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blkkizzat · 7 months

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ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟐 (part 1)

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV/SA mentions (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, LOTS of teasing/foreplay, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 9.9 of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: I had no idea so many people would be this hyped for Part 2. No really, I'm shocked! But It gets real here peoples! Lots of smut and dark shit below so please read the content warnings! I don't want no crying in the mentions and DMs cause y'all should know how out of pocket I am by now and I took it there lmfao.

If you riding with me still Thank You for putting up with my OCD bullshit and for all the support, comments and reblogs on Part 1! y'all real asf & ilysm

Enjoy!

Previously:

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.”

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag.

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off.

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

☠

Sigh.

For the first time ever in your life you are miserable at a party.

To say you had been excited leading up to today would have been an understatement. The initiation party after rush was one of the biggest events in the greek system and you had led the charge this year in planning the party.

Nevertheless, any cheerful enthusiasm you held had been trampled on by the disaster that had taken place earlier in the day with Choso.

If getting out of going wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth you would have faked being sick. It’s not like you hadn’t already stressed yourself into a headache.

Yet here you were suffering through, completely sober. Not even being able to bring yourself to drink away your problems.

How could you even pretend to enjoy yourself when your forced smile cracked as soon as the mental image of Choso’s icy expression looped through your mind?

Your chest got a little tighter each time you remembered and it frazzled your nerves.

Just about everyone and everything annoyed you right now.

Even the party: Hunter vs Hunted, one of your favorites, was soured.

Typically the theme entailed girls dressed up as various exotic animals or woodland creatures and the boys dressed as safari game hunters or woodsmen. But this time around, no thanks to singular frat boy hivemind, they all got the bright idea to collectively cosplay as Ghostface.

Taking a new meaning on Hunter.

They couldn’t carry knives on campus of course so they all carried around metal bats which they probably stole from the baseball team.

Sure, let’s all dress up as the masked serial killer while he is still on the loose.

You rolled your eyes.

The pilfered bats were a hazard waiting to happen too. You could only be thankful that the party was at Dean’s frat and not your own sorority so him and the rest of those idiots could fuck their own shit up once they inevitably got way too hammered and started swinging them around.

You mostly just wished they hadn’t changed the plan without telling you.

Then at least you could have dressed up in line with the horror theme and wouldn’t have had to wear this sexy Bambi costume which although skimpy, the fur parts made it way too hot to be wearing in a crowded party indoors.

On edge and not being able to leave, you did the next best thing and sequestered yourself in the kitchen pantry.

It was spacious and a lot cooler than the rest of the house.

You made yourself look busy in there by restocking snacks and making sure there was an ample supply of red cups ready to go around for the keg.

When someone did notice you tucked away, you gave the best fake smile you could muster and made-up an excuse not to join in on whatever drinking game they were playing promising you would ‘catch up in a minute.’

Fortunately for you, most of your friends and sorority sisters were a bit too faded by this point to notice you missing and never joining in.

Maybe a bit longer and you could slip out unnoticed?

That was your plan at least until you felt Dean throw an arm over you from behind.

“There you are babe!”

Urgh.

The overwhelming ick and nausea you felt from him touching you rivaled your worst hangover.

You immediately shrug him off.

“Come on babe don’t be like that. Get a freshman to take over. We're gonna play rage cage.”

You threw Dean a wary look.

You try to tell him you aren’t in the mood but of course your selfish dickhead of a boyfriend ignores you.

Dean then proceeds to pull your arm and lead you out of the pantry through the kitchen.

On a different day you probably would have just given in, easier to go along with the flow than cause an issue. Today however was different and the last thing in the world you wanted to do was play fucking rage cage with a bunch of horny frat boys who were just trying to get girls drunk enough to fuck.

“Goddamnit, Dean I said no!”

Your tolerance had boiled past its limits.

You forcibly snatch your hand back, knocking some empty bottles over on the counter in the process which come crashing down to the floor shattering into pieces.

Your words and movements dripped with so much aggression you surprised yourself, Dean and the people around you who had turned to see what the commotion was.

”No? No? You’re really telling me no Y/N? After you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ bitch all day since I crashed your make out session with that freak.”

Immediately self-conscious, your eyes darted around the crowd of people that had now turned their full attention toward you.

You hated confrontation and never wanted to be that couple fighting at a party.

Ducking down quickly, you begin to pick up the shattered pieces of bottled glass on the floor.

The pounding of your headache against your temples grew feverishly and the harsh fluorescent kitchen lights started to make you feel faint, you hoped Dean would just let this go if you backed down.

“Look, we’ll talk about that later, ok? Just please don’t be an asshole Dean, I really don’t feel good right now.”

You pleaded with him, quietly trying to quell the situation.

But true to his infamous asshole nature, Dean wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted to humiliate you as he felt you humiliated him in front of his friends earlier with that nobody loser.

”Now, I’m the asshole?” Dean questioned to his frat brothers smugly.

“Hey, maybe I am for having a girlfriend like Y/N, who would slut herself out for a grade in front of the entire quad!”

Dean had all but yelled that last part out. Your drunken clown of a boyfriend didn’t care if he caused a scene at your expense.

Now you had the full attention of everyone in the kitchen.

You took a shaky breath as you stood up and felt the crunch of broken glass beneath your heels.

An unfamiliar sensation of rage rises within you.

It really wasn’t in your nature to be angry even when you were upset, you mostly just cried but now you were pissed to say the least.

He has some fucking nerve.

Especially when you knew no one starting on the football team studied at all and were all automatically passed through whatever easy bullshit major they signed up for.

“Dean–”

You start yet pause for a moment, trying to keep your cool.

“–you know how hard I study.”

Twisting the proverbial knife in your back to wind you up further Dean continued.

“Yeah, Y/N That's what’s so pathetic about it. You get Bs. That pussy ain’t even good enough for an A. I would know.”

Collective gasps, snickers and whispers arose from around the kitchen. Word had spread of your fighting as more people gathered in the doorway.

Typically this is where you would have run off crying. However, you were exhausted mentally and emotionally. You had already cried for a good hour today while getting ready.

The only emotions you had readily available to tap into was the hidden well of resentment and ire you held for Dean.

“And how would you even know what good pussy is Dean? You can’t last longer than two pumps, is it not all the same for you?”

You snapped back.

Your fists had formed into a tight ball.

You are so enraged you can’t even feel the prick from the broken glass bottle still in your hand puncturing your skin.

How long has it been since you stood up for yourself?

You can’t remember the last time you even fought with anyone like this but it felt good seeing the smug look on his face fall as his friends around him jeered and laughed.

“I know how to settle this Y/N.”

Dean mused as he yanked one of your sorority sisters nearby toward you.

“How ‘bout we ask Aaliyah then, eh? She got more than 2 pumps last weekend after you left the party to go chase after Ghostface–”

Your head snaps to your AKA sister in question, Aaliyah, who looked like she saw a cursed spirit as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes shamefully hit the floor before they met your gaze.

She couldn’t even look at you which only further solidified Dean’s accusations.

So Dean himself confirmed he’d been cheating on you? Cool.

With your own Sorority sister, who you considered one of your besties since you both rushed together?

Even better.

Blood slowly trickled out of your hand to drip on the floor from how rigidly you held onto the glass but the small red puddle went unnoticed as your whole vision was already saturated with the color red when you looked at Dean who hadn’t even finished his disrespectful tirade.

“–Although on second thought, it was probably an excuse for you to go suck off that loser freak TA of yours right?”

More heckles erupted from the crowd around you and you don’t think you have ever hated someone so much in your life as you hated Dean right at this moment.

Sure you were upset with Aaliyah but your fury was purely focused on Dean.

He had some nerve to start so much shit earlier over an almost-kiss when he was fucking your good friend behind your back.

“And how fucking out of her mind was she then, huh Dean? Would she even remember? You pathetic piece of shit...”

You get directly in his face.

“...that limp dick of yours fumbles orgasms like you fumble passes. That’s why we lost the big game last week. And guess what? That's also why we’re now OVER!”

Dean’s bulky build towers over you but he might as well have been 3 feet tall to you as the razor edge of your words eviscerate him.

“So who’s the fucking loser now Dean?”

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence by the venom dripping from someone they had never even heard raise their voice before.

You don't notice anyone else's reactions though as suddenly you became hyperaware of the large fractured piece of bottled glass cutting into you.

Your eyes flickered back to Dean as your hand twitches.

For a fleeting moment you felt an inkling urge to drive the glass in your hand directly into Dean’s smug ass face.

Yet whatever dark fury burned in you was instantly snuffed out as you felt a flood of cold bitter beer splash down on you from Dean’s red solo cup.

