User @purgratoriat on here (otherwise known as Kleomaceae1962 "Chrismissy" on discord) is a disgusting person and i dont want them to have a platform on here anymore, so i would appreciate if you would reblog this post and heed my warning, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THEM.
Over the course of 2 years, They have been talking and Roleplaying sexual activity with minors. I was 13 when this began, they were 17. They are 19 now, and i, along with 2 other minors, are 15 and 17. I was inspired by them and the fact that they were older than me made me look up to them, i didnt realise what they were doing was wrong.
They claim to have "found it weird" to be roleplaying with a 13 year old but only after the fact that their ex boyfriend was weirded out by such, and even then they suggested "doing it in dms" which didnt put a stop to the behaviour at all.
Around 3 to 4 months later, not long after i'd turn 14, they would create a private server between them and a majority of minors. This server had not safe for work roleplay and regular chats where they would discuss things like CNC (consensual non consent), their fantasies of being sexually abused, etc.
They even went as far as to show pictures of the sex doll they purchased (clothed) to 3 minors (including myself) and other sex toys, also describing what theyd want to do to the doll in great detail.
They are a proshipper who believes that children in fiction are capable of consent. Its disgusting, pedophilic, and something needs to be done.
My account isnt the biggest, but im hoping that maybe ill gain a little bit of traction.
alright so, let’s say donny survives the explosion at le gemarr, albeit at the cost of his legs getting blown off and some pretty nasty burns (along with, y’know, The Traumas). how’s he handle it, you think? the media’d prob’ly swarm him, too, since he’s the man who killed hitler so good it took ‘em a while to identify his remains. but using a baseball bat in a wheelchair can’t be nearly as easy as when he had his legs. he needs his hands on the wheels, after all.
Love this concept. Honestly— it could go a lot of ways. Depending on if Donny was the only survivor of the Basterds. ‘If’ your hinting that he was the only one who made it out, I’d think he’d be more on the down low. He doesn’t feel as if he needs any recognition from it, as the deed is already done. The aggravation he had beforehand when it came to Nazi’s is far more repressed inside when it comes to the public eye. He’s older now, and without the rest of the original Basterds alive, the group is now just a cult following of people who idolize what they once did.
At first, the overwhelming presence of media didn’t bothering him. It would be less about him, bit more about honoring his Allies that did just as much work as he did. Obviously, he still owned the label of killing Hitler, but he didn’t want to be the only Basterd brought into unambiguous news articles and press.
Sorry this is short!
Haha I have a lot more I could think of, and 100% have more of the Basterds were still together after the explosion. I’ll totally make more like this :)
‘zydrate anatomy’ this, 'zydrate anatomy’ that IT’S NOT EVEN THE BEST REPO SONG. ANTHONY STEWART HEAD PUT HIS WHOLE PUSSY INTO LEGAL ASSASSIN AND IT’S ABOUT TIME WE GIVE THAT SONG THE APPRECIATION IT DESERVES
Omg tumblr keeps eating my asks to almost everyone but i hope you get this! Could you write a SFW alphabet for Donny Donowitz x fem or non specific reader? (If you want to obv). I've been practically starving for some Donny fics and i can't even request without it getting eaten😭
I indeed have seen this :) I of course will do this— I need the excuse to write about this man haha and your absolutely right, there’s not enough stuff about Donny online, that’s why I’m here!
Donny Donowitz SFW Alphabet
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) : Donny is naturally affectionate when it comes to the right person, it might come out as blunt at first, but it’s really because he doesn’t want others to perceive him as soft when around you. If your alone with him, he’s going to shower you with as much affection as possible. In big and small.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Donny is the thorn on your hip. You need to go get something? He’s following you. Have a story to tell? He’s all ears. Overall, he’s just attentive and is gonna be there for you, even in that platonic way.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) once again, Donny definitely likes cuddling, but is going to be private about it. Nuzzling his face into your neck from behind as you sleep, wrapping his arms around you, he’s definitely doing it. He really loves you after all, he’ll risk his ‘toughness’ for you :)
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) After a long day of bashing Nazis brains in, Donny only wants to be with you. He doesn’t mind if that time he spends is by cleaning the house, or cooking for you. (Even though he sucks at it)
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)Donny would try his best to be civil about it. Granted, if he’s the one breaking up with you. He’ll make it simple, and straight to the point. He wouldn’t cry, he’d just be physically upset.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Donny isn’t inherently against getting married, he thinks it would be amazing. Though, due to the whole timing of it, he thinks the commitment wouldn’t matter in the end nonetheless. He has a lot on his plate!
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Donny is gentle, only with you. Not like how he talks to Hugo, or anyone for that matter. Surely, if you saw him when he was wielding his baseball bat, and compare that to when you with him, the drastic difference in his tone is jarring.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Donny doesn’t like receiving hugs. He likes giving them. He will sneak up behind you any chance he gets, and practically attacks you from behind in a bear hug. (Get it?)
