a lot!

Final thoughts: GORGEOUS ART, FUN WRITING, I LOVE DAMIAN!! i'm analyzing way too much but i'm just so happy to have an ongoing with Damian again (with a writer that actually! likes him!) 😭 i also think Williamson's getting a better grasp on Damian's voice in this book compared to Robin, since Damian sounded more casual than normal there lol

My hopes are we get those fun stylized panels of Damian's art/comics where we get insight on his headspace similar to the shoujo panels from Robin!! Reunion of Damian and his pets!! And it's still early, but still holding out for Williamson to keep to his word on this!! 👀

#rambling #jfc i didnt expect this to get so long i really thought i was just gonna gush over how adorable Damian is in this issue LOL

60 notes · View notes

00lari00 · 3 months

Text

A small announcement

For people who are curious about my au, I promise I will post more comics and chapters. But with the routine at my school this is very difficult, so I will most likely try to do them on the weekend!

Keep your eyes open! Because in this story you are the detective to find out who the clan traitor is! 👀

Meanwhile during the week I try to post funny little comics about Pollo and sometimes about the Toppat leaders XD

Meanwhile, here your meal! XD

#thsc #henry stickmin collection #henry stickmim collection #henry stickman fanart #toppat clan #only1toppat!au #the henry stickmin collection #Thsc terrence suave #thsc reginald copperbottom #thsc billy g #thsc sir wilford iv

37 notes · View notes

bonesandthebees · 3 months

Note

If u wanna talk more about the tntduo detective au I am ALL ears 👀👀👀 but also totally understand if u wanna keep it a secret for now hehehe

honestly I have no idea where I'm going with it so I'll throw it to the wind and let you guys chew on it while I let it simmer lol

so basically I started watching true detective: night country the other night with my mom and I immediately got inspired (I have not seen the first season of true detective although I really want to watch it now and hopefully will soon). also, I've always had a fascination with the polar nights phenomena. I've gone on wikipedia binges before reading about Utquiagvik (the Alaskan town I'm fairly sure the town in true detective s4 is based off of) which experiences polar night for roughly two months or so, and I've also gotten a few videos in my Youtube recommended from a youtuber who lives in Svalbard which experiences polar night for nearly three months. so suffice to say the concept of a several month long night has intrigued me for a while, and finding a show literally set during that multi-month nighttime immediately piqued my interest.

and when I watch really fun things I usually get the urge to write something in the same genre. originally I thought about a crimeboys detective duo fic, but then I was like wait has anyone done tntduo as detective partners? because I know there's crimeboys detective fics out there but I don't know if I've seen many of them for tntduo. and I realized that would just be a very fun dynamic for the two of them.

so grizzled small town detective partners tntduo who bicker like an old married couple, seem to have a lot of shit in their past between them, work incredibly well together and bounce off of each other perfectly during investigations, and also have the kind of tension where no one else in the room with them can tell if they want to punch each other or make out just felt like the perfect vibe to dig into. all set against the backdrop of a frigid arctic circle town that's in the midst of a 2 month long night. and then someone gets murdered.

so this post doesn't get too long I'll talk more about the specifics of the au under the cut

so tbh this idea while it is tntduo /r, it wouldn't be that focused on that and more focused on the murder investigation going on. besides our two overly tired small town detectives that definitely aren't repressing any feelings towards each other, we have several other characters going about their lives as well! of course tommy is there. he's a junior officer who only joined the police force a year before the start of the story (also, yes I'm very acab when it comes to real life but I just wanna write one of those stereotypical murder investigation stories man).

anyway, tommy is only 20 and his dad, phil, was part of the force for most of tommy's life. once he turned 18 though phil quit because he'd always hated the institution of police (and government in general) (although like wilbur he was a detective) but wanted to have a stable job to keep his kid supported. phil was... not thrilled in tommy's career choice, but who is he to protest?

phil mentored wilbur during his early years in the force, and in turn wilbur mentors tommy. he's trying to teach him how to think like an investigator, and will often ask him questions to get his brain turning pieces of evidence over and try to get him to look at situations in different ways.

since quitting and getting that sweet sweet government retirement money, phil pretty much spends all his time at his bestie techno's place. techno is the town hermit who lives on the outskirts. he also breeds sled dogs (not formally he just has a lot of dogs since people need them in that kind of weather) and usually has 10 huskies at a time running around his cabin. techno might also be a retired eco-terrorist but wilbur knows not to ask too many questions about that and quackity is scared of techno so he's definitely not gonna bring it up.

niki is a phd student from germany working at the nearby arctic research station for her dissertation. she focuses a lot of her studies on climate change and all that. she and wilbur are best friends and has heard way too many drunken ramblings about quackity.

jack manifold is one of tommy's best friends and works at the oil fields that employ most of the town. he's trying to get placed onto a proper oil rig out in the ocean at some point since those jobs pay really well. he's friends with niki too, although his job and her research certainly cause a bit of contention between them.

tubbo is another best friend of tommy's. he's born and raised in the arctic town but he went off to a prestigious uni down south to get a nuclear engineering degree so he's not really around for the most part

sam oversees and manages all the oil pumps and makes sure things are running smoothly. and in turn, schlatt owns the oil fields. he and quackity have, uh, a history.

and lastly, ranboo is an intern at the research station that niki is doing her dissertation work at. they're also close friends with tommy, although wilbur and quackity both have only met them a few times. the whole story kicks off when they go missing one day, only to be found dead outside in the frigid temperatures within a few hours. that's when the mystery kicks off against the backdrop of a nearly three month long night :)

anyway I do have the overarching mystery figured out, but it's the actual specific plotting bit i'm struggling with. I really don't want to write the entire investigation but also I don't wanna just write a single scene bc theres so much going on in this universe I wanna show arghhhh. and also I love slowburn and I think the really weird tense dynamic tntduo have in this would be so intriguing with that layered on top of it. just arghhhh motivation and time.

hope you enjoyed learning about my brainrot over the past few days lol I already made a playlist for this fic even though I don't think I'm gonna write it it's so joever for me

#ask #icyfox17 #au ramblings

25 notes · View notes

nunalastor · 30 days

Note

Hey I saw your comment about serial killer Alastor human au

So what if he did have a roommate who had no clue that Alastor was killing and chopping bodies at his spare time.

Bonus the roommate is also a detective/cop and is investigating the murders. Kind of like Dexter has Debra his sister who’s a detective and Walt has Hank who’s DEA

👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #nunalastor asks #lucifer #and they were roommates serial killer edition #(it was valentino and he was too blind to see it)#(i know they died at separate time periods)#dexter #serial roommates

67 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

arekusa-m

Bloo.

kupkobim-blog

BIM

project100days

Project 100: 100 Days of Challenging White Supremacy

nebbbula2

welcome to my cringe palace

pointperson8

The Journey of Glerup 783