”Why don’t you cool off for a bit dear,” Dean cooed at you, mocking you and your now ruined Bambi costume as he and the frat boys around you started to roar with laughter.

That was it.

You were done.

Dean had succeeded in humiliating you.

Any contention or further will to fight within you had dissipated the moment you were doused in beer.

The glass in your hand drops onto the ground as a dull ache radiates from your wound that continues to seep blood onto the floor.

“I hope you realize this is the last time an AKA will grace this sorry ass frat for a party. I’ll see to that. Enjoy the rest of your night fellas!”

The icy air of your words contrasted with the perfect pageant smile you gave them and it unsettled those around you especially as they all notice the blood gushing from your hand.

The crowd immediately parts as you leave. No one dares utter a word to you as you exit the party through the side kitchen door.

You can feel your phone go off as you get a flurry of group texts and missed facetimes. Most of your sisters weren’t even in the kitchen to witness the scene.

You respond to the group chat to tell them just to stay and enjoy the party and turn your phone on ‘do not disturb.’

You just wanted to be alone.

You’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

☠

Choso wore a twisted grin hidden under his Ghostface mask.

The hunter vs hunted party meant a perfect time for him to hunt.

Leaning against a building Choso was shrouded in the dark cover of shadows far removed from campus lights.

Old habits, he mused. There was really no need for him to hide at all tonight.

He could actually walk around openly as Ghostface now without causing alarm seeing as how most of those fraternity morons were dressed up like him tonight.

This made things even easier.

Choso scanned the area for his next prey.

Someone, anyone alone would do.

Choso had been itching to spill blood since he had the enticing inclination to slash your boyfriend’s throat earlier.

Currently he wanted nothing more than to see a violent geyser of blood spurt from his next victim. Having it be a shithead frat guy would only sweeten the kill so he had stalked close to frat row for his latest victim.

There.

Seeing movement in the distance, a lone figure, Choso cautiously advances trailing in the shadows towards them until they come into focus under the street lights.

He nearly does a double take when he recognizes it's you.

Shouldn’t Miss-Perfect-Social-Butterfly be having the time of her life right now with her cretins being crowned queen of the frats or something?

Choso thought bitterly.

That is, until he got a good look at you.

You were wet and shivering as you failed to sniff back the tears pouring down your face.

Despite his desire to stay angry with you, his jaw involuntarily clenches as he had never seen you this upset before.

Something had happened.

Choso confused look turns deadly as vision travels down to see you nursing the hand you cradled to your chest. He recognizes blood running down your forearm to stain your already soiled costume.

A territorial urge swelled within him, not knowing you had inflicted your own injury.

You were his prey.

It was unforgivable for someone else to spill what was his to enjoy.

Choso immediately concluded the cause of it was Dean.

Boyfriend or not he would gladly gut that motherfucker at the drop of a dime.

He hadn’t forgotten how roughly he had dragged you off earlier.

And more importantly how you had let that asswipe drag you off. That honestly had fired his temper more than anything.

A storm of conflicting feelings, Choso yearns to see more of your blood splattered on the ground as much as he secretly covets to have you writhing underneath him.

Should he approach you?

No. Not yet.

Although, he would never have a more perfect chance than now to kill you if he was ever actually going to go through with it.

Securing his knife on the inside of his robe, Choso silently propels himself after you.

Never falling too far behind, he vigilantly watches you from a distance as both your protector and predator.

☠

A warm shower was just what you needed but you were pissed you had to wash your hair 3 times to get the smell of Milwaukee's out, which proved insanely hard to do with one functioning hand.

You could have killed Dean.

No actually though, as you remembered the dark seething compulsion you felt.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you earlier.

Pushing those thoughts to the side though you focused on the gash in your hand, it was pretty gnarly.

You were just thankful the first aid kid in your sorority house had enough gauze and tape until you could get to the campus nurse tomorrow.

You probably needed stitches as any sudden movements had the fragile skin of your palm bleeding again.

Returning to your room in a comfy pink cotton bra and thong you throw your towel over a chair.

You start to reach for your fluffy robe when you see Choso’s black track jacket on your desk. It still had the small coffee stains on it from earlier but you opted to slip into it anyway.

Truthfully, you lied to him.

You hadn’t just been carrying it around waiting to give it back to him.

You had worn it more times this past week than you would willingly admit to anyone.

You even took it on purpose instead of your actual jacket this morning not actually thinking you would run into Choso but when you had seen him, you knew you wanted him to see you in it.

With a sigh of frustration, you dove face first into the pillows of your bed as you curled into his jacket.

It was your only comfort at the moment.

Your mind wanders and you can’t help but think of how better a boyfriend Choso would have been to you.

Dean would never let you wear his jackets, no matter how cold you were. He said you were too air-headed and would ruin or lose it.

Not that he wasn’t right, you definitely were accident prone.

But that's why it had meant so much to you when Choso, not even your boyfriend, had given you his own without a second thought.

You only hoped he didn’t hate you now.

Not that you could blame him if he did.

Even you hated you a bit for even being with a jerk like Dean in the first place no matter how convenient you thought it had been for you.

How could you even face Choso in class next week?

Despite your heart crumpling when you thought of Choso’s cold intimidating gaze being cast upon you again, you admittedly had never seen a look that intense before from anyone.

It was also impossible to forget the ravenous look in his eyes when he was so close to kissing you.

He looked as if he would devour you whole.

God, everything about him was so sexy.

His strong jaw set firm, his eyes dark pools that sucked you in even from memory, his lean muscular body.

You wish you had realized how bad you had been crushing on him sooner. Before everything got so fucked up.

You fidgeted as an ache developed between your legs.

Turning your head to the side you used your bandaged hand to gently push his jacket collar into your face.

It still smelled like him despite how many times you’ve worn it this week and despite the faint smell of old coffee from earlier.

Squirming on your bed, you tried in vain to keep your legs from sliding against each other creating more friction as your body became increasingly hotter.

A shameless whine escaped your lips as you huffed his woody masculine scent in and out.

Your legs rubbed together more eagerly.

Shit, you were so horny.

Still laid flat on your belly you lifted your hips up for access as a manicured finger pressed into your clit toying with yourself from the outside of your pink cotton thong.

Choso was so meticulous, so knowledgeable in everything he did you were sure he knew how to make you cum.

You were desperate for him as you remembered what it felt like when he caught you from falling last week.

How good would his sculpted chest feel pressed into you now?

Would he look at you with the same want that flared across his features when he had gotten a glimpse of your panties you had intentionally put on display for him?

You didn’t miss how it matched the look he gave you when he nearly kissed.

“Choso…”

You moaned out loud.

You could feel the wet spot your teasing was earning you spread over your thong as your cunt continued to drool over your fantasies of him.

Craving more you lifted your ass up higher while your fingers fumbled to slide under the flimsy fabric.

“A-ahhh s-shit Cho– F-fuck!”

You panted as you sunk two fingers into your cunt. You worked to diligently pump them in and out of you as you pressing your palm down firmly over your swollen clit.

Your face buried itself deeper in his jacket as you gasped and your warm breath pushed back against you as you imagined it was his own tickling your neck.

All your senses screamed with want to be consumed by him and you pined for the feeling of his cock stretching your wet cunt instead of your slim fingers that weren’t cut out for the job.

“F-fuck C-Choso.. Mmm, let me cum.”

You practically sobbed when you glided a third finger into your pussy, two wasn’t enough to quell the craze that had overtaken you.

Ironically and unbeknownst to you, Choso (who had hidden himself in your closet during your shower), was mere moments away from losing his own goddamn mind.

Wholly entranced, he listened to you wantonly call for him like a sweet siren song and watched utterly fixated on the way you fiercely finger fucked your pussy like it was his own cock.

All the while in his jacket sniffing the sweaty soiled material like some filthy fucking pervert.

Fuck!

When he had followed you back to the sorority house he had finally resolved to kill you, but now he was at a standstill as there was no plausible way this was actually happening in front of him.

The obscene ASMR of your cunt sloshing rang in his ears and your legs quivered obscenely with you approaching your orgasm.

Your desperate thrusts caused his oversized jacket to ride up to your hips revealing the way your ass bare ass jiggled when you drove your hips down and pushed your digits up deeper into your core that waited greedily to suck them in.

You chanted out Choso’s name with urgency straining your voice as you climaxed. The bed creaked from you now humping the mattress while riding out your high.

Shit you were fucking sexy.

Thought you'd just been toying with him for fun all this time...

Until now.

Choso’s grip on his knife tightened as adrenaline surged through his body.

He could feel the blood pumping through his dick.

He wanted to fuck you.

Badly.

Give you what you’ve both been needing all this time.

