Oh, You Wanna Play Psycho Killer?
WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat, noncon, kidnapping trope, dubcon, p in v smut, violence, knifeplay, bloodplay, cutting(light), blackmail, choking, humiliation, dom/sub trope, mentions of murder, death treats, dacryphilia, degradation, very degrading names!, veryy dark. seriously very dark take on noncon.
Happy October, everyone! I thought I'd post a story in honor of the spooky season for dark romance lovers. 🎃 Slow burn but heavy smut at the end!!! Let me know your thoughts on the writing/characters below <3
Two months. It's only been two months of me living here.
"We encourage everyone to stay at home tonight." The reporter's voice warbled from my old TV as my eyes stayed glued to the screen, unable to process the news.
"Sheriff Peterson has confirmed the news- three dead, and from the same type of attack."
A picture fills the screen- a man with a white ghost mask, staring into the camera from a shadowed alleyway.
"It is likely that he will claim more victims if he can." The noise seems to fade away as I lean back on my couch, the picture burning into my memory.
Two months of me living here, and a serial killer is out on the loose.
"Even if it's Halloween, it's guaranteed to be dangerous if you let your kids outside today, so make sure to buy candy now and...."
I stand up, leaving the living room and head to the kitchen to get a glass of water to calm my nerves. I still had to work the night shift today. The haunted house was the only place hiring college students in this small town, and I was positive that my uptight manager would fire me if I didn't clock in- killer or no killer.
I checked my watch. Shit. I had to be there in ten. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in my stomach, I grabbed my keys and left the house, slamming the door in a rush.
Despite it being Halloween evening, the haunted house was emptier than it had been this entire October, which makes sense, given the brutal and violent killer lurking within the 7,280 people in this town. The thought made me nauseous. There were still a couple teenagers here, though. I did my best to entertainingly scare them, but I don't think my low pigtails and clown makeup really scare anyone. The costume made me look like a child. A frilly white skirt and tights, matched with a striped pink and white long sleeve that was too small on me. I felt like...well, a clown.
Nobody was here now except a couple of my coworkers talking in hushed tones up front. I grabbed my phone, and scrolled through notifications, bored. My manager, my dad, my old high school friend... and an unknown number. I tapped on it casually.
unknown number: you're gonna die tonight
My phone dropped from my hand.
I grabbed it immediately, my heart hammering in my ribcage. I quickly tapped my fingers on the keyboard.
me: who is this??? is this a prank?
A few seconds after I sent the message, I watched the text change from "delivered" to "read". Text bubbles showed up and my breathing stopped.
unknown number: you'll be the prettiest dead girl
unknown number: i'm gonna taste your blood
I reread the last message. My body was frozen. I think someone was calling my name. I just kept staring at it.
unknown number: respond to me
unknown number: dumb bitch.
I stared at the messages for a minute, speechless. I could hear my coworker calling from afar for me to get back into character, but I couldn't stop staring at my phone.
unknown number: oh i'll make this so much worse for you
unknown number: i'm going to rip your insides open
That did it for me. I bolted to the restroom and dialed 911, grabbing the wall for support as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. Finally, there was a click. I sighed a breath of relief. "Hello!?"
"Nobody's saving you from this." The low voice, dark and furious, sent sudden chills down my spine.
A soft chuckle emanated from the phone.
The call ended, and I stared at the screen. Oh my god. Oh my god.
BOOM BOOM BOOM. I let out a terrified scream. Something was hitting the bathroom door. I was gonna die. Here. Now.
"Get the fuck out! We have a line of people waiting to enter and you aren't here!" It was my manager's voice- he was hitting the door. I gasped, so thankful I could cry. I tentatively stood up and opened the door.
His face was red with anger, scrunched up and ugly. He jabbed a finger on my shoulder. "You take one more break tonight, and I'll fire your ass." I nodded silently, controlling my breathing. I just couldn't think about it. Those messages. Maybe it's just a prank. If it's just a prank, I'd regret leaving and getting fired. Yes, I just need to get through tonight. Just get through tonight.
It was 9pm, and I was still scared shitless. I knew what to do. Go to the police as soon as possible, and stay at the station until I knew I was no longer in danger. I looked around the house. Halloween music blared, and the place was filled with loud laughter and friendly shrieks. A lot of kids showed up around 8pm, and working helped me forget about the threats, for a little bit of time.
I saw a group of masked teenagers making their way towards me, and I prepared myself to chase them until they left the hallway. (I do not get paid enough for this.)
It wasn't until they were close to me that I saw it.
In a swarm of people with colorful Halloween outfits and masks- oranges, greens, purples- one stood out. The image burned into my memory from earlier.
