#murderinthemaking

[lost-in-gardener]

[[OOC: The thread keeps breaking :')]] @murderinthemaking

Finn's heart is racing, their back arching as she lets out a choked moan while Murdock's tongue delves into them. They look down at him with half-lidded eyes, rolling their hips against his face as they desperately chased their orgasm. Their thighs twitched slightly, so close to where they needed to be. "Fuck, fuck— you're so good," they managed, barely able to form words in their pleasure.

Using the tight grip on his hair, she begins softly moving Murdock's head in time with the movements of their hips, leaning their head back and whimpering softly. "Keep moving your tongue like that, fucking fuck, I'm so close, ah‐!"

[god-complex-narrative]

"I belong here. Don't you understand that? I belong here." @murderinthemaking

Samael pushed his sketchbook in a higher branch than the one he sat on, maneuvering to hang upside down. "Oh yeah? You could get arrested for trespassing, you know. You actually, really do not belong here. Not even a little. Good try, though!" It laughed.

"It's all 'were you followed' until you slip up, huh? Oh but don't worry! I won't tell the groundskeeper." Even though he already knew, being that it was the Groundskeeper.

"Who'd you kill this time?" He asks as though they know each other, but they've never met before.

[the-merrick-archives]

When it’s morning, the presence of Murdock is gone. His side of the bed has been made immaculately, and Merrick tucked in on her side. A light has been left on in the hallway, illuminating her clothes, left folded on a chair in the corner.

On the nightstand, there’s a note, written in black ink. “Gone out. Love, Serotonin” At least that makes his existence somewhat real

@murderinthemaking

Merrick had never slept so deeply, at least that she could readily recall. And it had been a long time since she's slept through the night. So when she begins to wake up in the morning, it's a disorienting experience.

There's that nagging fear, stronger for certain reasons now, that it wasn't real. Which makes her appreciate the several reminders that greet her. Especially the note, running her fingers over the ink. If that and waking up in the same place she fell asleep wasn't enough, there was the purple tie around her neck...and the gentle ache between her legs.

Once she's dressed (removing the tie) and has made her hair and face presentable, she makes her way to the living room. Merrick didn't want to snoop, appreciating the need for privacy. She merely wanted to look around as she waited.

[darkmanor]

(Slash) @murderinthemaking

[for once in a long time, dark is distracted. he has not noticed the movements in the background, has not noticed another presence in the room, and in consequence turns to face his adversary late, and too lazy to employ any countermeasures]

[they both watch as the knife impales itself right into his chest]

[lost-soul-in-time-archives]

👀 @murderinthemaking

Aside from the murderous activities that he partakes in, Murdock had seemed to slowly grow used to Oliver’s presence in the house (or at least, that’s what he hoped). It had taken time and patience on both ends, but at least now they could both have a conversation without any underlying nerves. His presence could calm him, or do the complete opposite.

Oliver shouldn’t be thinking like this at all. He’s risking getting too attached to someone whose profession could get him killed or caught any day now. Problem is, he can’t help it. Murdock was unintentionally distracting, and this was becoming more of a frequent issue every day. It could be small things, like how his hair always seemed to be perfectly positioned, his blood red eyes narrowing in concentration, strong arms keeping his latest victim from squirming…

Or it could be something more dangerous, like how his favorite knife shined almost tantalizingly.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you? What a dirty little thing you are..”

Fuck.

Being in this position in his workshop of all places shouldn’t thrill him the way that it does. Still, his breath hitches when the tip of Murdock’s knife lightly drags across the skin of his neck as he speaks, swallowing down the sound that threatens to make itself known. He holds the weapon in a way that only those who’ve mastered the art do, and while he could never hurt him, the knowledge that this man in front of him has killed who knows how many yet would never lay an unwanted finger on him — Oliver wants to try and squirm, but Murdock’s arm has him pressed to the wall with no way to do so. He could push him off if he truly wanted to, but god, that’s the last thing he wants.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. You think I don’t see when your eyes linger, when you try and hide from me?” The word is punctuated with a hand slithering down to cup him through his trousers, eliciting a shaky gasp from him and a shit-eating grin from the killer. How his knees are already buckling slightly with the smallest touch from him is beyond him, but his hips unintentionally move up once to grind against the palm of his hand almost imperceptibly. It’s embarrassing, but the reward for doing so is greater than his embarrassment.