Choso fully bricked, suppressed a hiss through clenched teeth as he palmed the bulge in his pants but remained otherwise still.

He can’t imagine a positive reaction if he burst out of your closet as Ghostface nor could he just take off his mask and pop out of your closet as your TA like he was some fucking creeper.

This was pure agony.

You never failed to find some way to unravel him.

Choso was so tense, his body coiled so tightly, he couldn't control his thigh involuntarily twitching and his knee recoiled against your closet door.

He cursed himself for the millionth time at the lack of control he had around you, he had never had to restrain himself so much around anyone else.

Ecstasy was etched on your features as you looked around puzzled from where the noise came from.

However, the even louder boom of the front door slamming shocked you out of your blissful daze and stole your attention away.

You sat up quickly and wondered if your sorority sisters were back already.

You glanced at the clock.

10:32 pm.

It was still much too early for them to leave.

But who else could it be?

You groaned and reluctantly hopped off the bed, zipping up Choso’s jacket fully to hide the slick between your legs and went out to greet them so you could avoid them coming into your room and return to your solitude as quickly as possible.

You were tired, frustrated and still horny as hell.

You only wanted make yourself cum hard enough you could fall asleep and end this miserable ass day.

☠

“Girls~! You really didn’t have to leave so early~!”

You call out to your sisters.

It was a little late for a show of solidarity if that's what they thought they were doing.

You rolled your eyes.

But it was eerily quiet as you received no response.

That’s odd.

Walking down the hall you froze once the view from the top floor opens into the foyer below and you see the front door wide open.

Not a single soul in sight or to be heard.

“Girls?”

Fight or flight senses kick into gear altering you to the possible dangers below.

You might be a bit of a ditz but you studied enough forensics and had seen enough scary movies to know how this shit usually ended.

You turn back to run to your room to call someone but stopped as you noticed your phone on the entryway table by the door.

Crap.

Steeling yourself you slowly inched your way towards the staircase, stopping at times to lean over the banister for any signs of someone.

“This isn’t funny girls! You know I’ve already had a really shitty night!”

But only the hollow sound of wind whipping through the door answered you as it swayed on its hinges.

This was an older house.

Maybe you didn’t close the door all the way in the beginning?

No one in your sorority house ever locked the doors, which now you considered probably wasn’t the greatest tradition to keep up while you were at home all alone and a serial killer was on the loose.

You crept down the stairs trying to silence any creaks as best you could.

“I swear on a stack of Vogues if this is a prank you all of you whores will all be on campus clean-up community service duty for the rest of the semester!”

Still nothing but silence as you reached the bottom of the staircase.

The lights were on in the entire house. From what you could tell the den and living room areas surrounding the foyer were empty.

You sighed. Maybe it was just the wind.

You close the door and this time make sure to lock it as you clutch your phone and turn to scamper back upstairs when you feel something grab at you from behind.

“Want to die Y/N?”

You let out a screech as you whip your around to see a figure you recognize as Ghostface reach for you as you stumble backwards into the den.

Tripping over your own feet, you fall back landing on your injured hand and knocking your head against the edge of a coffee table.

A roar of laughter erupts as you groan dazed from the floor.

“You really are a clumsy ditz, babe.”

Puzzled and near concussed, you blink through blurry vision to see Dean pull off the Ghostface mask as he crouches down to your level and leans on his metal bat tauntingly.

Pain blossoms sharply in the back of your head and you can feel the puncture wound on your hand open and saturate your bandage.

“The fuck are you doing here Dean?”

You glared up at him through your one good hand that covered your face as you struggle to get your bearings back.

You couldn’t catch a fucking break tonight.

“Still being a huge bitch even though I came all the way over here to say sorry, eh?”

Dean hummed, brow raised as he chuckled.

“I thought a little fright would put you in a good mood, Y/N.”

“Nice way of apologizing Dean. Insult me, scare me half to death and give me a concussion.”

You knew this man was not sorry at all.

Someone sober enough had probably informed Dean that you did have the power to essentially kill their fraternity’s social life, cucking his entire house for the foreseeable future. They likely sent him to make things right with you ASAP.

But even with all that on the line your tool of an ex was such a huge dick he couldn’t even do the bare minimum to give you a decent apology like an actual human being (not that you would have accepted it).

“I see I was right about one thing though.”

Dean got your attention as he pointed down at the moisture running down your legs.

You immediately pull Choso’s jacket down further to cover yourself.

You couldn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. You’d confess to fucking the entire Forensics department if got him out of your face.

“Sure Dean, think what you want okay? Just fucking GET. OUT.”

You felt dizzy from the pressure thrumming in the back of your skull.

“Yeah and if I say no whore? Then what?”

Dean slid a clammy hand over your knee which sent another wave of nausea through you, your head spinning.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop his hand traveling lower before you suddenly noticed Dean’s body being ripped away from you entirely.

The scene that followed occurred in a whirlwind as your head felt like it would explode trying to focus on anything.

Your eyes strain to keep up with the action only registering fractions of it through your blurred vision.

You see…blood?

Is it yours?

No. It’s flowing from Dean’s shoulder.

Another person?

…Ghostface?

Yes.

Your double vision struggled to pinpoint exactly what was happening as Dean and the masked Ghostface fought for dominance, somehow ending up back in the foyer.

Dean was barely able to keep the large hunting knife from sinking into his chest.

Was this even real?

Were you really about to witness a Ghostface crime scene in action?

Were you next?

You felt like you were witnessing it all play out through someone else’s body as your mind floated off and you felt more disconnected.

Your awareness faded in and out.

There was no doubt, you definitely had a small concussion.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up as you finally hear Dean shouting your name although it sounded like you were in a fishbowl.

He had somehow gotten leverage and evened the odds with the killer as they both now had a hold of the blade’s handle.

“Y/N! Pay attention you ditzy ass bimbo! Don’t just sit there looking stupid, get the fucking bat.”

You scanned the floor around you.

Sure enough, there was the scuffed metal bat shining back at you resting by your knees.

Your injured hand grazes it and you see a red trail of blood smearing across it as the cool smooth metal soothes your ruptured skin.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you daydreaming about?! Get your ass over here!”

You grip the bat’s handle, ignoring the pain to use it and the coffee table as leverage to push you up off the floor.

You sway on your feet as your blood pressure drastically drops from standing too quickly.

Your head feels light.

Your body feels light.

Surprisingly too, even the large heavy metal bat now feels light in your injured palm.

“Fucking finally, Y/N!”

Dean yelled as he saw you on your feet.

“It’s not like I’m trying to fight off a killer here or anything dumb bitch.”

Dumb bitch?

Oh yeah, he means you.

God, Dean was fucking annoying you just wished he would shut up sometimes.

You couldn’t even think straight.

What were you doing again?

Right, the bat. He told you to bring it to him.

You wanted to sit down again. You were so tired.

You couldn't rest though as Dean’s voice was ringing in your ears.

You just wanted him to shut up more than anything so you willed yourself forward.

“Give Dean the bat, Give Dean the bat.”

You lowly repeated in a mantra like state.

Your vision was spotted with black dots swirling like the pain in your head.

GiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebat

You gripped the handle in both hands.

You were going to give Dean the bat.

“Y/N! Goddamn bitch move your lazy fuckin–”

C-R-A-C-K!

The slick sound ricochets throughout the entryway and reverberates in your ears.

C-R-A-C-K!

You feel warm droplets of moisture spray on you.

C-R-A-C-K!

The bat and Dean’s motionless body both simultaneously hit the floor with a thud.

You closed your eyes.

You felt… relief?

Like you could breathe again as the hazy veil that had shrouded your thoughts lifted and the throbbing in your head slowly receded.

You weren’t sure how to describe what you were feeling but it was some mix between euphoria, exhilaration and… freedom?

Well, you were finally free of Dean for good now.

You couldn’t help but be amused by that thought as you wiggle your toes in the warm red liquid that pooled around them.

A child-like giggle resounds from you.

Was this post nut kill clarity?

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror you noticed blood and chunks of brain matter strewn all over Choso’s jacket.

You wouldn’t be able to go without washing it now.

You frowned at the thought of his scent being washed away as well as you unzipped it, checking to see if the stains seeped through the lining too.

You had made such a mess.

Quick movements out of the corner of your eyes reminded you of the fact you were not alone.

The actual Ghostface killer stood mere feet away from you, his intentions clear as he visibly heaved and extended his knife out to the side approaching you.

You sighed exhausted.

“I’m not going to be able to blame this one on you, am I?”

Ghostface shook his head, confirming what you already knew.

☠

Choso felt his own adrenaline reach a frenzied peak.

He approached you with the animalistic stature of a predator who was sizing up another.