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Donny never thought he’d live to ever say those three words to someone. The time would have to be right when he’d say it for the first time. It isn’t an ‘I love you’ just for the hell of it, when he says it in those rare moments, he means it.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Boy oh boy.. This man gets jealous very quickly. The fact that he’s very observant, he will be sure to catch when somebody else is glancing at you in the wrong way, or just a way the irks him. But don’t worry! He’ll have a little.. ‘talk’ with them.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) When in public, his kisses are tiny. Just a small peck on the cheek or neck, along with a witty joke. When alone, he likes to be much more thorough with it. Long, and meaningful. Make-out sessions are his favorite. He particularly likes to be kissed by you on his chest. He doesn’t know why, he just does.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?) He thinks they are loud. He can deal with them, just don’t put him with any when he’s worked up. He’s a volcano ready to rupture.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) He’s definitely grumpy. How much sleep do you even get during war? Probably not much. Grumbling to himself about another night of insomnia is likely. Get him his coffee, and rub his back and he’ll be just fine.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Depending on the night, he definitely swings between moods. Some days he’ll be rushing with adrenaline, wondering what to do next. He probably will insist on something, and your probably gonna have no other choice but to satisfy him. Other nights, he’s just going to want to be cuddled up next to you, listening to vinyl in the best intimate way possible. No words need to be spoken then.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Donny, when worked up, will overshare things. It tends to be something embarrassing, and he’ll beat himself up over it afterwards. When he’s actually intimate with you, he’ll open up to things about himself that he’d never tell ANYONE.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) He will get angry quick. So be careful. Those small things that he notices, they will slowly bring him into this bizarre, crazed decent. That’s the bat wielding guy we all know and love! Just allow him to let it out on some guy.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) He’s going to remember anything. What you wore on a certain day, what your favorite color is, your favorite film, small things that he can use to his advantage when it comes to giving gifts and affection.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) The night you two went to the cinema together. It was to see his favorite movie, and he couldn’t shut up about it the whole time. He knew everything, and I mean everything about this movie. His constant removing made a man from behind you two harshly kick the back of Donny’s seat. You two make jokes about it to this day.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He’s going to do anything to keep you safe. Even if your helping him in his work, he’s gonna make sure your safe, your his first priority.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) He’s going all out, to the best of his ability. He knows everything you like, so he’s getting you something he KNOWS you want.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Donny bites the skin around his fingers when anxious, and grits his teeth when in awkward situations.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Donny doesn’t care to much about himself when it comes to looks. Sure, he’ll do his hair nice if he needs to, but he does not mind. He’s gonna get bloodied up anyway.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)He’d be more confused. He can’t put a finger on what it is, but he surely just.. doesn’t feel right.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Donny’s favorite animal is ducks!! Also I feel like he reads a lot of books, I truly don’t know why, I feel like he does. And he likes to infodumping about them. He also suffers from major insomnia :(
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) If you don’t care about what he’s talking about, he won’t give any mind to what your talking about towards him.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Hes going to steal the blanket, and tool to the other side of the bed. Good luck getting some of the blanket, because he sleeps like a rock when he ‘can’ fall asleep.
Okay that’s all! I loved writing this, Donny is the best :)
poly!ghostface romickey x fem!reader nsfw! minors dni
warnings: extremely dub-con
Despite Roman’s worries, the studio was still open, negotiations were being made with the writers, and production on the movie was still going forward, albeit slowly. The only consequences so far seem to be increased security and longer hours. While you were sad to have even less time with your boyfriends, you were at least content that they were safer now. Measures were finally being taken to prevent any more unexplained disappearances. You were no closer to finding out who the killers actually were, but you had done all you could for the moment, given your limited resources.
Another downside, however, was Roman’s perpetual black mood. You knew he was already stressed on a good day, and this situation had only worsened the load. Even Mickey had been more sullen than you could ever recall. You weren’t sure if keeping the studio open was a blessing or a curse anymore. They still had their jobs, but at this point, that seemed to be all they had. Mickey had been making calls almost every other day, informing you that they’d be staying late. So it came as no surprise when he called you today to give you the same bad news. You sighed, hearing Roman yelling in the background.
You sat on the couch, flipping through channels mindlessly, when you heard your phone ring. You stared at it for a moment, a feeling of trepidation rising in you. You weren’t someone who spooked easily, even given the less-than-pleasant phone calls you had received from the killers recently. Maybe it was the general tension in the atmosphere over the past week. The whole house felt colder and lonelier than usual. Every time the phone rang when you were alone lately, you felt that frisson of fear until the voice of one of your boyfriends came on the line and soothed it away. You saw the "Unknown" flash at you, and still you prayed that it would be Mickey’s voice again, or even Roman’s. Even if he was mad.
You hesitated a moment, but pressed the accept button and held the phone up to your ear.
"Who is it?" You asked instead of the customary ‘hello’.
"Someone close to you," the voice answered, and the frisson of fear intensified.
"Close in what way?" you asked back, looking around you. With only the TV and one lamp on and all the curtains drawn closed, there was very little light for you to see. Every shadow seemed deeper and darker now as your eyes studied them.
"That’s the question, isn’t it?" the voice replied, sounding vaguely amused. "Let’s play a game. If you can guess who I am or where I am, I’ll hang up and leave you alone."
"What about your partner?" you asked as you walked over to turn on another lamp. You’d feel better if you could actually reach the light switch, but this would have to do.
"He doesn’t really like playing games," the voice stated, sounding somehow more sinister.
"Then what’s the point?" You hiss, your frayed nerves shortening your patience.
"You might have a better chance against just one of us," the voice almost seemed to tease.
"I have enough bullets for both of you," you spat, and you hung up. You pulled a gun out of your pocket and reached for another under the couch. You liked to keep at least one weapon in every room, and ever since you’d started working on this case, you made sure they were easy to access. You’d also taken to keeping your gun on or near you at all times, at least while you were alone in the house. Maybe you were paranoid, but it was better than being defenseless.