I let out an audible squeak, widening my eyes.
The man was taller than the rest of the group. He stopped walking, as the group of others advanced to me. I stared at him, unable to move my body. The killer tilted his head, slowly. I dropped my eyes to his hands.
The sharp, gleaming knife in one of them.
I let out a small scream, backing up slowly.
"Woah, is she pretending to be afraid of us?" A teenage boy asked. "That's like, super abstract."
Ghostface started walking forwards, and I whipped around, shrieking as I began to run to the exit.
My feet slammed on the ground as tears slipped down my face. I was going to die. I was going to die.
I was at the final part of the path, feeling my white face paint dripping off my skin from the tears. Click, click. I stared up in confusion at the blinking lights. The LEDs started flickering in orange and purple, blackening the room in random bursts. I was about to turn the corner, when the house went completely dark. I whimpered, still hearing friendly laughs and screams from afar, faintly.
I started running in a random direction, but I couldn't make out the next turn of the deserted hallway. Where was I? I stood still. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. My heavy breaths were the only noise around me.
Click. The purple and orange bright lights flashed on again.
And right in front of me stood the masked killer, holding up a freshly red knife.
I screamed, or attempted to, as his large gloved hand covered my mouth. In a second, he slammed me roughly into the wall, my head hitting the cobweb decorations. His hand pushed into my face hard, and lifted his bloodied knife to my throat, leaning in.
"You don't like following directions, do you?" His voice was low and amused. He grabbed my neck and yanked my head back again, a sharp pain hitting my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, my tears reaching his glove.
"Aww," he muttered, scraping the knife down the side of my face. "Dead girl's crying." HIs breath was heavy under the mask. He was wearing a long black shirt- it hugged his figure, and I registered how much bigger he was in comparison to me. Stronger, taller, with arms twice the size of mine. I wasn't getting out of this alive.
"You've been a bad girl," he continued, his voice lower than before. "Not responding to those texts." The bloody knife pressed down on my neck, hard. I could smell copper and nearly threw up in my mouth.
"Like you have a choice." A dry laugh came from his mask. The knife travelled to the middle of my neck, and I closed my eyes again, a sob escaping my throat. "You think you have a choice? Huh?" He let go of his grip on my mouth and grabbed my hair, jerking my head up to reach his eyeline.
I couldn't say anything. I just shook my head "no" frantically, sobbing shamelessly.
"Yeah," he responded darkly. "That's right, you stupid whore." He dropped the knife to my waist, slowly trailing it down to my hipbone. My crying got louder. I just wanted him to end it already.
"Almost too pretty to waste," he murmured, staring at my hips. I hiccupped, looking at him with delirious confusion. The eyes of the mask met my gaze and he instantly flipped me around, shoving my face into the wall and getting terrifyingly close. I could feel his hips on mine, warm and strong, as he tightly gripped both of my arms with one hand. I cried in protest, which made him slam my body into the wall again. "I love those little noises you're making," he rasped. "I hope you'll sound just like that when my knife's inside of you."
"Please," I whispered. I don't know what I was even asking him for. He probably killed everyone in the house except for me. Maybe I was begging for a quick death.
"Please, what?" His voice sounded cruel, and the area between his hips was starting to feel weirdly hard, but I couldn't focus on anything except the pounding in my head.
"Please...Mr. Ghostface," I said softly, sniffling. I wanted to somehow reason, maybe talk him into letting me go. "I don't wanna die-" my voice broke, and I started sobbing again.
"Aww. Poor baby." His voice was thick with venom. "Maybe you should've responded to those texts then. Fucking cunt," he hissed. His knife pressed deeply into my hip, and I whined. "You think you can get your way? Huh?" Instantly, he slid the knife on my hip, making a thin cut on my skin. "Don't worry, I'll put that pretty body to good use when I'm done with you," he murmured in my ear. I knocked my head back, wincing from the pain of the cut. He let my arms go, and I sunk to the ground, weeping as I curled into a small ball.
"Look at me." He was commanding, and I weakly obliged, blinking tears from my eyes to see him. A strange part of me felt safe as he towered over me, looking down at my small body like predator with prey. It was the end.
A question bubbled from my mouth, before I could stop it. "Did you kill everyone here?"
He tilted his head. Paused. "Only the ones that didn't run."
I looked down at the dripping knife in his hand. The one that was now coated with some of my blood.
"Why me?" My eyes were closing from how tired I was- how much everything hurt. But everything was slower now. I wasn't afraid anymore. Ghostface squatted in front of me. He chuckled lowly while casually twirling the knife. He didn't say anything for a long minute. He just watched me, took in the blood tripping from my hipbone, the redness of my skin, the wet tears on my face.