You were a killer now, no longer simply his prey.

Proving as much as eyes showed no remorse for the life you had taken.

Yet given what he had walked in on just minutes ago and how distraught you were leaving the party, there was nothing for to mourn anyway.

The only emotion your shown was concern for the on coming threat of him as you backed up to keep from his advances.

Heh, that could just as easily be him right now bleeding out on the floor.

He mused as he side stepped Dean’s body to stalk closer towards you.

Choso smirked, he was only disappointed he wasn’t the one to kill him.

Although he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked creating your own work of art.

A bit abstract and not as precise as his own methods.

Nevertheless, Choso continues to be amazed by how his cute and clumsy little undergrad just showed him a darkness he had only previously recognized in himself.

Choso watches you back away until your ankles hit the bottom of the staircase.

Your feet and hands were slick with blood and you couldn’t find your footing on the steps nor support yourself on the railing so you were forced to scooch up the stairs.

Yet given your injury even that proved difficult for you.

What would he do with you now?

“W-We’re even right? You saved me, I saved you.”

You tried to bargain as you saw him crawl up the staircase after you.

Ghostface cocked his head to the side considering your words as he reached you and stopped your escape with a strong gloved hand digging into the flesh of your hip.

Ghostface suspended himself over you covering your frame entirely and his metallic blade glared in the light as if it would pierce into you at the slightest whim.

Were you going to die like this?

Despite the danger you couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.

Especially as Ghostface’s touch reminded you so much of–

“Did you get off on killing your boyfriend Y/N?”

Ghosface taunted, speaking for the first time.

“...or were you already this fucking wet from fantasizing about someone else, hm?”

Your eyes widened.

Your mind raced too fast to reach a succinct conclusion. But you were disappointed to hear a voice box distortion instead of the actual person's voice beneath the mask.

Your flurry of jumbled thoughts are paused when you feel the cool caresses of the flat metal side of his blade drag across the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your chest heaved slowly with steady intensity as your breath shuddered.

“Are you turned on now Y/N?”

You look away from Ghostface as he taunts as you. You feel more self-conscious considering who you think is under the mask.

Just how fucked up was it you were turned on from murdering your boyfriend in cold blood to save a serial killer who might have been the guy you had just been masturbating to who was also the serial killer Ghostface and very likely about to kill you now?

Very.

Very fucked up was the answer.

You would have been ashamed if you could bring yourself to care.

Choso’s jerks your face back to him as the hand with the blade parts your legs.

The lust in your eyes and your drenched cunt were all the answers he needed.

“AHH!”

You cry out as you feel the smooth metal come down to slap your clothed pussy hard and slide against your lips.

You fight the urge to close your legs. You can’t or the sharpened edges of the knife would stab your thighs.

You bite your bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

This does not go unnoticed by Choso as he brings his gloved hand to your lips to soothe the bite.

His soft leather covered thumb hooks past your lips to guide your mouth open, exploring your mouth as you openly moan.

“Tsk, Tsk, we can't have you breaking skin and wasting more of that pretty blood that belongs to me.”

You shiver at his words dripping in possessiveness and your mouth encloses around his thumb, sucking as your tongue still squirms under its pressure.

A strained hiss comes from Choso and his eyes roam down to admire the slime trail of sticky fluid your clothed cunt dripped his blade.

Before Choso can get a peak at your pussy your hands fly down to cover yourself.

Amused, Choso gently removes his hand from your mouth to palm your inner thigh as his thumb slick from your spit rubs circles into your flesh.

His coaxing has you spreading your legs wider as he brushes up against the hands covering your cunt.

“Show me Y/N.”

He breathed out.

You pouted and shook your head.

“Is my little slut a liar then? I recall you telling me you didn’t mind if I saw your panties.”

Your suspicions confirmed you gasped in realization but Choso could no longer control himself as his hunting knife returned to your body to trail up your stomach this time the pointy edge hovering over your soft skin.

Your stomach sucks in to create distance between the blade and your skin causing your chest to push up through your arms but it's exactly what Choso had wanted.

Whoosh

With a swift slash through the air his blade slices your bra in two and its straps fall back down your shoulders laying bare your breast and hardened nipples to the cool air.

Exposed, your hands instinctively move from you core to cover your tits.

You see Choso pull back from you to sit up fully.

No longer touching you as he opted to imprint into his memory the imagery of your wet puffed pussy glistening through the soaked and now nearly transparent thong which clung to your lower lips like second skin.

He shifted his mask as the voice box moved from over this mouth.

“Y/N” he sighed.

Hearing his actual voice had you whining with need again.

Choso couldn’t keep his hands off you for long as he grasped hold of your thong and slipped his fingers between the fabric covering your cunt.

Choso rubbed the sticky moisture on the thin fabric between his thumb and forefingers while his knuckles bullied into your clit, causing your toes to curl.

“Mmm C-Choso.”

Your hands went from simply covering your tits to messaging them, pulling on your nipples, as you couldn’t hold back the sounds from the pleasure you felt from him touching you.

Shit. He wanted to ruin you.

Choso’s knife returns to your throat applying soft pressure dangerously close to breaking skin.

“So tell me what you want then, Y/N?”

Choso knew you wanted him but he wanted you to say it.

He needed you to admit it to him outright before he could really believe it.

His knuckles had stopped teasing your clit and your body trembled as you bucked your hips into his hand and pouted.

“I want you to hurry up and decide if you’re going to fuck me or kill me before my sorority sisters get back Choso!”

Choso smirked under the mask.

Becoming a killer turned you into a bit of a brat.

But he knew how to handle you.

Heh, fair enough.

Driving the knife into the staircase behind your head he pulls you up, swapping positions and seating you on his thigh.

He pulls his soiled track jacket off of you and you shiver as the cold air hits your back.

“Mm, Fuck me Choso”

You sighed longingly, arms encircling his neck.

“Mm, Should I though?”

Choso questions out loud as you melt deeper into him from his hands roaming your body.

One settles on your hip under the band of your thong and the other peels you back by your hair so Choso can see your eyes blown out fully with lust.

“Or should I make you wait like I’ve been waiting ever since you first stumbled into class in that slutty green skirt?”

You cried out and our tongue lolled out of your mouth when he yanked your panties roughly by the front, pulling the material between your pussy lips.

Your clit was cradled in the steamy fabric and you clutched the front of his robes for stability as your eyes rolled back.

“Do you know how much you made me suffer thinking about that pretty pussy of yours? How many times I fisted my cock? How much blood I spilled to forget the way you looked in those slutty outfits?”

Choso's own desire was apparent in his raspy voice.

You shake your head and tears spill as he pulls the fabric tighter over your clit.

“I-I w-wanted you too” you sniffled out.

“Then prove it.” Choso breathed out huskily.

“I want that needy cunt of yours to beg me by fucking herself real nice on my thigh like she did on your mattress earlier.”

You could have combusted as he admitted he had in fact been watching you from your closet but you couldn’t help but obey his orders.

The frantic way your heart pounded in your chest couldn’t trump the unbearable arousal between your legs.

You braced yourself on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips on him.

“That’s it baby.”

Choso encouraged you as you heard a loud rip and realized he had cut away your thong when you felt him snatch the material right off of you.

Your plump pussy lips parted when pressed onto his thigh and you felt the rough material of his heavy robes directly chafing against your clit.

Surrendering to pleasure you circled your hips to grind down on him as Choso started bouncing you on his leg.

The impact of your weight forcing your clit down while his thigh pushed up into you shaking.

“S-shiiiit D-daddy!”

You cried out arching back.

Choso could have busted in his pants completely untouched when he heard you call him daddy.

You didn’t know how much you had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured fingers.

He would kill every single one of those bastard frat fucks on campus on a whim if you asked him to.

He would do anything for you.

Choso's muscular thigh flexing underneath your cunt felt amazing but your hole was screaming to be filled as it gaped around the phantom thought of his cock penetrating you.

“N-Need more. S’not enough Daddy”

You beg, whining into the mouth opening of his mask.

Your breath enters through the material as your hot tongue presses against the cloth barrier hungrily.

His own tongue responds in kind, entangling with yours through his mask and you moan deeper into the opening.

You feel so good yet are still frustrated that you were naked while you couldn’t even see a sliver of skin from him still in his full Ghostface attire.

You move to lift up his mask when he stops you, breaking the makeshift kiss.

“Now, now Y/N.”

Choso playfully chides.

“Can you think of nothing but my dick? You’ve forgotten so quickly this is still a crime scene?”

You panted as you looked over your shoulder and spot the gruesome remains of Dean’s lifeless body and half bashed in face. Blood stained the foyer rug and pieces of tissue splattered on curtains, walls and even the fake plants.