You heard a noise, and your head snapped in the direction it came from, straining your ears to listen for more sounds. They were likely already in the house. Your heart was beating like a drum, but you were ready. This wasn’t even the first home invasion you’d dealt with. You turned your head to look toward the foyer when your phone rang. You ignored it, letting it ring, and the noise was just enough to cover up the footsteps coming towards you from the other side. Luckily, you turned your head in time to see them come through the doorway, and you quickly aimed your gun. The ringing stopped abruptly, and suddenly there was another figure on the other side of the room. You pointed your other gun that way, looking between both masked men.
"You can take off those masks, or I can take them off for you," you said with forced calm.
Shooting two guns at once was not nearly as easy as it looked on TV. Even the most skilled shooters would be hard-pressed to aim correctly at one moving target, much less two. There was no time for focus or finesse; you just had to shoot and hope for the best. At least a few shots missed; one barely grazed one of the killers in the arm. Before you knew it, your bullets had run out, and both killers were laid out on the floor. You moved around the couch, still aiming your guns, though by this point they were little more than props. One was already sitting up, and you froze, aiming both guns uselessly.
"We’re not high schoolers, y/n," your Chief’s voice said.
You backed up as you saw the other killer stir next.
"Did you really think we wouldn’t come prepared?" He continued, and he pulled the dark robe open just enough for you to glimpse a bulletproof vest underneath.
"I’ve got a lot more bullets," you replied easily, though you knew getting to them would pose a big problem.
"12 rounds," your partner’s voice chided. "You’re all out."
"Fuck you," you replied, and you threw one of your guns at his face. You made a break for it, running out through one of the doorways. If you could get to your office, you could get your semi-automatic.
You heard scrambling and footsteps chasing after you. You managed to make it into the room, but just as you tried to slam the door shut, an arm came through, and a knife nicked your arm. You pushed the door on their arm, forcing them to pull back, and managed to slam it shut and turn the lock. You ran to your desk, pulling open drawers to find your semi. You were loading it with shaking, sweaty hands when the door came flying open by force, and both killers stood across from you. You had no time to finish loading, so you grabbed the lamp beside you and tossed it, hitting one of them squarely in the head. They went down, and the other dove at you with an inhuman growl, their knife poised above their head, ready to strike. You moved just enough that their knife missed you, but they threw their other arm out, backhanding you hard. You stumbled to the side, nearly tripping over the chair. As you tried to steady yourself, the killer rammed the handle of their blade into the side of your head, and your eyes rolled up as you dropped to the floor.
When you came to, you immediately noticed a pair of cuffs restraining your wrists in front of you. You were being pulled uncomfortably by your arms, and you resisted, trying to drag your feet. One of the killers grabbed your hair, and you gritted your teeth to keep from voicing your pain, but you were forced to stop resisting. You were tossed on your bed, landing on your front and unable to turn over.
"You need to put cuffs on me." You spit, frustrated. "Two against one and—" you broke off as you were being yanked by your hair again and flipped on your back.
"You’re all talk, just as expected." The cold voice was back, and a knife was shoved right up to your neck, almost breaking the skin. "12 bullets and not one good hit."
"She must have slept her way through the academy," the other killer said on your other side, their knife snaking down your chest.
"Funny, because you’re talking a bit too much too," you said, and you kicked out with your legs, dislodging one of them and then sitting up and headbutting the next. Your mind was entirely focused on evasion and escape as you tried to scoot off the bed. But of course you were quickly pushed back down, and this time the knife being placed at your neck was pushing in and drawing blood. You froze up, your breath catching and your eyes staring wide at the black holes of the mask as it bared down on you.
"Try that again, and this knife is going right down your throat next," the voice said menacingly.
The other killer was ripping your shirt open with his own knife and then tearing through your bra next. You gasped, careful not to move and have the knife point go any deeper.
"All you had to do was sit pretty at home, maybe let your little boyfriends fuck you every once in a while, and keep your nose out of things." There was a click, and then..."But you couldn’t even do that right," Roman’s voice said.
You went so still, your heart skipping in your chest, that you thought you might pass out again and never wake up.
"What’s the matter, y/n? Don't you like this voice?"
"Oh, I think she does." Mickey’s voice rings out next, and you look at him as if trying to pierce through the mask with your gaze. The knife is cutting through your shorts and then your panties next, and they’re torn off.
"Don’t," you plead in a low voice.
Gloved fingers pry your legs apart and plunge into you. You wanted to clamp your legs shut, but that would only trap his fingers inside you. You cried out as they moved quickly in and out, and you heard the voice chuckle in Mickey’s voice.
"At the mercy of two killers, and you’re still wet," Roman’s voice tsked, and you felt tears sting your eyes as shame burned hot through you.
"Are you gonna be a good slut for us now?" Mickey asked, his fingers curling inside you and drawing out an involuntary moan.
"Answer him," Roman’s voice barked at you, and it sounded so painfully real that you felt yourself flinch.
"Yes. I-I’ll be good," you said, hating the resignation you heard in your own voice.
"You can start by putting that mouth to better use," Roman indicated as Mickey moved near your head. You saw him struggle momentarily with his long robe as Roman removed the blade from your neck and positioned your head better.
