#Steve dbd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecreelhouse · 3 months

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I can be your rotten fantasy ☠︎︎🔪♡

Paring: dbd!Steve Harrington x Reader x dbd!Ghostface

Summary: In search of taking your sex life to the next level, Steve takes something that doesn’t belong to him, only for the consequences to be greater than either of you expected.

Word count: 3.7k

CW/Tags: Steve and reader being horny morons, rough sex (PiV), oral sex (m receiving), light impact play, bondage, dacryphilia, dub-con, dirty talk, knife kink/play, DBD references, Pyramid Head mention

A/N: this has been sitting in my docs since 2021, and I kinda forgot all about it until last night. This is Dead By Daylight based, but it can still be read without any knowledge of DBD! title is from body parts by bludnymph. happy reading, fellow horror sluts. <3

🔪♡ ︎♡ ︎♡ ︎🔪

“Wait, wait— did I show you what I was able to swipe?”

Your brows knit together, curious over Steve’s words. He takes it as a sign to reach into his back pocket, pulling out a mask to show you— Ghostface’s mask.

“Steve, how the fuck did you get this?”

“He keeps extras in the basement. I found one hiding in a locker down there during the last trial.” Steve smirks— the same way he always does with the small ounce of ‘cocky son-of-a-bitch’ he has left in him.

“He’s gonna kill you.” You murmur, watching as Steve puts it over his head, pausing before slipping the mask over his face.

“Not much of a difference from how he usually does, huh?” Steve still looks too confident, while you cant help but look over your shoulder in worry that Ghostface is around.

He wouldn’t be, realistically. The two of you aren’t even in a trial, and far away, safe from the killers. For now.

“Steve…” Your voice warns, ignoring the warmth in your lower stomach. “This could really get us in trouble.”

“C’mon, you said you had a thing for bad guys.” Steve mumbles as he leans towards your face, lips barely touching yours. You snort at his corny words, but he ignores that. “You’re the one that said you have a thing for being scared.”

It wasn’t a lie: you really did have a thing for being scared, in the right situations, of course. There have been times you felt … excited as you were cornered or downed by some of the killers. You weren’t sure what exactly did it for you— the stalking, the weapons, the darkness of the beings themselves …. There was always something that got you way, way too aroused.

Steve pulls the mask over his face, donning the signature expression Ghostface always wore. His rather soft touches became rougher, fingers digging into the skin of your hips where your shirt rode up.

You’re flipped around, back against the wall, while Steve grasps your throat. A strangled moan escapes you as you try to hold it back, trying not to come off as so needy and desperate already.

It doesn’t miss Steve, though. “You do like this, don’t you?” His voice is muffled through the mask, but still low and laced with lust.

You shut your eyes before nodding hesitantly, squeaking out an affirmative sound. You can’t see Steve’s face, but you know damn well he’s still smirking under that mask.

Steve rolls his hips into yours, grinding his already hard cock against you. Again, you try to hold back a moan, but it still comes out in a fractured, shuddered, breathy mess. He gropes your breasts roughly, tugging at your nipples through your shirt with a firm pinch.

“F- fuck—“ You gasp, hands flying to Steve’s pants, immediately undoing them. Steve moves a hand down to yours, mirroring your actions. The two of you end up nude waist down quickly.

The thing was, you never knew when you’d be summoned to another trial, so usually any sexual experience had to be rushed, just in case. At this point, you and Steve were pros at quickies.

“God, sweetheart… wish I had a knife to play with you some more,” Steve grunts as he runs the head of his cock along your wet folds. You hook a leg around his hip, giving him easier access to your entrance.

“Nex- next time,” You gasp as he presses against your clit. Steve chuckles lowly behind the mask, teasing you again by dragging his leaking head against your sensitive spot. “Steve, please, j- just fuck me alrea—“

Steve thrusts into you without much warning, causing you to scream out and throw your head back into the wall. He slaps your face, albeit still with his gentle touch, but it makes you clench around him regardless.

Steve groans loudly as he keeps his brutal pace, knowing he’s close already, and you’re not far behind, squeezing him so tight, threatening to milk him dry.

“Yeah… fuck…” His grunts are muffled, but you’ve never heard him so… feral. You can’t hold back the filthy cries spilling out of you, almost screams, as Steve continues drilling into you. “This was worth the risk.”

—————

As silence settled around you, your ears still rang, filling the void. Chest still heaving with deep pants, you wondered if you had ever run that fast in a trial before.

Exhausted, you let yourself collapse back into the overgrown grass underneath you. You made it through, you actually escaped. You should’ve been relieved you bypassed another gruesome death, but all that was on your mind was Steve.

The two of you became separated after the second generator kicked on, sprinting in opposite directions after a close call with Pyramid Head. After that, you tried keeping an eye out for any sign of Steve, but were unsuccessful. Eventually the timer ran down and you had to leave through the open gate while you still could.

