Black Deadpool Mask Novels & Stories

I waited for a few minutes but wasn't feeling any pressure on me. Then I heard him scoff making me open my eyes, "Why do you think I fought her if I wanted you dead?" I opened her eyes in shock, I never expected anyone to just save me. I looked up to see a man in a full black garment, but his whole face was covered in a mask. His eye color is a deep shade of black, that kind of terrifies me. "I didn't kill her because I can see you won't like that, but never time I won't think twice before ending her." He told me, leaving me in utter dismay.

He hadn’t fully understood what that meant until now. Everywhere he looked, the ultra-elite were shedding their daytime restraint. In a shadowed corner near the main salon bar, a statuesque redhead in a feathered gold mask had her back pressed against the wall while a man in a black-on-black suit—Ken recognized him as a prominent hedge fund manager—kissed her throat with open-mouthed hunger. His hand moved under her long dress, fingers working skillfully as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. No one around them batted an eye. This was the Hamptons after dark. At this hidden mask party, the rules dissolved with the champagne.

However, when he thought of the fact that Ryder had made this, especially for him, his heart softened and the dissatisfaction vanished immediately. While Ryder put on the coat and boots, Midnight fixed the mask on his face. Since it wasn't the first mask Ryder had made, it was the best one so far she had managed to create. Even though having a few flaws was inevitable, it still was pretty decent. The mask was a half one that covered only the upper half of Midnight's eyes. It resembled a ball's mask. It was black with delicate ornaments made of clay and painted with golden paint. The mask covered most of Midnight's face, including half of his cheeks, but his jaw and lips were out in plain sig

The two rogues were about to attack him when they suddenly fell to the ground with their heads detached from their bodies. He tried to open his eyes and saw a person standing proudly like he didn’t do anything. He was wearing a black hoody, but the odd thing was his nose and mouth were covered with a black mask – revealing only his dark reddish-brown almond-shaped eyes. He was holding a sharp katana where blood was dripping to the ground. And before he could even saw a word to thank whoever it was, he was already consumed by darkness.

A majestic and ruthless cold aura exudes from him, giving one the urge to subconsciously bow to him. On the man’s face was a sleek and metallic cold, black mask that had intricate, sharp, fierce yet minimalistic designs that made it seem as if it wanted to come alive. The mask's eye cutouts are sharp, revealing the man's piercing, deep, and frigid blue eyes. The mask edges were sharp and precise, enhancing the man's intimidation, majesty, coldness, and ruthlessness.

Following all the lines of his body up from his hand makes it obvious how lean his waist is compared to the broadness of his shoulders, but it only adds to the dangerous look he gives off. The charity event requires masks, and when Brixton pulls out his, it's an intricate black metal design resembling half of a wolf’s face, as if the other half has been torn off, with teeth bared that look as sharp as I imagine they are when he shifts… if he shifts.

My grip tightens on the phone. No. No, no, no. My heart slams against my ribs, my pulse roaring in my ears. I watch him—Ghost—standing in that fucking room, his hands shaking, desperation clear in his eyes. He wasn’t pleading for our lives. He was trying to undo what he did. “Why should we believe you?” the masked man asks. Ghost lets out a bitter, humorless laugh. “How else would I know the name? Come on, why do you think I told that idiot to stop?” His hands clench at his sides, his whole body tense. “Just take the three million and let us go.”

“Hehe, Argent is so arrogant and has a big appetite, asking for more despite already taking my divine weapon.” The man took off his mask made of human skin and revealed a weather-beaten face. He was not old, but his face was distorted as if his skin was burned, which looked terrifying.

Standing where I expected my boyfriend to be, leaning right over me as I flail helplessly on the floor is a man but it’s not my Owen. The man is dressed in black from head to toe. He is wearing one of those creepy as hell ‘V for Vendetta’ masks over his face, the one with the horrid smile etched onto the mouth and the slits for eyes that let the monster hide behind the mask. In his hand is a large knife, a chef’s butcher knife and the chance to scream again never comes as the knife comes down.

"Just… go get me my favorite breakfast. I'll be downstairs in a bit." She smiled wearily at me again. "Okay. Take your time." After she'd left, I limped into the kitchen mirror. Same brown eyes. Same long black hair. Same bloody curves. "Still the same old Selene," I said to myself, exhaling. "Oh goddess do something." I opened my closet and started stuffing my backpack with nothing but tomboy attire. Hoodies. Loose shirts. Loose jeans. If I was going to pull this off, I had to look like a boy. I could just get the rest from Liam anyways.