Right.

You still had no idea what you were going to do about that situation but Dean was already dead. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Honestly you felt as if you might die as well if you couldn’t get Choso’s dick inside of you soon.

Your hips never stopped grinding down on his thigh as you returned your attention to him.

You knew if Choso couldn’t even kiss you, he couldn’t fuck you either as those same rules applied to both potential sources of DNA.

“S’fine.” You pout.

“I-I had your jacket, y-your DNA could c-come from that.”

Your injured hand came to cup the slide of his masked face and your other rubbed the outline of cock over his jeans, feeling the precum soil through them despite the thickness of the fabric.

Blood from your hand smeared onto the pristine white Ghostface mask as you pulled your foreheads to touch.

“I’ll admit Dean was right, w-we w-were sleeping together...”

Choso chuckled.

“..and get me expelled for sleeping with a student on top of a motive to connect me to your victim?”

He gave your ass harsh smack.

Your cheeks clenched and your panting grew more ragged as you chased your high against him.

“Y/N you gotta think with that sexy little head of yours not that needy little cunt if you really want me to fuck you. I know you’re smart. This should be easy for you.”

You groaned.

Thinking was virtually impossible right now.

You wanted to give up and resort to begging again but Choso calling you smart (something your recently deceased ex never did) and now rubbing your thighs encouragingly, had made you so happy you wanted to make him more proud of you.

You reluctantly stopped your hips, ignoring the fiery ache shooting through in your cunt but you wanted to cum from his cock not his thigh.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

Focus Y/N, you willed yourself.

Focusing became harder to do though when Choso became impatient and had nuzzled his masked face into your chest.

His mouth latched to your nipple through the black cloth, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth against your bud causing it to swell.

“Oh!” you smiled sweetly down at him and his abs tightened as he held you closer to him.

“We get rid of the body! Clean up and make sure there's no crime scene to be found!”

“That’s correct,” Choso praised you as if you answered a question in class correctly.

“Now, most importantly, how exactly will we get rid of the body, Y/N?”

“We…w-we..”

Your fingertips grazed your lips and you bit a nail as you pensively considered your options.

You looked like you were thinking so hard on this.

So fucking cute.

“Come on baby, tell me.”

Choso was the one begging you now while he lifted your hips just enough to pull up his robes and position you to straddle his dick straining against his jeans.

You were so close to the answer. He knew it would come to you and he wanted to be inside of you as soon as you got it.

You clasped your hands together and gave him one of your pageant winning smiles he grew to love.

“We make a kill room!”

“Smart girl” Choso said as he lifted his mask and his lips came crashing down on yours.

☠

“Shit-Shit-Shit!”

You cried as you lower yourself onto Choso’s cock.

You had begged and pleaded him for this but Choso was so much bigger and longer than you expected.

You never had a problem taking dick before but not only was Choso huge he had 3 rows of top and frenum ladder ball piercings on his long veiny cock that dragged against your gspot when you tried to force him inside you.

You still had about an inch to go and his fat cockhead was already pressing against your cervix.

“Fuck baby you really been keeping all this good pussy from me?”

Choso spread your cheeks to assist you down on his enlarged length but your walls vice gripped his cock preventing him from guiding you down further.

Choso grunted, he was going to cum fast if you didn’t ease up.

Pulling you back, he captured your lips again devouring them as he violently pushed his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, dominating you completely.

A tremor shot through your cunt as your hips jerked and your legs quivered.

“My slutty girl is so sensitive she came from just kissing?”

Choso teased knowingly pulling back to allow you air and lapping at the drool from the corners of your mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

Without the hindrance of a mask Choso’s kisses felt like he was eating you alive and set your body ablaze.

Your orgasm came with enough intensity to loosen your walls allowing you to finally sink down to the base. However your legs were still vibrating and unable to support you riding him.

You fell forward into the crook of his neck.

“C-can’t D-daddy” you babbled into his neck drooling.

Choso wanted to tease you more. He wanted to goad and praise you enough so you would ride him in earnest until your perfect pretty face sobbed for him to fuck you but time was of the essence now.

You both probably had a good hour and a half left before the cops broke up the party and members of your sorority started heading back.

He needed to finish you quickly and he silently promised to take his time with you later.

Rising up, Choso positioned his arms under your thighs to keep you seated on his cock as he walked up the few steps to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase.

Placing your back carefully against the wall he glides his hands over your sweat and blood laden skin to lift your legs onto his shoulders. His grip settles onto the fat of your ass and he marvels at how his fingers sink into them.

Choso allows you time to get adjusted to the new position as he now held you in a standing mating press.

“Ready?”

You nod and Choso takes that as his greenlight to rigorously fuck you into the wall with such vigor you felt it quaking behind you.

There was no possible way you could have ever been ready for that though and your hands dive into his hair tugging at the roots under his man buns as if you intended to scalp him.

Your reactions fuel his cruel thrusts as Choso greedily drinks your guttural screams into his mouth.

They sound more heavenly than any he had heard before even from his own victims.

Slamming you down on his cock, Choso manhandled you like you weighed nothing to him.

His piercings and engorged veins continue to scrape the walls of your core with every stroke as you gush around him soaking his robes.

Choso wanted more of you.

He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

You felt so fucking good he could fuck you like this for hours and he cursed the dwindling time he had before he needed to remove himself from the warm comfort of your mushy cunt.

The hallway echoed with sounds of his hips sadistically ramming your body further into the wall as well as the sloshy vulgar noises his cock tore from your tight creamy cunt.

“S-so c-lose Cho–”

Were the only words you could croak out as your cries become lodged in your throat.

The pleasure you received being folded between Choso and the wall had you salivating like crazy. Drool was pooling in your mouth faster than it could dribble out down the sides.

You locked eyes with him.

The wild glint in them was so primordially feral you can’t believe you ever mistook the restraint he tried to maintain around you for shyness.

Frankly, there was nothing timid about him.

The cold confidence of a true killer radiated off of him and into your core as each of his thrusts felt like they were stabbing into your womb.

Your whines turned into horse croaks as you desperately gasped for air.

Like a killer he showed you no mercy as his long cock shifted your guts up and into your lungs.

Choso was quite literally murdering your cunt.

“Yeah Y/N? Is my girl gonna cum all pretty like on this dick?”

Too cockdrunk to reply, your pussy readily spoke up for you as your walls clenched and spasmed. White stars flood your vision as your body vibrates against him as you cum hard, gurgling his name.

Choso’s hips stuttered and his moans increased as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own.

He knew better than to cum inside you, he wasn’t wearing a condom and didn’t even know if you were on birth control.

But your cunt was like a drug to him so Choso resigned himself to cleaning you up after as he gave one last thrust, injecting you with his hot seed that scorched your insides and sent you spasming all over again.

It took a few minutes for Choso to catch his breath but he gently released your legs down to touch the floor as he pulled out of you.

You groaned immediately at the loss after being so full as you still tried to regain your own steady breaths.

Not missing a beat, Choso moved with reverence as if he was worshiping your form from the kisses he peppered down your chest and belly.

“Eyes on me baby,”

Choso ordered, glancing up at you.

You nodded your breath hitching once he reached below your belly button and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder again.

He shamelessly breathed in the scent of sex wafting off your pussy.

The musky mixture of his cum and your juices combined with sweat and blood entered his nostrils and sent his eyes rolling back into his skull.

You shuddered.

You wanted to feel his mouth on you more than anything but you knew you couldn’t both remain like this in the open hallway for much longer.

Seemingly forgetting all concerns of time, Choso’s thumbs lightly ghost over your battered pussy lips as he slowly peeled back the slippery folds.

His chest swoll with pride seeing how much of his cum you had taken inside of you.

Choso's tongue salaciously darted out to catch the drippings that seeped out of your messy little cunt.

Despite your concerns, you can’t resist bucking up towards his face as he brought your hips off the wall towards him.

“Be patient princess, let me enjoy this.”

Choso open handedly spanks your pussy, landing a direct hit on your clit which has you shaking as your squirt spritz onto his face.

His thick tongue rolls out of his mouth like a man starved licking his lips at the feast before him

“Goddamn, I already love her so much”

He cooed into your cunt while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Go out with me, yeah Y/N? I’ll treat her right. Just let me have a taste of her everyday.”

You almost came on his face again from the utter display of depravity he was showing you, not missing the fact he was so pussy drunk he was technically asking your cunt to be his girlfriend instead of you.

To be fair you were both way past the point where he needed to ask you out anyway as he was an accomplice to your homicide and soon-to-be cover up.

“Okay Choso, I’ll be your girlfriend,”

You grinned at him.