"What?" I mumble, opening my eyes fully.
He stood up, boots pressing into my thighs, and carefully positioned the tip of the knife under my throat, making me stare up at him. "Beg. I might not kill you if you beg." His body was unmoving, the mask still making him expressionless.
I dropped my eyes, my lip trembling. "Please let me-"
I furrowed my brows. Just a few hours ago, I had dignity. "But-'"
He dug the knife harder into me. "I'll slit your throat right now. I'd like that."
My eyes got watery again, and I think he inhaled at that. I slowly got up to my knees, putting my hands in my lap.
He cocked his head again. "There we go. Good girl." A part of me felt intensely ashamed, but it was this option or a violent death. If I could just run, maybe...
"Please. Let me live." My words were thick in my mouth.
"You made me mad." He grabbed my hair nonchalantly, pulling at my scalp. "Ignoring me. I think you deserve to get hurt for that."
I tried to steady my heart. How do I deal with this psycho?
"You were a bad girl." He paused and jerked my head up again, making me stare at that awful mask. "Say it."
I couldn't hide my physical repulsion to the request. Who asks someone to do that?
A sudden, stinging pain on my cheek. He had slapped me. Hard. "I told you to say it." His voice was growing more irritated.
He was really strong. I couldn't think. Numbly, I whispered, "I was a bad girl."
"Tell me you deserve to be hurt."
I choked on a cry. He hit me across the face again, and felt the knife scrape my jaw. "You should really learn to answer faster, bitch," he taunted, letting the knife drag on the opened flesh.
"I deserve to be hurt," I panted, my entire body shaking.
"You do," he murmured, letting the knife slide away from me as he leaned back. "And how do you think I should hurt you?" There was an underlying meaning to his tone...like he was waiting for something.
The weapon was farther from me now...so was he. His body was off of mine, and there was a gap between us that I could squeeze through. I stared at the exit hallway on our right. There would never be a right time. But now was my only chance. Flushed with adrenaline, I pushed myself off the ground and bolted towards the hallway as fast as I could. My feet hit the floorboards in a rhythm, and I urged my weak body to go faster.
Of course, he knew what I was trying to do. I was his entertainment. He wouldn't let me go. A part of me knew that.
I was halfway there before I felt his grasp on my shoulders, violently forcing me to the ground. I felt a hand close around my throat, choking my neck tightly. I grabbed at the air, and he stabbed the knife in the floorboard, right next to my arm. "Dumb fucking bitch," he gritted through his teeth. I felt him grabbing the flesh of my thigh roughly as he laid on top of me. His muscular body engulfed me. I couldn't move, or breathe...
"So stupid," he laughed breathlessly. His voice turned mean as he slammed my head down on the floor. "You're so fucking stupid." I felt him adjust in a strange way, only to see that he took off his glove, letting his bare hand continue travelling my thigh. "You can't escape me."
My vision got blurry, and he released my neck, letting me take a gasp of air .The glove was shoved in my mouth, and I nearly gagged on it, taking greedy breaths from my nose.
"You chose your punishment, then," he groaned in my ear, scraping his fingernails on my skin as he massaged my ass.
How strange. I almost forgot that this monster was a... man. He was heavy on top of me, tracing the cuts on my body and squeezing so tightly I whimpered at his grasp.
"Can't run away now, slut," he hissed, grabbing my tights and ripping them apart. My body was pinned completely. He pulled down my underwear, making a ragged breathing sound. I heard him let out a small laugh of disbelief.
"God, you fucking whore," Ghostface breathed. "You always get this wet for serial killers?" He shoved two large fingers inside of me, and I let out a cry. It was true. My body was taking him easily, and as he hit a spongey part deep inside of me, I could hear lewd sounds coming from inside me. I shook my head desperately, tears flowing from my eyes. He grabbed the leather glove from my mouth and hurled it to the side, a moan escaping my lips.
"No?" He said, pushing into me with more force. "Sounds like you like it." He went faster, and I covered my mouth, biting back the sounds. He grabbed my wrist and shoved my arm down, pinning it to my side. His breath got faster as he fucked me with his hand, and I felt a horrible, rising sensation in my body. He stopped, as if he knew I was close, taking his hand and putting it on his own body. I felt him press up against me, the hardness of his erection in his sweatpants. I suddenly felt very nervous.
He flipped me over, pulling his shirt off in a way that kept the mask on. "Look at me." His voice was unrecognizable, heavy with lust. "I need to see it hurt you."
A sick, depraved part of me...maybe wanted it too. He was so strong, and warm, and smelled good...if you ignored the blood. Oh god, there was blood on his arms. Splatters of it. People I might've worked with. Teenagers I might've seen.
