#jed olsen/danny johnson x reader

[fenriswine]

Pov: you punched him in the face

[kleinne10]

Halloween! AKA, Y/N/reader/anon's best night (with size difference because deez nu-).

I originally made them at Mcdonald's, but my brain went funky... This was also kinda experimental? Drawing with a mouse sucks, but I like the thick brush.

Sorry for not posting anything! Will drop some Fallout shitposts this weekend

[diejager]

Riding

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his head thrown back in the moment of exquisite pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re- tight!”

In a daze, he reached for your hips, warm palms clutching your naked flesh as he tried to ground himself, trying to stay coherent in the frenzy of sinful pleasure. You felt whole, squatting over him in the corner of the killer’s shack, skin bare and naked to his hazel eyes and hungry mouth. He watched you roll your hips, grinding yourself against the hardness of his cock, his trimmed hair tickling your nub, sending you both shivering. You from the constant stimulation, and him, from your sudden tightness around him. 

He arched his back, rutting into you, his strong arms moving along his shaft. It was a soft motion of pushing in and pulling out, in and out, again and again, until you were both panting and moaning for more. You met in the middle, your lips dancing across his in a passionate tango of love and obsession. You pushed off the ground, thighs burning at the work of riding him, he helped you move, supporting your weight with his hands and his hips thrusting upwards. 

“God-” he gasped, hissing when you bit his lower lip, pulling it when he tried to pull away. His chest rumbled in a low chuckle, pushing his body flush against yours and grinding into you. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.” 

You let out a cheeky laugh, hands roaming the expanse of his coat, nudging the flap away and running your nails over his tight muscles. You dug your short nails into him, hearing him groan, hips stuttering as you slammed down on his lap. He made the most addicting sounds you’ve ever heard, low and raspy, or deep and teasing. Danny had a way with words, his tongue singing the best songs one could wish to hear when he was moaning and groaning under you.

“I could tell you the same, Ghostie.”

He slurred out a moan at your nickname. He loved it when you called him Ghostie, you fully embraced his darker side, even playing little games with him when he asked. Maybe you were as sick as he was, wanting to give yourself to him, letting him fuck you however he wanted and giving him whatever he wanted. But he was as devoted to you as you were, he’d kneel and beg for you, he’d let you use him as your toy and he’d do anything for you. You were both a blessing and a curse to each other.

You gasped, back arching and eyes rolling. You clawed at his shoulder, drawing lines of beautiful crimson from your love down his chest as you rolled your hips. Danny hissed, driving skyward jerkily, biting back his moan as he came. He filled you in waves of potent cream, the white cum dripping down his balls and his puckered rim when it became too much for your tight snatch. He gave a few more thrusts, riding out your peaks until his cock grew soft and he supported your limp figure, tired and satiated. 

“Love you, doll,” he murmured, his swollen lips finding their rightful place on the crown of your head. 

“Love ya too, Danny.”

[akanothere]

POV: Jed Olsen at lunch break and you are the server

[aliidarling]

Danny ghostface and him falling in love at first sight with oblivious fem reader

With squirting but no degration plz

Sfw and nsfw plz

love potions

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!

summary; danny falls in love with you at first sight and grows an obsession.

warnings: danny, smut, blood, fingering, nice danny because he’s low key ooc, he’s OBSESSED with us, stalker danny kinda, praise, dumb n naive reader if u think abt it

no beta read we die like danny’s victims 😈

nsfw content below!!

danny never thought of himself as the type of person to fall in love. he thought his whole life would be full of blood and gore, and when he eventually got taken away by the dark fog and spawned into the entity’s realm, his future twisted into a more dark scene.

slashing, hooking and tunneling became his routine. he would spawn into trials and do his very best to kill them all, sending them back into the sky with little polaroids as memories. he liked to keep the photos and tuck them away underneath his bed back at his killer shack.

but when he first laid his eyes on you, it was like a rock had dropped right onto his head and see two. you were so gorgeous he almost tripped, earning a small giggle from the suriviors he was currently chasing, steve. a low scoff rumbles through his chest at the sound of steve making fun of him, his eyes narrowing immediately.