“I don’t—” Oliver makes an attempt to speak, his voice rough with need, and he has to pause to regain some of his composure when the tip of the knife rests where his pulse would be beating. “And what is it you think I need?” Testing his luck, he’s simply wanting to see how far he can go and watch the other’s reactions to his words. He’s not usually like this, either completely taking what he wants without problem or letting himself be owned, never in between. But the temptation, the energy Murdock exuded was impossible to deny.

“You need release, doll.”

“I can do that on my own.”

“It’s not the same though, now is it?”

The hand cupping him gives a light squeeze, and he’s unable to stop himself from leaning his head back with a wanton groan. This isn’t enough, and he’s not sure it’ll ever be. In a way, Murdock was right. His own hand wouldn’t give him what he wanted, what he needed. Oliver needed to feel more of him; the forgotten feeling of someone else’s skin under his hands, words whispered in his ear for only him to hear. The whole of him is what he wanted and needed, and he’d let himself do and say whatever he’s instructed to if it satisfied Murdock. Turns out that same shit eating grin made his chest tighten in a way he had thought he nearly lost in his past life.

His feelings could wait. His need, however, couldn’t.

“Be good for me and use your words now. Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” He breathes out.

His next breath is stolen from the feeling of lips on his.

[wilfordsbakingshop]

Winter was the best and worst of both worlds. More hours of darkness meant he could venture out a little further than usual without the constant threat of the sun coming up too soon. But the cold was horrific. Already a beast without any blood, the little left inside of him freezes into solid packs of snow. It’s why he seeks out fires, candles that burn inches from his skin for something warm.

This year..he has an assistant for once. Someone warm, more than the average human. Blood that satiated him more than anything and a person he can cuddle with. Only trouble was trying to find him the labyrinth of the manor.

@murdersinthemaking

Winter was always a messy time for him. Two sides fought for control, causing more turmoil in his already struggle-filled life. On one hand, he wished to prepare, get himself ready for the months of snow and cold, start prepping meals and a nest that would be warm enough to thaw out even the iciest of beings. And the other side... wished to rest. Sleep. Go out and play in the snow, before curling up by the fire.

So much to do. And yet, it was as if he couldn't start any of it. All he could do was sit here, by the window, watching the endlessly cloudy sky. Wishing he could just... do something. Find the ability to do something.

[late-night-cabaret]

”Come on now bossman, you’re making quite the show. Strip.” Murdock sits patiently on his knees in front of him, sat in only a collar. @murderinthemaking

"Oh, babyboy, you look so good. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear you forget the proper name to call me this one time..."

Yancy undoes the button on his pants and slowly pulls down the zipper. He lets the slacks fall to the floor and kicks them to the side, leaving him in black boxers. His cock half hard already. Moving closer to Murdock, he hooks his finger under the collar and tilts his head back. "Damn... so close, kitten. Looks like you gotta wait."

[bimtrimmerextraordinaire]

There’s been a few rather unfortunate circumstances that has led to a loss in his usual burial grounds. One main site has been dug up with about four bodies, so he can’t dare go near there. The furnace he used to have on ground is broken, and he can’t just dump bodies in the landfill again.

So he’s resorted to an unfortunate situation. Since he doesn’t kill that often, and it doesn’t make money, he’s started eating them. The taste is certainly acquired, but Murdock doesn’t mind it too terribly. All he needed was a few like minded friends, and that would be picture perfect. A few rumours have circled around a local tv host, and he’s broken in. Waiting patiently inside the dressing room of a Bim Trimmer, standing behind the door.

@murderinthemaking

The studio was pretty much completely empty, apart from a few janitors. The few people left in the building stayed far away from Bim Trimmer's private wing, however. Smart, considering the well-dressed cannibal was hungry and currently preparing to cook his latest meal. Bim opened the door to his dressing room and let out a yelp of surprise at the sight of the man in front of him, before letting out a sigh of relief at the realization that this guy wasn't a cop or anything like that.

"Jesus fucking Christ, man- you could have at least knocked! Newest costume artist, I assume?" He looked over Murdock's outfit, squinting his eyes slightly and letting out a hum. "Not exactly my style, but I guess there's nothing wrong with the occasional change in aesthetic." This guy was kinda hot though. Bim would definitely be flirting with him today.