I punched his chest, grunting with each throw as I tried to shimmy out from under him. But all the humor or amusement he had when he was making me beg for my life seemed to be gone. Saying nothing, he grabbed my hands and kept them on top of my head. It was so terrifying. Staring into the eyes of a mask.
"Don't make me kill you," he seethed, reaching behind us and pulling the knife from the wood. "This'll make you behave, huh?" He held it to my throat, and I stilled my body, my chest heaving from fear.
He pulled down his pants and boxers, his large dick hard, leaking precum. I shifted away, breathing faster. I couldn't take that. Literally, physically, it would tear me apart.
"No, wait. No-" I whimpered. He leaned forward and shoved himself inside of me.
I suddenly remembered what he texted me.
"I'm going to rip your insides open."
I guess that was interpretative.
My cries of pain were matched with his shaky groans as he pushed his cock inside again, hitting a deep part of me. I felt the knife digging into my throat as he grabbed my breast from under the shirt, scratching my skin with his nails. "Fuck, you're so tight," he hissed, his entire body weighing over mine as he started thrusting. His head jerked upwards and I could see the brief outline of a sharp jawline. He slammed his hand down and grabbed my hip, pushing my body onto him. The knife moved on my skin as his thrusts quickened, and he tightened his grip on my hipbone.
"You're so lucky," he grunted. "So lucky you're such a pretty whore. You'd be dead if you weren't so useful." his slams into me got harder, and I screamed.
"Please. It really hurts," I whined. My eyes felt watery, but tearing up hurt my eye sockets at this point.
Ghostface started going faster at those words. "Oh, yeah? It hurts?"
I yelped as our skin smacked, his pace making me feel lightheaded. "Y-yes." I should know not to tell a sadist something hurts. He continued thrusting, relentlessly, stabbing the knife down in the floor again and using both of his hands to bruise my hips as he lifted me and deepened the position.
I wailed, covering my face with my hands.
I shook my head stubbornly, although I knew I felt warm tears leaking down my palms.
"Fucking baby." He grabbed my arms and pinned them again, slowing down. "Cry for me."
I turned my head, trying not to see him. Trying not to show him. With his other hand, he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him, doing that stupid head tilt again. "C'mon, baby. Cry."
My lips trembled and I closed my eyes. A sharp, painful slap on my face. "I told you to fucking cry," he said viciously, and I couldn't take it anymore. A sob broke out, and I felt the tears start rolling down my face uncontrollably. He nodded slowly, a small laugh coming from his mask. "Good girl." "Yeah," he murmured, slamming his hips into mine again. "Good girl."
His hips pistoned inside of me over and over again, as sobs ran my throat sore. He kept staring at my face, at the way I cried, and his thrusts got more sporadic. He dropped onto my body again, groaning in my ear. "I'll keep you for a little longer, dead girl." The cold plastic of the mask touched my cheek as he grabbed onto my waist, quickening the movement of his cock. His breath got quick, the slap of his hips loud and sloppy. "Oh, god," he gasped, speeding up until I saw black spots in the sky. "Fuck, you're such a perfect, fucking whore," he groaned, pushing down on me and moving my entire body to his pleasure. "I'm-" his head jerked back as he slammed into me one last time, moaning lowly.
I took a shaky breath, feeling the warm, oozing sensation inside of me. I was strangely relaxed. I was probably going to die now. He stayed like that for some time, warming me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I stayed still as I felt his body separate from mine, and the sound of fabric rustling.
I felt a gentle hand on my arm. I opened my eyes, and he was fully dressed. He wasn't saying anything.
He made me stand up, and he carefully pulled my tights up. I could still feel his...remains inside of me, making my underwear sticky. I slightly retched. While gripping my arm, he leaned down and grabbed the knife sticking out of the floor. I felt so tired. I think I could hear the sound of police sirens in the background.
I looked at the man in the mask again. He was so tall, and big. He didn't need a knife to kill me. Just his hands. I knew it was time. I wasn't useful to him anymore. Not alive, at least. I stared at the dried up blood on the knife.
He made a small, breathy sound. Like a laugh. "No. Not yet." His voice was like a purr he flipped me again, covering my face with his other hand. "I'm not getting rid of you yet."
Something about the way he covered my mouth and nose made me feel so sleepy. The way his glove smelled like some type of far away cologne. I blinked, slowly, hearing his breathing. Like a lullaby. I closed my eyes completely, letting the darkness take me.
The words echoed in my mind as I lost consciousness.
"I'm not getting rid of you yet."
Hope you guys liked it! Let me know if you guys want a Part 2
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