The Ghost Face - Tumblr Posts
A Blurry Photo
Picture Perfect | Aftermath of Picture Perfect Headcanons | Smile For Me
Warnings: Manipulation, Slight non-con
Word Count: 2.5K
A/N: I’m gonna do a part 4 with the pregnancy so keep an eyes on that ;P
He watches you, edging closer to the bubble you’ve created around yourself. The way you make sure that not a single thing of yours touches someone or something and that not a single thing that isn’t familiar touches you. He can walk close to you- enough to see the red lines around your neck and he salivates, spit pooling in his mouth. As perceptive as you are, you don’t seem to notice him. There’s something deeper inside of him now. It isn’t lust that he feels for you. It’s deeper than that, something more, something that makes his chest ache, that makes him want to do something idiotic and he does. It’s daylight, the sun is out and you’re safe. Eyes and hands will stop from any crime being committed upon such a sinful, innocent person. It’s easy for him- everything is when it comes to you- all he has to do is reach into your pocket and slip out your phone, he’s sure someone has caught him in the act, but no one says a thing. Slender fingers tap against your shoulder and you jump and you look at him with wide, tearful eyes and there’s a shock that shoots straight to his crotch, awakening his flaccid member.
“I’m sorry to startle you, miss, but it seems like you dropped your phone.” He holds the phone, hands large and imposing, covering all of the device, knowing you’ll have to touch him to retrieve it.
You look down at it and then back to him and his smile never wavers. “I- Thank you-”
“Danny.” You were never going to ask his name, he knows that. You’re too scared to do anything like that. “You can call me Danny.” He smiles sweetly at you and he has to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop the growing smile when you fingertips touch against his fingers.
You clear your throat, a forced smile making its way onto your lips and while he knows that it makes sense, he can’t help but feel anger at the expression given to him. “Thank you, Danny.” You pull on the phone, holding it tightly in your hands. “I uh- I hadn’t noticed it fell so thank you.” Your foot turns, ready to turn your body and he pushes forward, so desperate to continue talking to you.
“You uh-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat, walking beside you- “You seem a bit stressed, everything okay?” You glance at him through the corner of your eye and he can only give you a practiced nervous smile. “I really don’t mean to pry-”
“Then don’t,” you cut him off, hurrying your steps. “I’m fine. Thank you for picking up my phone but I have to get going.”
The corners of his lips pull downwards. Fury hammers at him, his hands curling and brows furrowing. “Listen, I’m just trying to say that you seem a bit stressed. Are you sure you’re okay? I work for the news and I know there have been a number of break ins-” that word causes you to flinch- “and I don’t want to leave you scared during this difficult time.” He makes sure to stumble in his footsteps when you turn a corner, jogging slightly to catch up to you, hands pushed into his pockets. “You’re shaking, you know?”
You falter in your steps and he has to refrain himself from smiling. “You’re being sweet and I- I appreciate it but really, I’m fine.”
“How about we go get some tea?” You turn to look at him and he considers it progress. “I think coffee might do you something bad, so tea sounds nice, right? Have you had bubble tea before?” Your eyes light up and his smile turns softer. “I’ll pay. Listen, I’m not trying to do anything weird, I just wanna make you’re okay before you go back home. I know a scared face when I see one.” You just need a little push and he can provide that. He stands in front of you and the tip of your sneaker nips at his, and holds his hand out to you, unblemished and giving. “Would you like to go get bubble tea with me?” Your hand twitch, fingers curling to place themselves against his only to pull away and he’s sure that if he hadn’t ruined you, you would have touched him. You nod your head, your answer a soft whisper and tears welling in your eyes and he does not comment, only smiles and holds your hand. “Great. I know the perfect place.” You’re already so broken, all he has to do is show you a bit of kindness and he can fix you.
-
You are curled up against Danny under a thick blanket, hands interlaced as you both watch the news, the tone somber as the woman recounts the latest murder. Your thumb rubs against his knuckles, the room quiet. It takes all his might to avoid looking down and seeing your reaction. He can remember the murder quite well. He’s just surprised it took them so long to find the body. It wasn’t as if he had hidden it but he must have mistaken the kindness for people to check up on others. He mistakes the kindness that you have for others. It was something that happened, a pull on his heartstrings with the time he has spent with you.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Your thumb stops its melodic rhythm. “All the murders. I man, it’s just one guy and they can’t even seem to find him.” You laugh and it’s bitter, empty and makes a shiver run down his spine. “You- You go there, right? To take photos and stuff?”
“Yeah,” he responds, reaching over to grab the remote, holding his hand over the pause button, waiting for the right moment to hit it. “I get a few things, nothing ever tramuzitng, by the time I arrive the body is gone and there are markers all over.” A still image of Ghostface appears, he’s frozen in time, a hand raised with fingers curled in a mock greeting with the knife raised. He can feel your body stiffen, the small breath of air that is sucked into your body and the way your nails dig into his skin. “I’m safe, you know. I’m not leaving you anytime soon. Plus-” he turns his hands over, grabbing yours roughly- “the murderer never returns to the scene of the crime.”
“I just-” your voice shakes and he wonders if you’re going to tell him the details of your encounters with him- “I worry.” He frowns. It seems like you won’t.
It’s his fault, of course. He’s ruined your trust in people, invaded every aspect of himself into you, has felt your body as you cried and he was so sure that the last time he was here- which at this point was months ago- that he had gotten you pregnant and yet here you are with a regular period and consuming what you want without worry. But he can’t give up hope- you let him have a key to your place, you spend the nights with him or vice versa, you kiss him against the lips, breath shaky and hands gripping onto his shirt like it's a lifeline while it is a peck, he has to rush somewhere hidden to fist his cock in his hand and think of the way you’d be so giving and so fearful to him. It’s like you’re teasing him on purpose.