[asterius-of-crete]

🐱 (for Asterius) @murderinthemaking

Asterius nods and crosses his arms over his chest. All five feet of him seem very serious. "As it should be."

[carnivalofchaos]

[Tease] @murderinthemaking

"So you mean to tell me that there's no way that I could tease you?"

Murdock seemed like a cold man. One that didn't let anyone or anything get to him. Of course, Wilford knew this to be false, for he has seen the parts of Murdock that any other person would die just by trying. But this was certainly a claim that was out of left field. Wilford was just sitting on the couch. What made this happen?

"What makes you say that?"

[lost-in-gardener]

[[OOC: Thread broke again :')]] @murderinthemaking

After driving for a but more time, they approach a rather small house at the far end of a long road right next to some woods. It looked pretty average, especially considering the odd line of work that Finn was in, but the yard was actually pretty big considering the size of the house. "We're here!" they announced, pulling into the parking lot and turning off the car.

There was a chubby orange cat scratching at the front door and it perked up at the sound of Finn's car door opening, before meowing a few times and approaching Murdock's side of the car. "Oh, that's Bread- he's pretty friendly... I know he belongs to someone in the neighborhood, but I don't know who."

[paperbackpieces-makemewhole]

🤲 @murderinthemaking

It's very rare that Enzo is stunned speechless but this is one of those times, staring up at Murdock with wide eyes.

They had just been hanging out, joking around, almost like friends do. Then Murdock pinned him against the wall.

[mariasymphony]

((Donovan's award winning smile broke the thread))

@murderinthemaking

The smile that Maria sees on his face absolutely warms her heart, butterflies in her stomach amidst the simmering heat of want that was there as she smiles as well. That she had something to do with that happiness is the best feeling in the world. She wanted to make him happy in every way possible.

Then what he says, fuck, she's squirming on the counter. Her hands now grip the edge of the counter as her head leans back against the cabinet, letting a quiet whimper slip out. "Mmm... I'd let you, my love. I'd want nothing more than for you to mark me. Take the time to utterly claim me as yours..."

[merrick-of-violet]

((Couldn't handle the girl boss murder angst))

@murderinthemaking

At the mention of money, her blood begins to boil. There had been the subject of a debt that he was paying back, one she desperately wanted to help him with but was afraid to offer. Now, there's a war of guilt and other emotions she has to push aside to suffer through later. He was all that mattered.

Merrick falls to her knees in front of him, almost afraid to touch him anywhere, not wanting to cause more pain. Her arm curls around him, just to make sure he doesn't fall. "It's me, amore... your darling petal. You're... you're safe now, okay? I'm going to get you to the hospital."

She starts to hum one of his favorite pieces of music she's played for him, trying to keep her voice from wavering too much. Holding her other hand out, it's shaking as she focuses on what she needs to be on the other side. The sharp pain in her head is less than usual, but she still winces. "C'mon..."

[wilfordsbakingshop]

With the holiday season dying down, Donovan has a few thankful weeks of rest. Idling mostly, and preparing routines for classes in the spring. For now, he gets to enjoy the tail end of winter. Perusing around the high street, a building that has been seemingly obscured appears in his vision. Almost entirely pink, and the smell is heavenly.

Walking in carefully, Donovan has to stop to take in the shop entirely. Just as pink as the outside, but the smell is even better. “Hello?” @murderinthemaking

DING!

Wilford looks up from his chocolate cake, like a deer that just heard a twig snap. Someone had walked into his shop! How long had it been since he's had a visitor? Oh, this was great! Finally, a customer!

He puts down his bag of frosting, and scrambles out to get behind the counter, unaware of the small bit of red frosting on his cheek. He lays eyes upon the latest entrant, and he smiles.

"Welcome to Wilford Warfstaches Sweets Emporium! I'm Wilford, how can I help you today?"

[late-night-cabaret]

Fuck it we ball 🔥🚿 @murderinthemaking

Masterbating in the shower was a daily occurrence for Yancy. What was a better way to start your day, coffee? Sure, it was good afterward once he was out and dressed. But for him it was stress relief...or, another way to have fun with a partner.

But now, it was the former, as far as he knew. Letting the warm water cascade down his naked form, Yancy lets out a moan as he slowly strokes his length. Tilting his head back with his eyes closed.