Choso thanked you by gently placing a kiss on your clit before nose-diving into your folds like a mad man between your legs.

Seeing how sensitive you are it wasn't long before he had you thrashing on his lips from the nasty way he heartily ate your cunt out.

The suckling, bubbling and squeaking sounds of him inhaling your pussy nearly had you at your peak again.

Yet you were snapped out of your pleasure when you heard the grandfather clock in the hall ring signaling it was midnight.

Fuck what if the party got broken up earlier than expected?

“W-we don’t have time for this Choso.” You plead anxiously as you pry his head out of from between your legs.

The sounds of the clock chiming and the sight of Dean’s body still laying in the entryway made you more nervous with every passing minute it remained there.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on you as he nuzzled his nose back into your cunt hooking it under your clitoral hood.

“Oh? My sweet girl gets one kill and thinks she knows better than me what we have time for?”

His expression dares you to pull him away again as he drags the flat of his tongue lazily over your clit.

“Please Choso…”

Choso relents as he feels you tense up more, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless you were.

“You trust me right Y/N?”

“Yes”

You breathe out as his fingers play with your puffed pussy lips.

“Do you have the key to the basement?”

You nod.

“And you know exactly where the supply closet is, baby?”

You nod again.

“Perfect. This won't take long at all then.”

Choso assures you as his confident words calm your worries.

“So now just relax princess and let me take care of you. This isn’t my first clean up job babe…”

You weren’t sure if Choso was talking about your cunt or the dead body, but you didn’t doubt he was experienced in both.

“Give me 15 minutes to see how many times I can make you squirt on my tongue. Then we can finally make that dexter kill room you like so much, yeah?”

You nodded once more and Choso wasted no time drowning his face back into your cunt.

You sighed contently.

He was already the best boyfriend you ever had.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: How was that? Did I do our emo kang justice? Lmk! (y'all better lmk cause y'all busted my balls for days over this lmfaoooo)

Also ding dong Dean is DEAD thank fuck. Whew I made that man as horrible as possible so you could kill him. Tbh, I would kill a nigga just for pouring Milwakees in my hair alone, that shit smells and tastes like cat piss lol.

Also here if y'all wanna see a cute lil pixivi I made of me bimbo!reader x Ghostface!Choso.

You know the original idea for this was actually based on a fic I was writing where Choso, Yuji and Sukuna (all brothers) all transfer to your university and bimbo!reader (no bf this time) clearly likes Choso but his oblivious emo ass has no idea and keeps being a dick to you cause he thinks you are just making fun of him. LOL! I may in the future still end up writing a version for that since this ended up going in a completely different direction with Ghostface thrown into the mix.

Y'all this fic was way too fuckin long. I know theres likely errors/redundancies still so I will comb through it later and I may edit/reword somethings too but general content will stay the same. Tbh, what took so long is the last scene cause I decided I cannot write a smut fic with Choso where that man isn't acting completely deranged and unhinged over the taste of pussy. He's munch, he can't help it.

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to be your personal munch, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

Next up on Kizzatober, Werewolf!Toji from Thrilling Ghouls! (PWP)

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13 @strvqtt @wisteriaflowersss @spookyy-gracee @jujutsualy @anakalana @crying-person @missphanosaur18 @jazzmynerule @megatqistina @trobed1312 @mimiemie @insomninaz @bloodysweetcat @cyyberm00n @nikkitc0703 @briefrebelfanalmond (so sorry if I missed anyone but I'm delirious rn forgive me ily)

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heavenblvd · 3 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey obx #drew starkey one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x female reader

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stargirllanaa · 3 months

Text

Sweet Little Lies -R.C

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, infidelity, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, domestic violence, manipulation, slight mentions of past Dv, seriously Rafe is terrible

Summary: Everything goes downhill once you look through your boyfriends phone.

A/n ✎: Sorry I’ve been gone so long :( I have alot going on in my personal life and it’s been hard to get motivated to write. Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed!!! Btw my request are open again, don’t be shy ;)

Wc: 1.2k

18+ MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

You were sitting on your boyfriend's bed, scrolling through Instagram while waiting for him to return from his shower. You laughed at something your friend sent you until you heard a ‘Ding!’ from Rafe's phone. You were surprised Rafe must have forgotten it; he never left his phone around you after he caught you going through it one too many times, but you ignored it; it was probably his dad or something you had no interest in.

You continued to scroll until you heard another ‘Ding!’ followed by three more. Who could be texting Rafe that many times? As your curiosity rose, you thought to yourself maybe you would just peak, but you knew you had to be quick; every time Rafe saw you even looking at his phone, he got angry, and when you remembered the time he caught you going through his messages, it sent a shiver down your spine.

You gazed at the bathroom door, hearing the water still running, and back to his phone. You quickly grabbed the phone, anxiety heightening as soon as it was in your hands. You tapped the screen, looking down at it in confusion as you read the name of the person texting him.

Sofia.

Your anger and anxiety started to rise as soon as you saw the girl's name. Why would a random girl be texting your boyfriend? What was going on between them? You were about to enter his password when you heard the bathroom door opening. You quickly tossed his phone back to where he had left it, but he noticed it bouncing off the bed and the guilty look on your face.

You sat stiff and played with your hair, pretending nothing had happened, but you couldn't ignore how Rafe looked at you. He lowered his eyebrows, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed; he looked furious.

“What are you doing?” Rafe questioned you as he stalked over to you, towel wrapped around his waist.

He noticed what you were doing, or else he wouldn't be asking you, so there was no point in lying, right?

“Who’s Sofia?” you asked Rafe as you looked up at him through your eyebrows.

You could tell his heart skipped a beat by the way he blankly stared past you as his eyebrows rose. You could also tell the gears in his brain were moving, trying to create a lie; by the way, he stood silently for a moment.

“Why were you going through my phone?” Rafe spat aggressively as he looked back down at you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why does it matter? Do you have something to hide?” You quickly responded, pushing yourself off the bed into a standing position.

Rafe exhaled loudly as he walked over to you; he didn’t want to say too much. Rafe didn't know how much you saw, but he knew that you already knew way more than he wanted you to.

“Here we go with the accusations again..” Rafe muttered, getting closer and closer to you.

But you wouldn't let him intimidate you; you stood your ground.

“Are you going to answer the question?” you asked bluntly, trying not to get too emotional.

Rafe was making it so blatantly clear he was doing something behind your back; he was hiding something. Why not just answer the question if there was nothing to hide? Why did he freak out whenever he saw you looking at his phone? You knew subconsciously he was cheating; you just wanted him to admit it.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to go through my shit?” Rafe hissed, talking with his hands.

“I wouldn't have to if you would stop fucking around!” you snapped, pushing him slightly.

He didn't move, not even a little bit; instead, he wrapped his hand around your upper arm, gripping it tightly in one swift motion, causing you to wince in pain.

“Who are you talking to?” Rafe asked, looking you directly in the eyes. “Huh?” he sneered, shaking you roughly.

You could tell this wouldn't end well; you should have kept your mouth shut and apologized, but how were you supposed to move on and act fine, knowing your boyfriend was probably talking to other girls? That wasn't happening, and you already started this, so it would be pointless not to stand your ground.

“Is there anyone else in the room?” You hissed sarcastically, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp.

This made Rafe even angrier; first, you went through his phone and accused him of doing something he obviously did, and then, to make matters worse, you were being incredibly disrespectful. He started taking fast breaths before letting go of your arm and pushing you roughly, causing you to collide with his dresser, knocking the wind out of you.

You fell to the floor; the push was unexpected, and you hit the dresser so hard it brought tears to your eyes. This wasn't the first time Rafe had hurt you; it wasn't even the first time he hurt you for this reason. But every time he put his hands on you, it still shocked you.

How could someone who claims to love you like to see you in pain?

Rafe stalked over to you, kneeling over you and gripping a hand full of your hair. His eyes narrowed, looking directly into your tearful ones.

“You want this? Don't you?” Rafe accused, trying to make an excuse for how he treats you. “You act like a bitch and then wonder why I have to hurt you,” he said, pulling your hair back, forcing you to look back up at him.

“Do you hurt Sofia too?” you choked out as your tears spilled over; every breath you took was shaky in response to the pain all over your scalp.

Rafe's jaw clenched, a slight smirk painted on his lips; he looked up and back down at you.

“Maybe I don't. Maybe she knows how to fucking act.” Rafe hissed, pulling your head back further, causing your neck to hurt also.

You didn't respond; you just stared at him as your tears continued to run down your face rapidly. You kind of already knew he was cheating, but you didn't know how much it would hurt to hear him basically confirm your suspicions; while also hurting you physically.