“Look at me?” He asks, already grabbing your body and turning you over. You look at him, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips, eyes wide legs straddling him, your clothed cunt pressed against his crotch and if he closes his eyes he can imagine the smell of it. His hands cup your face, encasing you and forcing you to look at him as the image of Ghostface is frozen on screen. “I’m going to be okay. No silly murderer who hides his face is going to get me. After all,” he smiles, leaning close to you, “I’m just a photographer. It’s not like I know anything.” He presses his lips against you, your words muffled against his tongue.
His hands slip down your face and onto the curve of your neck. He can feel your body stiffen, the soft murmur of his name on your lips, the way you latch onto his shirt and tug on it, scratching your nails against the soft cotton. His hands lower, hands slipping down over the curve of your chest, your legs instinctively trying to squeeze together, only to rest against your stomach. A hand curves to your back, sliding under your shirt where his fingertips tap lightly against your bare back. His other hand slips under the front side of your shirt, trailing above, fingers ghosting over the soft curve of your stomach until he reaches the band of your bra, his hand cupping a breast and your hands on him go flat, a feeble attempt to push him away as his hand pulls down your cup, exposing your breast, a hardened nipple poking against the palm of his hand. Danny wonders how close he can get until you really try to get him off of you- until you’re crying and hitting against his body, until all the small progress that you’ve made with him can be broken once again.
He tries to restrain himself, to hold back any of his primal urges to claw at your skin, to mark you until you’re sobbing against him. The most he allows himself to do is pinch at your nipple which makes you whimper against him, your hands now clawing at his chest and he can pretend for a second that you want this as well, trick himself that you’re gentle shoves that grind yourself against him are on purpose. He’s gasping against your mouth, pushing himself close to you, spit dribbling past the corners of both mouths. His fingers are pinched against your nipple, pulling taut on it and twisting it until your body goes rigid and he can hear a cry of pain muffled by the wretched kiss he’s placed onto you.
It isn't until you bite against his lip that he lets go. He curses, bringing a hand up to cusp the wounded piece of flesh that burns. Other than the small curse that leaves his lips, he’s calm, cupping his clothed mouth allowing for the blood to pool and fill his mouth with poison. You, on the other hand, are a mess. You’re entangled in the blankets, kicking them off, crying and sniveling, trying to fix where he’s touched only to start sobbing when you mimic where he had just touched you.
“You know, if you wanted to bite, you have to be a bit gentler than that,” he tries to joke, letting his tongue graze over the wound, blood spilling onto the flat of his tongue, filling his mouth with copper.
His fingertips touch against his lip, a thin, shining blood on his finger pad, staining him in his natural color. His eyes glisten, fingers still as he stares in fascination. His mind is fuzzy, static stuffed inside as the room is filled with a high-pitched noise, eyes never wanting to look away from the blood on his fingers- from his own blood. He never took you for the type to fight back. He meets your eyes- cruel, wicked eyes that meet fearful ones, ones that are rimmed red and look upon him with the same look that you gave him many nights before when he’s invaded your home. His fingers curl, the palm of his hand dotted with the same blood that had been spilled by you.
“I- I told you to stop,” you hiss, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket until they’re spilling from your hand, bringing the bundled bunch to your chest, where it rises and dips with such exaggeration. “I didn’t want to.” He tilts his head, his nails digging into his palm. You keep your gaze on him, never faltering, never looking anywhere else. “I’m-” more tears well in your eyes, voice cracking and a shiver runs through his body- “I’m sorry, Danny.”
With a sudden switch, he’s snapped back into reality. His smile is warm, gentle even, as he opens his arms and welcomes you inside, staining your bicep with his blood as your sob into his chest. He smiles, his fingers dancing along your spine in a spindly dance. You clutch onto him and he shushes you gently, letting you apologize and cry as he watches, so desperate for you to know edge closer to him and feel him poke against you, so perverted to have you never find out how your tears excite him more.
He moves slightly, a soft press of his chest against your body, and you collapse further into him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing against him, no doubt feeling him and you remain silent save for your sobbing. You refuse to say a single word about your disastrous meetings with Ghostface, even as he stares right at you through the television screen. You don’t speak ill of the monster who holds you in his arms. You hold the monster tight, finding comfort until your sobs have turned into hiccups and whimpers, until you’re kissing against his bitten lip, your lips shining with a thinned blood that appears almost pink on your lips.
“I didn’t mean to push you so much,” he says, his hand flat on your back. “I just thought we had been dating for so long and well-” he sighs, pressing his lips against the crown of your head- “I didn’t mean to push you. There’s no excuse for that.” He moves, squirming under you and you rise, looking at him with
“I just- I don’t have the best record with relationships.” He can feel your hesitation, the way your body tenses and the clawing against his shirt. “I don’t want to get into it,” you finalize, doing your best to not look at the screen where the image remains still, never moving and always taunting you. You pull yourself away from him, standing with your back faced towards the killer and he watches, eyes darting to the door where you begin your descent, his hand barely missing yours when he reaches to hold it. “I’m going to go home.” You turn to look at him, your mouth pulled into a straight line. “I’ll uh-” you stop midway, cutting yourself off as you lower yourself to the ground, adjusting your shoes and tightening the laces. Your hand wraps around the door knob, the humid air outside making you freeze, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You look at him, a tense smile stretched on your face, as you give him a short wave goodbye. The door closes behind you and he collapses onto the couch, hand unzipping his pants and wrapping around his throbbing member, hissing at the contact.
The Ghost Face wishes you a merry Halloween! 👻🍬