You realized you were already thinking of these killers as your boyfriends, and you hated yourself for it. They’d managed to taint your partner and your chief, now the two most important people in your life. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get past this, assuming you lived through this encounter at all. The killer impersonating Mickey touched his tip to your lips, and you flinched away on instinct, but then his left hand was gripping your chin and squeezing hard enough to force your mouth open so he could slide in. You glared ineffectually, though the killer’s head was tilted back as if in bliss.
The other killer, whom you tried hard not to think of as Roman, slid inside you so easily that it felt eerily familiar and uncomfortable all at once. You felt like your senses were betraying you completely. Your body was accepting this as though it were not just expected but welcomed. The hand on your chin moved down to your chest to grope roughly at your tits. Your hands flexed between you and the other killer, who held himself above you as he thrust inside you. Your arms were feeling painfully cramped, but it was dull compared to the pleasure in the rest of your body.
You felt the body above yours go taut, and the groan they let out let you know they had come, but it was only now that you realized they must have worn protection when you didn’t feel them spill inside you. They swapped places, except you now had a hand wrapped around your throat, making it harder to draw breath than it already was. The killer seemed to be staring down at you, and you tried to close your eyes to avoid having to look at that freakish mask. But another hand slapped you lightly, demanding you look at him while he fucked your mouth. The killer between your legs was playing with your clit with skilled fingers, and your brain was chanting Mickey’s name even though you tried to stamp that thought down. You shouldn’t be drawing these comparisons. It felt like a betrayal to them. Still, the stimulation made you shake, come, and moan around the dick in your mouth. This time you felt the killer spurt his release on your tongue, and there was nowhere else for it to go, so you swallowed as you felt Roman massage your throat to help you. Moments later, water was forced past your lips, washing away any trace left behind.
No DNA left behind would make a rape kit useless. As you spluttered, coughing up a bit of water, they moved around you again. Your hands were freed, and your arms went limp by your side, trying to soothe the ache. You weren’t sure who was leaning over you now, pressing their cold mask right up against your warm cheek. "Who will look for you when you’re the one who disappears?" The voice changed mercifully back to that indistinguishable tone. You felt a knife tip press against your side and then plunge into you. The killer sighed along with you as your pain escaped through your lips in a silent gasp. You felt the killers looking at you, though your own eyes were shut as you curled in on yourself and clutched at your bleeding wound.
You weren’t aware of anything around you; your only focus was on the pain radiating from your side. You had to get to the hospital. When you looked around, it was dark, empty, and oppressively silent. You pressed your ripped shirt to your wound and limped around to reach a phone. When the call was over, you struggled to keep your eyes open, despite the strength feeling like it was seeping out of you with every intake of breath.
You weren’t sure what you were going to do when you got called back in to work. Your injury gave you a little more time to think about it, but more time didn’t help you make up your mind. You could ask for a transfer. A desk job to keep you busy and out of the way
You sat silently, alone in the office. Your boyfriends had taken a few days off, although you tried to convince them it wasn’t necessary. You’d nearly begged them not to. They had insisted. And now you were shut away from them anyway, trying to pretend they weren’t there. There was a throb in your side, and you winced slightly. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t meant to kill you. You could call it a miscalculated strike, but you knew better. The cut in Mickey’s hairline was explained away as an incident involving one of the microphones on set. The bandage on Roman’s arm is usually kept out of sight by the sleeves of his shirts. You didn’t ask and he didn't explain.
Your Chief's voice. Your partner's. The bulletproof vests. How they were able to sneak around so efficiently and the fact no one wanted to touch the case. Your partner was the only one you'd told about your boyfriends, which the killer had also known about. You were supposed to think it was them. And you almost had. Against every instinct you had almost convinced yourself.
You lay completely still between Mickey and Roman as they slept beside you. Roman was always very mindful of your space, but Mickey tended to latch onto whoever happened to be beside him. You were uncomfortable, but you didn’t move a muscle. Only exhaustion finally pulled your eyelids closed, plunging you into a restless sleep.
They were much gentler than they’d ever been before. Even with each other. Roman checked Mickey’s injury, and Mickey checked yours with a delicate hand. His left. And you had to force yourself not to shrink away from the touch. When you could remember, you weren’t supposed to. That shying away from their touch wasn’t normal for you. Even though you were finding it increasingly difficult to define what was normal for you anymore.
You weren’t keeping up with the case through the news. You didn’t take any calls. You didn’t ask Mickey or Roman how things were going on set, and even if they told you, you weren’t really listening. You had wanted so much to be involved, to find out more, to work on this case, and to see it through all the way to its end. You had wanted to get into the killer’s mind, and now you were there. And they were in your mind too. You wished you were as bad at your job as they thought, so maybe you wouldn’t have it all figured out and you could pretend you didn’t know what you should do about it.
Mickey popped in ‘Enemy of the State,' and you were back in the middle of the couch, all the while Mickey’s hand twisted the ends of your hair as he draped his arm around your shoulders and Roman’s hand rubbed comforting circles on your thigh. You tried to immerse yourself in the movie completely, tensing imperceptibly when Mickey parroted the scene playing.
Brill: Do they know me?
Robert Clayton Dean: Who's them?
Brill: Do they know me?!
Robert Clayton Dean : I don't know what you're talking about!
Brill : You're either very smart... or incredibly stupid.
i was watching mickey edits on tiktok and then i saw a few with roman and someone called them romickey in the tags so i decided to make it my whole personality for a while.
feel free to @ me in the comments or in my ask box.