“shut the fuck up.” he hisses, grabbing the boy by his collar as he attempts to vault through a window. steve yelps at the sudden grab, wiggling around in his iron grasp as he’s dragged to the nearest hook. a scream echoes throughout the trial grounds, taunting all the survivors how one of them had fallen. how they would be next.

that would normally be the case— but right now danny had something else on his mind. he went into stealth mode once he was at a safe distance from steve, following the scratch marks you had unknowingly left. a little trail of breads crumbs that led him right to you. you crouched in front of a generator, your hands busy with fixing the wired mess the laid inside the machine.

his eyes were glued to you, every lingering thought of the trial slipping through his mind. he couldn’t focus, not when you sat there looking absolutely gorgeous as the moonlight illuminated your face. your soft skin, long lashes, kissable lips and gentle smile—

yeah, he was obsessed.

did you spill a love potion over his head when you weren’t looking? cast witch craft over him? why was his heart pounding so loud? you needed to go. he couldn’t work properly with your pretty face sitting there innocently.

he straightened his posture to lunge at you, but his legs didn’t move. he couldn’t do it. who the hell were you? and why were you so hell bent on taking his breath away?

he had just met you and you were already ruining his life, to his utter dismay. you were taunting his thoughts and distracting him from his goal— sacrificing you all. he groans and starts to walk off, looking for another survivor to stalk and kill. he wouldn’t find any pleasure in downing you. he didn’t know why, but it was something about your pretty face.

he decides on just snapping a few quick shots. he grasps ahold of his camera and positions it at the best possible angle, catching your perfect sweet face and pretty hair, catching how you’re so focused on the generator. the camera shuttle makes a quick flash and catches your attention, but as you turn quickly to find the source he’s already gone, stalking and creeping up on his next victim.

he finds you later, cluelessly walking around the map in search for hatch. he ponders over what he should do with you for a minute. he can either kill you and get it over with, or have some fun with you and eventually give you hatch.

a long few seconds pass of him tapping his chin in thought before he finds himself behind you, peeking you. he lungs forward, arms out, giggling.

“BOO!” he screeched in your ear. your reaction is exactly what he wanted; you immediately scream and stumble forward, falling face down onto the dirt. he almost cringes as he sees you look up at him with a terrified expression, pretty face covered in mud.

“a-ah! oh my god—“ you stammer over your words, not really knowing what to say as you crawl back, frantically patting dirt off your bottom. it was one of your first trials and you had never seen this cloaked man before. your doe eyes scan him, breath quivering, brows furrowing in confusion.

“..you.. you look… like a halloween mascot.” you frown. your fists clench at your sides, standing up and shuffling further from him.

he stares at you blankly from behind his eye holes, unsure on how to respond.

“i’m not a mascot, sweetheart. i’m the killer.” he narrows his eyes at you, making a stabby motion with his hunting knife. you flinch, blinking rapidly. you were too cute, gosh.

“i mean, i know, but like, i would see you at a spirit halloween or something, y’know?” you say hesitantly, stepping up. his eyes gauge out of his sockets as you grow closer. why were you getting closer to him? were you stupid? did you hit your head when you fell?

“what are you doing.“ he stares at you with a confused expression. his cheeks can’t help but flush as you step so close your nose is centimeters away from his chest, your eyes looking at him up and down in awe. it was like you met your hero, your pupils filled with a childish excitement. he almost wants to pet you.

“inspecting you.” you mumble gently, looking at his robe closely. you peer behind him at the floating ribbons attached to the back of his outfit. you reach a hand out to touch one and it immediately moves away, somehow. your lips gape in surprise and curiosity.

“they move by themselves!” you say excitedly.

he’s seconds away from killing you. well, that’s what he tells himself. but deep down he knows if he saw a single scratch on you he’d go insane.

“mmm, yeah. entity did it herself. shows our connection, i guess? favoritism is a funny thing.” he snickers.

“what’s an entity?”

he sighs.

it’s been a few weeks for you since that encounter with the robed man. you’ve seen him every now and then maybe, occasionally getting paired with him. for some reason you always find yourself getting hatch those trials even though in every other trial you’re in you brutally die.

your skill set.. isn’t very good. some of the other survivors aren’t the nicest to you and it sucks. they keep a distance from you, their eyes always glued to your back and whispering snarky remarks. you could hear their voices but you didn’t do anything about it, not having the courage.

one trial you’re paired with, so far, steve. you haven’t seen anyone else yet. you’re working on a generator with him when he suddenly messes it up, causing it to explode in his face. his expression drops and he groans, glancing at you with a flash of anger.