You could only hope that Steve made it through before you.

“Jesus Christ, the deaths aren’t permanent in this place, settle down.” You mentally scold yourself, dragging a dirt caked and blood crusted hand down your face. “He’ll be fine either way.”

Even with the self reassurance that the deaths weren’t final, your exhaustion was slowly turning over into rage. Fuck these trials, fuck these goddamn killers, and the Entity can absolutely go fuck itself to hell and back as far as you were concerned.

The post-trial fatigue was always ruthless; you could feel your eyelids slowly closing on their own, muscles growing limp as your body relaxed from its fight-or-flight mode that was a part of your everyday life now. With all your strength left, you moved back to rest against a giant tree, one with yours and Steve’s initials carved into the decaying bark.

“You could just wait here for him, this is your spot anyway, he knows where to find you.”

It’s unclear how much time passes since your eyes slip shut, but you let them flutter open at the sound of someone walking on the gravel nearby.

At first sight, you jump and yelp, falling onto your back on the ground. You begin to nervously laugh as you realize—

“Steve, give it up already.” You tease as he leans over you, while you look at each other upside down. He’s wearing the Ghostface mask again, but then you notice something new. “Did you steal one of his robes too?”

Steve shrugs silently, and you have to roll your eyes.

“What? Now you’re not talking either?” You lean up on the backs of your arms, staring into the mask’s pitch black eyes. “Should’ve got the voice changer to make it believable.”

His head tilts slowly as he continues to look down at you. Another nervous laugh slips past your lips.

“Very funny, Harrington.” You reach up to pull the mask off, but his strong, gloved hand pins yours down to the ground. You grunt in surprise. “Hey! A little warning when you wanna play rough. Jerk.”

His other hand grips your free hand, pinning down next to your other hand. Yanking them together, he positions them above your head, gripping onto you with one hand as his other hand reaches behind him. Searching quickly, he pulls a rope from god knows where, before sloppily tying your hands together.

“A- are we gonna pick a safe word?”

Steve continues binding your wrists together; the knot is a wreck, but still effective. He hovers over your trembling form, staring at you like you’re prey.

“O- okay… I can pick it—“ You sharply gasp as Steve swiftly slips a knife under your shirt, slicing up the middle of the fabric. The ruined shirt falls aside, leaving your bra exposed. “Fuck… fuck… okay— uh— entity?”

Steve’s shoulders fall, then begin to shake ever so slightly in a silent laugh. You roll your eyes and huff, but he nods regardless.

The knife is polished, like it’s never been used. It makes your skin crawl with terror and excitement. Steve rests it on your chest, flat side to your skin, still for a moment. Then he slides it under your bra, tugging the sharp side up away from you. The twist of the weapon with the pressure from your bra, tight against your skin, digs the blunt side of metal into your sternum uncomfortably.

Shivering, you hold still, apprehensive to make any detrimental moves. It takes a bit of effort, but the blade finally slices through the stiffness of the bra’s gore. Though the two of you are ways away from the camp, you still blush at feeling so exposed out in the open.

One gloved hand reaches for your chest, groping roughly. You wince at the sudden painful pace, but you’re not immune to the pleasure that follows, arching into his touch. The other hand holding the knife begins to trace teasingly along your skin.

“You uh- you know how to use that th- thing, right?”

Steve nods slowly, still silent. You didn’t expect him to be so… dedicated to the character.

The knife’s tip catches along your sensitive skin, just enough to prick the surface, but it still startles you, granting another gasp.

“Wait- wa- hold on—” You panic, but force yourself to stay still. You trust Steve, he’d never hurt you, but something about this all feels… off.

Across the softest part of your breast, the entire edge slides across, ever so slightly. It’s smaller than a paper cut, but it still stings enough that you wince.

You watch blood bubble up a little through the laceration, gulping in fear. You didn’t expect Steve to jump right into knife play, ever. He teased often, but he was too nice to actually do it.

Thinking about it all made you dizzy with pleasure, soaking through your bottoms with arousal. Steve slowly starts to grind his hips into yours, knife still teasing along the surface of your skin. It catches and scrapes every so often, leaving behind thread-thin lacerations along your torso. You don’t bother to hide the whimpers his actions earn.

“St- oh, fu- fuck!”

So distracted by the knife, you didn’t even notice that he undid your pants before slamming into you mercilessly. It takes you a moment to register the way he stretches you so suddenly, and then the wave of pain hits.

Your mouth hangs open, but you can’t find your voice, can’t bring yourself to form words. A beat passes before a raw, raspy scream escapes your throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Steve, what is your—“

He slams himself into you again, stealing the rest of your question. The knife comes up to your throat, blade just close enough to threaten you with fear and the possibility of consequence as it rests on your skin. You’re tempted to use your safe word, jarred by how fast the scene has escalated.