You blended in silently, mostly observing the people and activities around you. As far as you could tell, everyone seemed hard at work or was putting on a good show of appearing that way. Roman’s gaze was sharper than your own, scrutinizing every tiny detail of his actors. Mickey was lounging beside him, much more relaxed, and as he caught your eye, he gave you a wink. You shot him a half smile and turned to continue walking among the various cast and crew members milling about. You couldn’t be sure if the killer was here, hiding in plain sight, or lurking in some darkened corner, ready to jump out and claim their next victim. It was entirely possible they weren’t there at all. And if there were two of them, you definitely hoped that was the case.
Right now, you were merely scouting. A flash of your badge got you access to any room or trailer you wanted, and you were going to take advantage of that. You weren’t supposed to be here at all, especially not on official police business, but no one had to know about that. You knocked on one trailer after another and let yourself in, doing a sweep through to see if you couldn’t find anything out of place. Most of these people were likely innocent and, in fact, probably clueless as to just what was even going on, but you had to be thorough. You didn’t particularly like taking such liberties with your power, but if it meant bringing you closer to solving this case, that was ultimately the most important thing.
There was no lunch break, per se; the director called ‘cut’ and decided who could leave, when, and for how long. It was well past after noon when you noticed people starting to disperse. You looked for Roman and Mickey but couldn’t find them in the crowd, and suddenly your heart was pumping hard enough to knock against your chest. You felt for the gun at your hip; your clammy hand felt colder than the dark steel, and the touch barely gave you the comfort it usually did. You walked quickly, passing people and trailers until you found the one labeled "BRIDGER". You didn’t even stop to smile at the "ALTIERI +" you were sure Mickey had tacked on above it.
You nearly flung yourself through the door, stopping dead in your tracks at the sight. You felt relief wash over you as well as slight irritation. They weren’t doing anything wrong, really; you were just feeling oversuspicious and not seeing them had nearly sent you into panic mode. You closed the door quietly, still watching, arms crossed, head tilted to the side. They seemed completely engrossed in each other, but you caught Mickey’s gaze, and you could see him grin against Roman’s lips. He had a hand moving behind Roman’s belt, and you could hear Roman moan quietly into the kiss.
"Do you guys actually get any work done here?" you asked, smirking at Roman as he turned to look at you, his glasses half askew. "Or do you literally screw around all day?"
Mickey grinned wide, showing teeth, his hand not faltering in the least. "We might get more done if we did screw. Roman here struts around all day with a stick up his ass when what he really needs is—"
"Finish that sentence, and I’ll stick your own foot up your ass," Roman said, adjusting his glasses.
"So violent!" Mickey said mock dramatically, the hand in Roman’s pants moving faster. Roman grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him into another more savage kiss. He pulled away after a few moments and turned to you.
"Come here, y/n."
You moved a bit, responding to Roman’s command as if on autopilot. But you only took a few steps before stopping again. "I’m supposed to be investigating," you pointed out. "How are you even this horny when there’s a potential mass murderer on the loose?"
"That just makes us hornier." Mickey grinned wolfishly at you, pulling his hand out of Roman’s pants unceremoniously and tugging his shirt over his head. Roman was unbuttoning his own shirt when Mickey grabbed it and pulled, causing a few buttons to go flying in various directions.
"What the FUCK, Mickey?!" Roman cursed, looking down at his ruined shirt.
"You have 50 identical shirts." Mickey shrugged, smiling unapologetically.
You laughed out loud but made quick work of your own shirt to avoid Mickey trying the same thing with you. You joined them, smirking as Mickey’s eyes went straight to your bare chest. "I knew you weren’t wearing a bra," he purred, pulling you to him. He leaned down to kiss you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth. He pulled away as he felt Roman tug at you, and you were easily swept into another kiss against Roman’s fuller lips. You fiddled with his belt, pulling it off and lowering his pants, even as you felt Mickey’s hands reaching for your own pants.
"Don’t rip them!" You warned him, and he snickered but complied, being careful not to cause any damage. "Do we even have enough time?" you asked belatedly, pulling your panties off next.
"No one’s gonna come looking for him," Mickey said, jabbing at Roman with a thumb.
"We have about an hour," Roman said, scowling at Mickey. He set his glasses aside and pulled you in again, hoisting you up easily. You wrapped your arms around him, and he tugged your legs around his hips. You moaned throatily when you felt him position himself and let you slide down on him. You looked behind you, trying to see what Mickey was doing, and then felt him crowd behind you, his chest touching your back as he positioned himself next.
"Fuck, M-Mickey!" you choked, feeling almost painfully full. You hissed as they began to move, and it felt strange at first as they tried to establish a rhythm. When they found it, they worked flawlessly together. Your head fell against Mickey’s shoulder, writhing helplessly between them. Roman’s hands smoothed down your back, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. His hands kneaded your cheeks, spreading them a bit more for Mickey. Meanwhile, Mickey’s hands closed around your tits, fondling them. You bit your lip, trying not to scream out your pleasure, especially when one of Mickey’s hands lowered to your pussy. His fingers flicked your clit, and you were nearly shaking apart from the pleasure. He chucked lowly next to your ear, tormenting you with his fingers. A moan escaped your lips as they pressed in even closer together, sandwiching you between them as they kissed.