“god damn it, you messed me up!”

you blink stupidly at him, pointing at yourself with a ‘who, me?’ look.

he narrows his eyes further, about to yell at you before something white flashes behind you in a bush. his eyes widen immediately and he knows who the killer is, he’s dealt with this manic so many times that his ears have adapted to immediately notice the sound of his robe wrinkling in the wind. the sound of the shutter was a dead give away as well.

he rushes off without another word, leaving you to ‘die’. well, that’s what he thinks.

danny scoffs from his position in the bush, watching one of his favorite victims scurry off like a wimp, leaving you for your supposed end. he stands to his full height and tucks his knife in, walking up to your figure that hasn’t even noticed him yet, still innocently working at the generator.

“boo.” he whispers in your ear, cackling lowly at how you flinch and cause the generator to explode in your face. you stumble back against his legs, your butt on the floor. you look up and are met with his shrieking mask looking down at you, tilting his head silently.

you immediately relax at the familiar sight of the man.

“danny, you scared me.” you frown, getting up, patting dirt off your butt. he watches, hoping one day he could help you pat away the dirt without freaking you out if his hand accidentally drifts too close to your pretty parts.

“didn’t mean to, doll. you look cute when you’re concentrated. like a lil’ piggy.” he grins.

“did you just call me a pig?” you make a face.

“no, it was a black christmas reference.” his eye twitches.

the rest of the match goes smoothly. smoothly for danny, that is. all your friends die by his hands, getting their bodies stabbed several times with a camera blinding them in their last few seconds before they drift off. he’s in a cocky mood now, high on the feeling of getting a 3k.

it would of been a 4k if you weren’t there, but he’d rather force himself into an hour long conversation with steve then see you bleeding and choking on your own blood.

he’s following behind you closely, practically rubbing against you as you search for hatch. he hums gently in your ear, his hands tugging at your shirt from behind, wanting your attention. you could feel the pout he had on his face.

“you’ve been walking in circles, sweets. this is the third time we’ve passed shack.” he muses, tucking your head under his chin, cuddling into you from behind. you’ve become so used to his clingy nature and his touch that you don’t question it, instead frowning and looking around.

he was right. you had passed shack three times now. you just couldn’t find hatch for some odd reason.

“i can’t find it.” you huff with a small whiney tone. he smiles and squeezes you against him, making grabby motions at your tummy a little.

“we don’t need to be in such a rush, y’know. time ain’t a thing here.” he practically seduces you, leaning so his mouth would be next to your ear if it weren’t for his mask, his voice sending goosebumps down your back. his hands play with the hem of your shirt.

“what do you mean? the hatch is waiting for me, and it’s cold here. i wanna be back at the campfire.” you mutter.

he scoffs at that, hiding his subtle hurt. he decides not to take offense, remembering you were too sweet and dumb to realize what you said was a little mean.

“i could warm you up. c’mon, follow me, pleaseee?” he says, a hidden intention underneath his words.

you sigh, giving in reluctantly. he giggles excitedly and tugs you alongside him like a child, pulling(dragging) you with him to the shack.

when he said he wanted to warn you up, you didn’t think that would mean you in his lap with his hand shoved under your skirt. he was knuckle deep in your pussy, gently abusing your g spot as he soothes and shushes your cries. your moans were so pretty to him, like a rhythmical tune persuading him to push deeper and deeper.

“shh, shh, i’ve gotcha’ baby, you’re sooo wet.” he giggles the last few words, thrusting his fingers in and out faster and faster. you’re legs flail around weakly, your back flush to his chest. as his thick fingers delve deeper you can do nothing but cry out his name, head leaning back against his shoulder with your eyes squeezed shut.

“d-danny! please— gentle— gentle—“ you’re practically shaking in his grasp and he thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. your eyes fluttered shut, glassy tears welling up in the corner, lips tugging into an adorable pout in a weak attempt to conceal your moans..