“Maybe that's why I have to fuck other people.” Rafe fumed as he got closer to your face.

“Because you are so fucking irritating.” He let go of you with that, but he was still looking down at you with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.

And even though he let go, the pain didn't stop; that's the worst thing anyone has ever said to you. You knew you didn't deserve this, yet every time you told yourself you would leave, you convinced yourself not to.

“You wanted this, remember?” Rafe taunted, “What? Can't take the truth now?”

You brought your knees up to your chest, continuing to cry; you weren't just sad and hurt; you were also so fucking angry, angry with yourself for never having to courage to leave Rafe, angry with him for treating you like this, furious with the world for letting so man men get away with this shit.

“Now move; I need to get in my dresser.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!

Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘cruel world’

#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #dark!rafe x reader #dark!fic #rafe outer banks

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thelunarsystemwrites · 2 months

Text

Inviting other artists!

So I've just made a superhero AU for utmv. Right? Well, I really only wanted to design one guy, Lust. Sooo I'm opening the AU (WHICH LITERALLY HAS NO LORE YET SO NO WORRIES) for others to partake in!

Here's like, the basic lay out.

Choose one Sans AU to turn into superhero/villain. Please refrain from using a Sans someone else claimed.

Make them into a superhero/villain themed after something specific. (Example: A plant themed superhero, or even a cactus one!)

Keep powers balanced with weaknesses, please make them relate to their theme!

Give them a civilian identity! You don't have to draw this one, but make sure to mention their civil job and name!

Give them a Superhero/Villain name as well!

Wait, supervillain?

OH YES! You can choose the mortal alignment of your claimed Sans! Super hero, villain, neutral, vigilante? Just pick whatever you want!

Of course headcanons are welcome, it's Canon to YOUR design! Make them trans, gay, autistic, whatever! (Human designs are allowed too!)

Wait.. what do I (the artist reading this) Even get out of doing this?

Well I'll tell you! For one, its a fun artist challenge where you personalize and create a whole new hero/Villain to your preferences!

You also get to imagine their lore, and incorporate their personality into the story! They'd all be canon part of the AU. (Note: if someone claimed a sans first and you did it anyways, yours wouldn't be Canon unless issues occurred with the OG/they gave you permission.)

I dunno, I just wanna make an AU with a ton of people, ya know? I think it's be fun for us to work together on this.

CLAIMED LIST:

Lust: Hero. Complete. By @thelunarsystemwrites.

Reaper: Vigilante. Completed by @solusminds.

Outer: Vigilante. Complete by @dzasterdumpterfire

Ink: Retired Hero. Complete by @lix88888

Error: Supervillain. Complete by @its-paperd

Dust: Claimed by @billygoat26

Farmer: Claimed by @absurdumsid

Cross: Claimed by @weirdest-worlds

Geno: Claimed by @eldritchcats

Shattered: Claimed by @genderfluidyellowocto

Nightmare: Supervillain. Completed by @analexthatexists

Killer: Claimed by @a-menacetosociety

Dream (and core frisk): Claimed by @thenocturnenarrator

Blue: Superhero, complete by @createbellatheartist

Fell: Supervillain, complete @underrrtaleee-freakk

Quantum: Superhero. Completed by @nashdoesstuff (Also made an OC for the AU, Dreamshade! Superhero.)

Horror: Neutral Evil. Completed by @it-came-from-mount-ebott

Ccino: Claimed by @some-aroace-chaos

Fresh: Claimed by @nightmareishomophobic

Die sans: Claimed by @dustsansm1

Bill: Supervillain. Completed by @endless-emptyness (OC Nanno made by sane person!)

Epic: Claimed by @dtdrawz

Fatal error: Claimed by @spookyboris2

Swan: Claimed by @glitching-moon

Sci: Claimed by @joonebugg

Dance: Claimed by @dv-reblogs

Swad: Claimed by @shinanigans-art

Littletale: Claimed by @somehhuuuhh

Possession: Claimed by @b0nerific-individual

Alter: Claimed by @annabel184

Paperjam: Vigilante. Completed by @papple

Decadent society: Supervillain. Complete by @supper122

Green Sans: Claimed by @xxcross-is-a-helicopterxx

Roulette: Claimed by @ant1quarian

On the claimed list, if you claim a Sans (By commenting or reblogging saying "Dibs Blank!" Or "Can I do blank?" Etc! I'll add it on the List saying: "Sans: Claimed by User"

Once it's made, please tag me so I can see! Then I'll update it to "Sans: Moral alignment. By User." And link it on this post! [Please only claim one, we want enough to go around! However you can claim variations! So one person could make dream, another could make shattered!]

[Note I do not claim any ownership over your designs for the AU, nor will I use your design w/o permission.]

With all that said! Anyone interested? [And hey, if you're not interested? It's okay to just not join. Or ignore this!]

Asks! (Questions regarding the AU!)

Can we make our own lore woth other characters?

Secondary claims?

Only two grabs?

Can we have OCs?

Can we use our own AUs?

#Superhero AU #undertale au #alternate universe #undertale alternate timeline #Utmv #underlust #undertale #Aus #Art #If anyone wants to join in just lemme know!#Utmv superhero au

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madeofkay · 3 months

Text

Rainy Nights | Moon Knight X Reader

ONE SHOT (maybe?)

warnings: jake/marc/steven x fem!reader, angst, !!!dv abuse (not by them, but by an ex), stalking, creepy text messages, and so many typos (ill edit it soon— i wrote this at 4am lol)

summary: When your coworker Steven has growing concerns regarding your safety from an ex-boyfriend, he decides to drive you home one night.

please reblog if u liked it! i love to see comments too :)

Anxiety pooled in the cavity of your chest as you walked through the dimly lit museum, its halls empty now past closing time. A relentless patter of rain against the roof amplified your defeated mood, casting a pall over the end of your shift. Leaning wearily against the gift shop counter, you let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you.

“A long day for you?”

The male voice behind you jolts you, and you spin around, startled. "Maybe a warning next time?" you suggest, holding a hand over your racing heart.

Steven's lips form an 'o' of surprise before he nods hastily. "Apologies, really. I won't sneak up on you like that again." His eyes carry more guilt than he deserves, and you regret snapping at him.

"No worries, I might just startle too easily," you reply, resting your elbows on the countertop. "Nevermind me, how was your day, Steven?"

Steven's nerves spike at the chance to converse with you, a rarity amid your busy tour guide schedule. "Oh, you know," he stammers, grappling for words to make his boring gift shop shift sound cool. "Just a usual day for me." His gaze unintentionally dips to your attire, and he flushes, flustered by the sight of your breasts pressed together.

He shouldn’t look at you that way, he knows that. But you make him so nervous.

“I’m starting to think that I should’ve had control of the body for this interaction,” Marc spoke in his mind.

You nod and smile, charmed by Steven's shyness. "I hope that’s a good thing," you remark, recalling the challenges of your day as a tour guide at the museum. "Today, I was basically herding a bunch of primary school children. They were running off in every direction, and the chaperones were on their phones! It felt like I was conducting a circus instead of a museum tour." You gesture an explosion with your hand, prompting a cheeky smile from Steven.

A pinging sound from your pocket interrupts his response. Your eyebrows furrow as you dig it out of your dress pocket, unlocking it with your passcode.

Where are you, y/n?

Your heart sinks as you read the text from an unknown number, fear washing over your expression. Steven notices the shift in your demeanor, and resists the urge to glance at your phone. "I'm sorry, I just need to respond to this message," you murmur, turning away, your breaths growing shallow.

Please, it’s over. Just leave me alone.

His response came fast.

You know that isn’t true. I’ll come get you, why aren’t you home? I still care.

Are you already cheating on me with somebody else?

Please just tell me where you are, I’m sorry. I miss you so much. I just want to fucking talk to you.

A barrage of texts from your ex-boyfriend fills the screen with message bubbles. You swallow, feeling the weight clog your throat, your hands trembling as the desire to go home fills you.

To hide. That is, if home was still safe.

Steven's concern deepens as he draws near, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You flinch at the touch, hastily shoving your phone back into your pocket. But you know he's already had a glimpse of your phone screen. "Is everything alright, love?" he inquires, his voice laced with concern.

Marc was pissed off inside Steven’s head. “Who the fuck was texting her all of that?” he spat. Confusion grew in Steven’s mind as he contemplated the identity of the person behind the creepy messages. Lines of worry formed at the base of his forehead from the sound of your silence.

You force a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the turmoil swirling within. "It's nothing, just someone texting the wrong number," you respond, your voice strained with feigned nonchalance. Deep down, you know it's far from nothing. The barrage of texts dredges up memories you've tried so hard to bury, reopening wounds you thought had healed.