"Fuck, oh my god," you whined desperately. Your nails dug into Roman’s back, and you buried your face in his shoulder, trying to muffle your shouts against it as they increased their pace, hammering inside you. "I’m gonna cum!" you cried pitifully, basically drooling against his sweaty skin. You bit down on his shoulder, and you heard him hiss a bit, but he only pounded you harder for it. Mickey’s hand rubbed between your legs harder, and you screamed as you came, ecstasy exploding through your body. Your eyes were screwed shut, your teeth digging lightly into Roman’s shoulder. One of his hands fisted your hair, right on the edge of pain, as you felt him come next. Mickey’s hands fondled your tits again, rougher this time as he came last.
You stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard together. Then they pulled out slowly, letting you down gently. You could barely stand on your own, feeling yourself lean against Mickey. You grimaced a bit, feeling their come leaking out of you. Roman handed you your underwear, and you used them to clean up a little. The three of you walked a few steps to the cool leather couch and collapsed on it. You had no concept of time, feeling overheated and exhausted. You felt like you might fall asleep until you felt Roman move. He placed a kiss on your cheek before getting up. Mickey placed a kiss on your lips, his hand teasing you again, before Roman batted his hand away.
"Fuck time’s over. Hurry up and get dressed," he said sternly.
Mickey rolled his eyes as he looked at you, and you smiled tiredly. He got up, following Roman, and hugged him from behind, rubbing against him suggestively. Roman pulled out of his grip and barked, "Not now, Mick!"
You giggled as Mickey grinned at you and shrugged, pulling his clothes back on. Roman was carefully buttoning a fresh shirt, glaring at Mickey for having ruined his old one. He smoothed his hair and checked his appearance in a mirror, making sure nothing was out of place. Mickey only gave himself a cursory glance over Roman’s shoulder and turned to walk away. He leaned over you to kiss you again, pinching your tit lightly before going out the door. Roman brought your clothes over, leaving them next to you. He gave you a quick kiss on your lips and followed Mickey out.
You’re not sure how long you lay there, using your clothes as a makeshift pillow. You were relaxed, your mind thankfully blank from all your previous worries. The stress in your limbs bled away with the pleasure. When your phone rang.
You ignored it for a while, but the insistent ringing wouldn’t stop, and you eventually moved, rifling through your clothes, searching lazily for it. As your hand closed around it, you answered, forgetting to check the caller ID. Your chief’s voice sounded through the speaker, and you felt a tiny bit of apprehension creep back in.
"Y/N? Are you there?" His voice was muffled as you pressed the phone to your cheek and sighed.
"Yeah, sorry, what’s up?" you asked.
"I'm just checking up on my best detective," he flattered. "How's your time off?"
"Good. I think maybe a week off was a good idea after all. I’m ready to come back in to work, though," you said hopefully, crossing your fingers as an afterthought.
"I’m not so sure about that," he said doubtfully. "You look tired."
You faltered, your breath catching in your throat. "What?" you croaked.
"You sound tired," he replied, sounding concerned.
"Oh...um," you swallowed, your heart doing backflips in your chest. "I just had a long night," you said, clearing your throat. You heard shuffling and then your partner’s voice.
"I bet," he chuckled.
You felt your hackles rise a bit.
"What’s up? Why’d you guys call me?" You asked again, your eyebrows furrowing.
"Just making sure you’re taking it easy and getting some much-needed rest," he answered, sounding oddly sly.
"I am. I just finished exercising. Now I think I’m going to take a nap," you lied, feeling annoyed at their meddling.
"Yeah, a nap is probably a good idea," and this time his voice transitioned smoothly into that creepy tone you came to dread. "Better for your health than chasing ghosts..."
You barely contained a gasp; every cell in your body freezing up. Your hand shook a tiny bit, holding the phone unsteadily next to your ear. "You..." you whispered. Your eyes darted around, and your other hand pulled your blouse closed, trying awkwardly to button it with one hand. "Where are you?" you questioned, your eyes darting around the room uselessly. There was no way they were there, but your mind was still buzzing with anxiety and paranoia.
"Closer than you think," the voice taunted.
You hastily put on your pants, not bothering with zipping them, as you crept close to one of the windows and moved the curtain just enough to peek out. You saw a ton of people, but none that stood out. You wished you could see the set to make sure Mickey and Roman were safe, but it was well out of view from here.
"Why don’t you come out? Or are you too afraid to face me? Easier to target a bunch of armature actors, huh? You probably jump out from behind them too, like a fucking pussy," you spat, glaring as you scanned the crowd outside harder.
"I guess I should pick on someone my own size," the voice said easily. "Like one of those boyfriends of yours."
You felt your heart stutter, and you moved away from the window again. No one knew. No one was supposed to know. No one except...you shook your head, slumping against the wall. "I don’t have a boyfriend," you said, trying to inject as much confidence into your voice as you could.
"Then who were those two guys I watched fuck you?" the voice asked, sending chills through you. Your eyes darted around the room again, and now you swept through it, running your hand over every surface and trying to squint into every crevice, looking for a camera or some sort of listening device. "You put on quite a show," a cruel laugh. "And here I thought you were such a good girl," he mocked. "Turns out you’re actually a little slut," the voice turned sharp. "You handle cocks better than your gun."