Terror running through your veins only heightened your arousal more; Steve throws his head back, releasing a strangled groan under the mask.

That didn’t sound like Steve. … At all.

Your heart leaps into your throat at the sound, pure horror replacing every other feeling you had just moments ago.

Eyes wide, you dare looking at the mask, fighting back moans as he pumped into you. “You… you’re- you aren’t St—-“

“Hey, sorry I’m late, that trial was a nightm—“

Your head flips to the side, unable to believe the sight just feet away from you. Steve, worn out, exhausted, dried blood across his features.

Steve freezes in place, eyes growing as wide as yours, silent in fear. You do a double take— to Steve, then Ghostface. Ghostface, Steve. Steve was never in the Ghostface costume, so that means—

“Surprise, sweetheart.”

The gravelly voice confirms your fears, and you squirm under the stranger, with no luck on escaping.

Steve begins sprinting over, his well intentioned hero instinct taking over by default, but Ghostface presses the knife closer to your throat. You do your best not to hyperventilate as the sharp edge sits against such a sensitive area, but you’re terrified.

If you die outside of a trial, is the death permanent? Because this was not the way you wanted to find out.

“Watch yourself, Stevie.” Ghostface’s tone dripped with mockery, continuing his rough thrusts into you, earning faint, defeated whimpers from you. “They’re really enjoying this. Should feel how wet they get when they’re threatened.”

Steve’s face contorts into concern and rage all in one, eyes darting between you and the masked killer.

Meanwhile, you’re trying your absolute hardest not to moan while your eyes well up with tears. Of fear? Maybe pleasure? Guilt? You weren’t sure, but Ghostface is right, you’re enjoying this, and you feel filthy.

“You just can’t stop soaking my cock, huh, sweetheart?”

Your mouth falls open, unable to find your words still. Before your eyes roll back, you glance over at Steve with shame and desire.

“Sit and stay, pretty boy.” Ghostface points to the ground with his knife, and Steve reluctantly obeys. While still drilling into you, he groans “This is what happens when you fuck around with my shit.”

“We di- didn’t—“

“I wouldn’t fucking lie now if I were you,” Ghostface pushes the knife just a little further, and this time you can feel it catch ever so slightly on your skin.

You gasp, then a sob escapes you, to which Ghostface just laughs.

“Who are you trying to fool, slut?” He growls as clearly as possible through the mask, keeping his pace. “You just squeezed me so fucking tight when I moved the knife, don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

Another sob leaves you, but it molds into a moan, because he’s right. You like this. You shouldn’t, this is wrong on so many levels, but the way Ghostface continues to rail you, you go dumb as your mind goes blank. Nothing else matters.

Ghostface pulls the knife away from you, and you shudder a sigh of relief, though internally you’re kind of disappointed at the loss. He notices and laughs again. Laughs right in your fucking face.

Before you can process anything, he pulls out, leaving you empty for only a moment before flipping you over on your stomach. As his hand reaches to shove your face into the ground, he bottoms out in you, earning filthy noises from you both.

Steve is horrified, but he can’t look away. Was it shock? Was it anger? He wanted to step in and help you, but he was afraid the wrong decision would cost you your life.

And if Steve was being totally honest, he wasn’t sure how the rules worked outside of trials. Killers didn’t approach survivors outside of the hell the Entity conjures up. There was no way for him to know if that changed outside of trials, and he wasn’t trying to find that out by sacrificing you.

… And, if Steve was being totally, absolutely honest, he was finding it hard to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. He couldn’t figure out what the fuck was wrong with him, but he was well aware how twisted this was.

“S- Stevie—“ You whimper, trying to reach your bound hands out in his direction. Ghostface laughs again, pushing your face into the ground with more pressure. Again, your walls constrict around him, and you feel shame at how much you like the abuse.

“Oh, does the poor damsel in distress want their knight in shining armor?” Ghostface mocks, thrusting all the way to the hilt with no concern for how you feel. You feel gravel and dirt scrape against your face as he continues pounding you into the ground.

Something about that, all of that, just makes you even more wet.

Steve can’t help but let his hand palm himself through his jeans. God, does he look ashamed, but something about that just made your skin burn up even more.

“If your pretty boy wants to join in, by all means,” Ghostface snarks as he gestures towards you while staring Steve down. “But I call the shots.”

———

You’ve lost count on the amount of orgasms that’ve torn through you already. Somewhere around the fourth high, the one that rolled right into the fifth with no warning, that’s when your brain went fuzzy, deep in subspace.

“So cock drunk, you just couldn’t stop at one, could you?”