Steven's brow knit together, his gaze probing but respectful of your boundaries. "If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here," he offers gently, his sincerity evident in his soft tone. His words offer some reassurance amidst the anxiety raging inside your head.

You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Steven nods his head in understanding after a few moments, unsure as to his next words. “Y/N,” he pauses, “allow me to drive you home tonight, it is quite late.”

Your mouth parts slightly without a response as you turn back to look at him. His eyes drag over your sunken expression, clearly worried. The sound of rain hitting the museum roof and the darkness of the night influence your decision. “Okay,” you smile gratefully, “I’d appreciate that very much.”

—

Steven guided the way to his car, his presence feeling like steady anchor. The car ride unfolded in silence, punctuated only by the soft tunes of the radio's top hits playing at a low volume. Each bump in the road sent tremors through the small cabbie car, accentuated by the relentless rain hammering against the windows. You felt a sudden jolt as the car hit a rain-filled pothole, splashing dirty street water against the passenger window.

With trembling hands, you power off your phone, the text messages echoing in the back of your mind. Your clammy palms press together, trying to hold onto something solid. As the car gets closer to your neighborhood, your gaze slowly lifts from your lap, uncertainty flickering in your mind.

"Y/N," Steven's voice breaks the silence, causing your heart to slam against your chest like a trapped animal. "This might sound strange, but I want to ask you something."

You nod hesitantly, the taste of blood coating your tongue as you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, a nervous habit of yours.

"Are you sure you want to go back to your apartment alone?" His words hang heavy in the air, abundant with concern. He pauses, using the weight of his gaze to prob you for a response. "I saw some of those messages," he continues upon your silence, his voice gentle but firm. "If you need anything... I mean it, I can help you."

You interject sharply, a defensive edge creeping into your tone. "Please, don't get involved. I'm sorry you saw that, but he's harmless, I swear." Doubt snakes its way down your spine as you utter the words, his past violent outbursts echoing in your brain. The phantom memory of dark bruises left behind from the hard grip of his hands on your skin.

Grabbing, pulling, pushing you.

You fight your facial expression to seem happier, trying to reassure him that everything was alright despite the dread pulling down at your faux smile.

His car rolled to a gradual halt in front of your apartment building as the contents of your stomach threatened to come out of your throat in the form of vomit. You avert your gaze, but you can feel his eyes on you, silently pleading for a change of heart.

"Thank you, Steven," you say quietly, drawing in a sharp breath. "I don't know how I would've managed without you."

You muster a grateful smile, reeling yourself in as you gather your things from the car floor and step out. He breaks the silence by clearing his throat, causing you to pause and lean back into the open door to meet his gaze. Rain hits the clothing on your back.

"I can be there for you whenever," he says earnestly, “Please, don't hesitate to call me if you need me for anything, truly." He extends his hand, offering a taxi business card with his phone number written on it.

—

London Premium Taxi Service

Lockley, Jake

+44 20 1234 5679

—

Your eyebrows knit together at the unfamiliar name on the business card, but with rain still trickling down your clothing, the question fades from your thoughts. "Thank you again, Steven," you murmur, finally closing the cabbie door.

You walk hurriedly out of the rain and into your building, watching the cabbie car drive off as you make it inside. It felt worse to watch your reassurance of safety leaving. With a deep sigh, you enter the arriving elevator and watch as it ascends to your floor. A sense of unease nips at your resolve.

As the doors slide open with a soft hiss, your heart lurches in terror at the sight of him down the hall. A tall man standing outside your apartment door.

Him.

Shock freezes you in place, your breath catching as you lock eyes with your ex-boyfriend. “Oliver?”

“Y/N,” he proclaims breathlessly, his eyes widening with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. As you cautiously step closer, you can see a strange look to his pupils, as if under the influence of some kind of drug.

He speaks again, reaching out toward you. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You instinctively pull your arm away from him, but as quickly as you do, he grabs it again with greater force. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady your trembling nerves. “Why are you here?” A crack in your voice gives your weakness away.

"I just said I missed you, babe," he replies, his tone muddied with false concern. "You're all wet. Let's get inside and get you into something warm."

Your mind races, but every idea that comes to you gets jumbled. You never could properly articulate your thoughts around him. Today was no different. This was your fault, you should have hid yourself better.

You summon the last shreds of your resolve. “I don’t need your help, Oliver,” you manage to say, but your tone is not as firm as you wanted it to be. “Please, just leave.”

His lip curl upward as he tightens his grip on your arm. You suck in a breath, watching his as he slowly moves his free hand to your face. A stand your hair gets pushed back by his fingers, gently yet his fingers forcefully press into the skin of your face. “I won’t ask again,” he whispers.

You comply, digging your apartment key out of your work tote and hand it to him, your apology tumbling off your lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” you say shakily, trying to placate him.

“Good girl,” he says, taking the key from your trembling hands. And with a sense of dread pooling in the pit of your stomach, you watch as he unlocks your door with ease. The sound of the latch and the creak of the opening door echo in your ears. “Let’s go inside, love.”

As his hand releases your arm and slides down your waist to the small of your back, a shiver runs down your spine at the touch. With a guiding push, he leads you inside, the door closing with a soft click behind the two of you.

Oliver strides into the kitchen with an air of familiarity, his movements purposeful as he rummages through the cabinets and refrigerator for food. "Make yourself comfortable, love," he calls out, carrying a hint of authority as he commands the space.

You take a hesitant seat on your couch, the weight of his presence looming over you like a dark cloud. With trembling hands, you slip off your shoes, but in that moment, you think of what to do.

“Thank you, my love,” you force, “I’m going to go to the bathroom first, okay?”

He nods his head silently, gripping a bottle of wine as he pours himself a glass.

Walking into the bathroom, you close the door behind you with a shaky breath. You flick the business card between your fingers nervously as you dial Steven's number. Your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for him to pick up.

A gruff voice comes through the phone. “London’s Premium Taxi Service, how may I help you today?”

"Steven, is that you? It’s me, Y/N," you whisper urgently, the words tumbling from your lips in a frantic rush. "My ex-boyfriend is inside my apartment, he may be high on something, I’m not sure. I don’t want to get the police involved again, what do I do?”

A screech of tires pierces through the phone line. “Where are you in your flat right now? W—what floor is it on?” Steven stammers, his concern noticeable even through the phone.

You hear the unmistakable crash of a dish breaking outside of the bathroom in your kitchen, sending your heart racing in panic. “I live in 3D. I’m in the bathroom right now,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Stay there and keep the door locked, do not come out no matter what, okay? I’ll be right there to go get you,” Steven’s voice serves as a lifeline for a brief moment before the call ends abruptly. Tears begin to spill as you choke back your sobs.

You hear footsteps from outside the bathroom door. “Y/N! Come clean this fucking mess up,” Oliver’s voice permeates through the door, sending you into a quiet spiral as your hand drags over your lips to keep them shut.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N. Fucking answer me, open this door. What the fuck are you doing in there?” A pounding knock hits the door as it rattles against its frame.

“Open the door!” The sound of his shouting muffles in your brain and you slip into a panic attack, air refusing to saturate your lungs. The door shakes with every hard pound and pull of the door knob.

With a final slam, the door comes off its hinges as Oliver forces his way inside the bathroom. Your body trembles with sobs as you beg him for forgiveness, but his heavy hands fall on you anyway.

The force of his backhand sends you tumbling to the floor, the impact echoing through the small confines of the bathroom. In your haze, you’re unable to comprehend the words he shouts at you. The world blurs around you as his blows to your body continue. Your eyes flutter, the world spinning dizzily around you as he beats you with a savage force.

Until it stops. You take several moments to collect yourself, regaining your strength to be able to open your eyes. Two voices echo in the walls of your apartment as the ringing stops and your hearing slowly returns. A loud thud shakes the floorboards, followed by footsteps towards you.

“Y/N?” says a sweet voice, unrecognizable to you. “I should have gotten here faster, I’m so sorry.”

A gentle hand caresses your face as you try to open your eyes. Steven’s worried face comes into view, the coworker you’ve grown a liking to over the past few weeks. His phone is pressed against his ear and he speaks urgently into it.

“Steven?” you whisper, the words barely above a breath. In your daze, perhaps you had been delusional, mistaking his British accent for an unrecognizably coarse American one.

“I’m right here,” he exclaimed softly, caressing your hair. “I’m on the phone, an ambulance is on its way.”

As sirens soon begin to wail in the distance, piercing through the thin walls of the building, you find comfort in Steven’s gentle touches. You know that you’ll be okay.

#moon knight #marc spector #marvel fic #marvel #steven grant #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #fanfiction

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