"Fuck you, you fucking creep!" you snapped. "I fucking dare you to crawl out of whatever hole you’re hiding in and face me like a fucking man. Stop using that fake voice, take off your goofy mask, and let’s talk face-to-face," you challenged brazenly. Emotions of shame, anger, and fear mixing with extreme adrenaline. "We’ll see how good I am with my gun," and as you said it, you snatched it up, gripping it in your right hand.
The voice laughed again, making you clench the phone tight enough to make you wonder if it might actually snap in your grip. "We might just take you up on your offer. Soon."
"We?" You sneered and barked out a laugh. "Can’t hack it on your own?"
"Oh, one of us is more than enough to kill you. But one dick just wouldn’t be enough for a whore like you, would it?" The voice sneered back maliciously.
"You fucking low-life rat!" you hissed, trying to stop your voice from shaking. As furious as you felt, your heart rate was also spiking, flooding your system with panic and fright.
"See you soon, y/n."
The line went dead, and you walked over to the couch, tossing your phone aside and running a hand through your hair. Within moments, the door was swinging open, and your head snapped up, your hand instantly pointing the gun, safety off.
Hey I just read your Poly!Romickey and I was wondering if you’d be able to write them again with a a reader who is a detective working on their ghost face cases, and she asks them for advice to get into the mind of the killer (not knowing that her boyfriends are the killers) 💗💗💗
missing at sunrise studios
poly!ghostface romickey x fem!reader (though anyone can read)
You sighed quietly, jostled a bit between the two men on either side of you. Roman had his right arm around your shoulders, and Mickey’s left hand was fidgeting with one of your hands in his lap. You weren’t paying attention to what they were saying; you were only aware of the inflection of their voices as they argued about the movie you were watching. The movie itself may as well not have been playing; your mind was miles away.
You felt a little bit guilty; it was a rare evening that the three of you could actually sit like this and enjoy a movie together. Roman was on set at all hours of the day and night, overseeing everything to an almost fanatical level of perfectionism. And ever since Mickey had (in his own words) "slept his way to the top" and been assigned as Director of Photography, he was there just as much. Up until recently, you’d had a full schedule yourself, until the Chief decided you needed a few weeks off. You gritted your teeth at the thought.
There wasn’t much you could do from home except worry about your two boyfriends and jump at every shadow, gun drawn, just in case. There were weird things going on at that studio. People walking off set and never returning. Some seemingly disappearing from their trailers. Harassing phone calls, all with that creepy voice modulator disguising the caller’s real voice. You’d gotten such a phone call yourself, in your partner’s voice, warning you to drop the investigation unless you wanted to be added to the list of missing persons.
You clenched your hands, and you felt Mickey nudge you a bit, but you were too deeply entrenched in your own thoughts. It was a massive violation for them to have used your partner’s voice to intimidate you in that way. Your partner, who you shared your life with almost as much as your boyfriends, the person you were required to trust and rely on the most. And even though you knew it wasn’t truly his voice speaking to you, trying to frighten you and weaken your trust in him, you felt it work just the tiniest bit. Your partner’s voice was somewhere in a dark corner of your mind, taunting you, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to disassociate it from the killer.
"She’s catatonic," Mickey said, waving a hand in front of your face until you snapped to attention.
"What?" You asked, looking between him and Roman now.
"She’s fine," Roman replied, "the movie’s just boring. I’m falling asleep myself."
"You picked the movie," Mickey pointed his finger at him accusingly.
"At your recommendation," Roman defended. "That’s what I get for listening to you."
"You bitch about every movie unless it’s some lame poduction you worked on yourself," Mickey said with a look of disdain.
"At least I’ve worked on productions," Roman replied contemptuously.
"You guys always do this," you interjected before Mickey could answer. "You could just flirt like normal people instead of instigating fights all the time, you know."
"It’s more fun this way," Mickey smirked, to which you and Roman snorted.
───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───
You peeled the sheet away and crawled slowly out of bed, trying not to disturb either of the men sleeping beside you. When you stood up, you turned to make sure neither of them were awake. Mickey moved into your spot, probably seeking warmth, and then attached himself to Roman. You gave a half-smile before slipping out of the room. Despite everything, your mind was still on the case. Until actual bodies were found, the studio wasn’t going to be shut down, and that meant the show would have to go on. Mickey and Roman didn’t seem too concerned, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned enough for the both of them.
You sat down at your desk, flicking the small lamp on, and flipped open the case file. There wasn’t much info to go on, as there wasn’t much evidence gathered yet. It was unlike the killer to not leave any mutilated bodies behind, but you figured that was done purposely. Maybe whoever it was, or whoever they were, had a reason to want the studio to stay open and operational.
You barely suppressed a yawn, booting up the computer to look up old cases and see if you could glean anything from them. You looked up, startled, when you heard footsteps behind you. Roman ran a hand down your back soothingly. "Sorry, I thought you heard me." You shook your head, eyebrows a bit furrowed. He hadn’t made the faintest sound until he was already behind you. "What are you reading?" he questioned, squinting at the bright screen.
Mickey walked in next, announcing his presence by stubbing his toe and hissing in pain. You smothered a laugh behind your palm as he limped towards you. He was wearing Roman’s glasses, which Roman promptly removed and placed on his own face. "Are we going for round two in here?" Mickey asked. "I always wanted to try out the desk."
"We’re not screwing on the desk." Roman shut that down immediately, leaning closer to you to read the text on the screen.
"Not tonight at least," you tacked on, sharing a grin with Mickey.