Ghostface’s gloved hand shoves you closer to his pelvis, causing you to gag on his length. He tasted of you and him combined, and that alone was able to drive you wild. Even better, Steve was railing into you from behind as Ghostface fucked your mouth, matching Steve’s pace.

“Pretty little thing needed to be spit roasted so bad.” Ghostface teases, admiring the way your wide eyes look up at him as he continues fucking your face, eyes rimmed with tears. “Bet you let everyone fuck you around here, huh?”

You groan around his shaft, his words causing you to clench up. That sets Steve off, moaning sinfully as he slammed into you. His fingers on the left hand grip the swell of your ass, desperate for something to hold onto for balance. His right hand holds the knife— Ghostface encouraged him to try some knife play— the length of the blade parallel with your spine.

Every so often the blade scrapes your skin as he creates taunting patterns with the tip. You whimper, scared, but your cunt tells a different story. Steve continues fucking harder, harder than he’s ever fucked anyone before.

“Our p- personal little fuck toy,” Steve grunts; every so often he makes a comment with some dirty talk much tamer than Ghostface’s, but hearing him talk at all is enough to make the coil in your stomach tighten.

“I usually don’t— yeah, right there—“ Ghostface grabs your head with both hands, hips snapping into your face mercilessly. “I don’t usually share, pretty boy… Jesus Christ— but I- I’ll make an exception for you two.”

Steve’s hips stutter— he’s close. His head lolls back with a deep, gravelly groan. “Th- they were mine first.”

The way they talk about you with objectification, as if you’re not even there, it humiliates you, sending you closer to yet another release. Your legs shake, and your arms weaken, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Ghostface twists his gloved hand into your hair, tugging your head up to stay on his cock. The pull is intense, causing tears to spill over onto your face, mixing in with the dried blood and dirt that already settled there hours ago.

Ghostface ignores Steve’s claim, rutting into your mouth with all he’s got. Steve takes that as a challenge to one-up him, thrusts picking up to a merciless speed and force. The silence of the night around you is broken by all three of you grunting, groaning, and especially you crying from how good this feels. The filthy noises of your slick cunt sucking Steve in as his skin slaps against yours, and the gagging from your mouth as Ghostface continues fucking your face are dragging you to climax with ease.

You’re drooling on Ghostface’s cock while you soak Steve’s, eyes rolling back as another orgasm hits you full force, causing your entire body to convulse as pleasure consumes every inch of your being. Steve finally spills into you, making a mess of your tight, velvety walls that continue to flutter around him, while a guttural moan escapes him.

Light flashes quickly in your face; Ghostface has his fucking camera in hand, skillfully taking a selfie as Steve cums, and you’re crying with Ghostface deep down your throat. He’s definitely done this before, only taking one and sighing satisfied before he cums, too.

“Oh, fuck… good girl…filthy bitch.” Ghostface grunts as he shoots his seed into your stuffed mouth, saltiness hitting your tongue before you swallow, left panting as he pulls out from your swollen lips. “That was fun, sweetheart, but I gotta go score some kills.” He releases the grip on your hair, and you collapse into the ground.

Steve throws the knife to the ground near Ghostface, panting as he pulls out of you, watching the mix of your arousal with his drip out of you and pool on the ground below.

“Next time you try stealing my shit,” Ghostface points his knife towards Steve, “You’re choking on my cock too, pretty boy.”

Steve ignores the way his threat stirs something within him.

The masked killer stands, flipping the knife in his hand before sheathing it somewhere under his robe, walking away like nothing even happened. His tall, threatening figure dissolves into the mist by the edge of the forest, leaving you and Steve alone.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck just happened?” Steve breathes, pulling you towards him as he moves back to the tree you were waiting by earlier. Working on the knot that still holds your wrists together, he asks softly “Are you okay?”

Gazing up at Steve as he pulls your back against his chest, he notices the mess your spit and tears made all over yourself. You’ve got small, superficial cuts along various spots of your body, your lips are cock-swollen, and bruises are forming already from where they both gripped and manhandled you. Above it all, you’ve got the most dazed, sleepy smile plastered on your face.

“M’so okay, you?”

Steve reveals a smirk he was holding back as he looks down at you. “That was… fucking terrifying, but at least neither of us died.”

“Like you didn’t enjoy it.” You tease, eyes fluttering shut as you settle into Steve’s arms.

“I’m not denying that.” Steve admits, kissing the top of your head. “Never stealing from him again, though.”

“You better not steal from any of the killers ever again.” You murmur, sleep creeping up on you.

There’s not much to do for aftercare out here, other than keeping one another company while giving comfort. You’re still a filthy wreck; tears, saliva, dried blood and dirt everywhere, while still dripping the mixed slick from Steve fucking you.

“Trust me, I won’t.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, but you break it before exhaustion can steal you for the night.

“… You think Pyramid Head likes threesomes?”

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