"Ghostface?" Roman mumbled, straightening back up. "Why are you reading about this right now?"
"Just looking for... I don’t know; clues maybe? Patterns? Something. No one at the precinct's taking this case seriously," you sighed, frustrated. "More people have gone missing from that studio of yours than the Bermuda Triangle," you said sarcastically.
"No one’s gone missing," Roman stated matter-of-factly. "I mean, 2 or 3 extras maybe, who probably took a few of our props with them, by the way."
"They’re probably auctioning that stuff on eBay right now," Mickey agreed.
"More like 4 or 5. One of which was a Security Guard. And even if they’re just ‘extras', they’re still people. People who can’t sell things online because they’re missing," you emphasized.
"There’s no Ghostface killer running around MY set," Roman insisted, hands on his hips.
"I got a call!" You all but yelled. "The sick freak called me using my partner’s voice."
"What did they say?" Mickey asked.
"Told me to drop the case unless I want to go missing too," you said with a slight eye roll.
"Well...what if it really was your partner?" Mickey insinuated.
"He would never say something like that, least of all to me," you said firmly, though that same tiny part of your brain whispered Mickey’s words insidiously. You shook it off, sighing again. "And now I need to figure out who did say it. But I’ve got nothing to go on here except old police reports and Gale Weathers' books. I need to get in the killer’s head somehow."
"I think it would be better if you got in my pants," Mickey said suggestively.
"I’m being serious, Mickey."
"So was he," Roman deadpanned.
"C’mon, let’s at least take this seriously in bed," Mickey cajoled, trying to haul you up from your chair.
You let yourself be pulled up and led away from the desk, with Roman following behind you both. You were situated in the middle of the bed again, and as Mickey and Roman joined you, you sat up. "I’m never going to get to sleep if I don’t make at least some progress."
Mickey groaned, and you were surprised when you felt a hand weave in your hair and tug you down. Roman leaned over you, his hand holding you in place. "We’ll talk in the morning. Now sleep," he commanded.
"You made him mad," Mickey taunted.
"Shut the fuck up, Mick," Roman said.
"He’s a real potty mouth when he’s upset. Runs in the family," Mickey said conspiratorially.
Roman made a quiet sound in his throat, almost like a growl, and his hand left your hair before he was moving over you to get to Mickey.
───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───
You took the warm cup Roman handed you and sipped the liquid calmly. Mickey had a poptart hanging out of his mouth as he joined you at the table, setting down a plate with some toast for you and Roman. Roman ate the toast even as he made a face as though he wasn’t savoring the taste. Mickey didn’t pay him any mind, munching serenely on his poptart. You left your toast untouched, smirking at Mickey when Roman reached for it next.
"So about last night?" you prompted.
"You want to get in the killer's head," Mickey said.
"There's probably two," you guessed.
Mickey nodded with a grin. "Clever girl," he quoted. You rolled your eyes at the reference.
"Not necessarily," Roman piped up, and you shrugged at him.
"Why would they target unknown extras instead of established actors?" Mickey asked.
"To lay low? Sate his or her bloodlust without drawing too much attention. The news hasn’t even been reporting this," you answered.
"Okay, and who could get into the studio anytime they want?"
"Cast, crew, security," you ticked off your fingers and shrugged again.
"The police," Roman added.
"And there haven’t been any bodies, right?" Mickey prodded. "So if these people are dead, maybe it didn’t happen at the studio."
"Or the killer knows how to get rid of dead bodies," Roman said.
"But why call me? If they want to lay low and avoid suspicion..." You asked, slumping back in your chair, feeling exhausted from trying to piece all this together.
"That’s Ghostface’s MO, isn’t it?" Roman asked.
"And what’s the point if nobody knows?" Mickey questioned. "Somebody has to know. Somebody has to be interested, or it’s like putting on a play for an empty audience."
"You’re the audience," Roman concluded for him.
"So they’re doing all this to mess with me?" you asked uncertainly.
"Maybe," Mickey said. "Who’d want to mess with you?"
You looked at Mickey, knowing immediately who he was thinking about. Aside from him, Roman, and your family (which was absolutely out of the question), all your friends were basically your co-workers.
"The killer’s able to change their voice," you said lowly. "It’s not him. Or anyone from the precinct."
"Who would even have tech like that besides the government?" Roman asked.
"Exactly." Mickey nodded sagely. "And who does the government fund the most? The police."
You sat there silently, your mouth slightly open, as you processed all this.
"So this is a government conspiracy now?" Roman asked, his face scrunched up in disbelief.
"Everything’s a government conspiracy." Mickey smiled wide, his eyes practically shining. "Haven’t you watched ‘Enemy of the State’?"
You groaned.
"I’ll add it to the list," Roman said disinterestedly. "Get dressed, or I’m leaving without you," he added, checking the time on his watch.
"Wanna come with?" Mickey asked you. "You can skulk around a bit."
"Sure, I guess. I have nothing to do around here anyway," you said, getting up to follow Mickey to your bedroom.
Your cellphone rang, startling you and freezing you in your tracks. You looked down at the caller ID, seeing your partner’s name. You darted your eyes to the side and tucked your phone away hurriedly. You strongly doubted this was some high-level conspiracy, despite Mickey’s enthusiasm for the idea, but you weren’t remotely in the frame of mind to deal with any of that right now.
turnnoffyourmind
dededos
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