“i am being gentle, silly baby.” he mocks you by fastening his pace, stripping you of more noises. you sound like a broken record at this point. whimpering over and over again for him, letting out barely coherent words. your limbs are flailing around as you try to grasp onto him, afraid you’ll collapse if he continues. he hums along to your soft cries, his gloved thumb brushing against your clit.

you gasp softly into the air as you feel your clit get brushed against, the bundle of nerves reacting by clamping down around his thick fingers. he coo’d into your ear, mumbling sweet nothings; he repositions his hand so one is focusing on rubbing against your g spot nice and deep inside you, his other hand wrapped around to rub your clit.

the double stimulation makes your eyes roll back, words getting caught on the tip of your tongue. your pussy clenches down hard and he can already tell you’re drifting over the edge. he hugs you tighter and quickens his pace, nuzzling the plastic of his mask into your hair.

“shhh, c’mon, you’ve got it, ruin my gloves with that messy cunt of yours.” he whispers, watching with his dark eyes as your pussy spasms and coats the fabric of his gloves with your cum. your orgasm drips down his fingers, still shoved deep inside you, gently swirling it around teasingly.

“good girl. let’s get you cleaned up and on your way to hatch, yeah?”

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda)/ Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; Billy Lenz, mentions of violence and general slasher activity, kidnapping, stalking

♡ notes; i didn’t include Bubba last time, so i slipped him in with the pt 2 team :v

also for ghostface i went with Danny over Billy + Stu, just because i’m more comfortable writing older characters tbh. and he’s very attractive to me. maybe i can do a college au fic of them in the future?

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> you were lost

> utterly, hopelessly lost without a map, compass, or even your backpack

> you were out camping with a couple of new friends when you wandered off to pick flowers

> well, acquaintances more like- they weren’t particularly nice to you, but you knew one from your home town

> before you knew the sun was starting to set and you had no clue which way to go

> you’re kicking yourself for being so dumb but try to make the best of it, continuing to collect flowers and pretty rocks

> soon enough you find yourself on the edge of a lake

> that couldn’t have been good- there weren’t any lakes near the campsite at all

> maybe this was that old summer camp they’d mentioned?

> either way you turn around and try your best to retrace your steps

> but even with a full moon it’s just too dark and too dense and you’re exhausted

> holding in tears, you find a small meadow and finally sit to rest

> you’re still sniffling and rubbing your eyes when someone walks up to you

> you were so oblivious that Jason was able to get a few feet in front of you before you noticed

> he seems…perplexed to find you there

> he thought he’d gotten all of the campers

> and you didn’t really look like you belonged with those fornicators

> (or at least that’s what he told himself to justify leaving you alive)

> he’s holding his machete and soaked with your companions’ blood, but you don’t seem to notice

> “…can you take me back to my friends?”

> well he most certainly cannot do that, not if he wants you to like him- though he’s not sure why that matters

> he’s still staring so you, exhausted, do the only thing you can think to

> “…do you want a flower? I picked a lot”

> he’s delighted and takes it before finally gesturing for you to follow him

> you can’t keep up, so eventually he picks you up

> and like that you’re nearly dozing off

> you don’t even notice he’s taking you back the way you came from

> and he’s glad- he wasn’t going to give you much of an option anyway

Bo Sinclair

> single travelers are so much easier to deal with

> so when Lester gives him the call that some college kid was stuck on the road, he’s eager for an easy catch

> you take your sweet ass time getting to the station- even though Lester drove you most of the way you let him drop you off just outside of town

> the smell of the truck was really getting to you, and you’re happy to let the dog lead you

> when he strides out you’re cooing over Jonesy and giving her a belly rub for her troubles

> he’s seen his fair share of attractive victims

> men, women, and folks that didn’t fit either category

> and he’s slept with most of them

> but you… there’s something extra special about you

> he decides right there he’s not taking care of you without at least getting a taste

> you’re not too impressed by his flirting- or at least you try and act like it

> but he catches your pink cheeks and quiet giggles as he takes you on a walk

> because of course he’s got the part down the road at his place

> by the time you get there he’s decided he’s marrying you - or maybe keeping you tied up, beggars can’t be choosers

> he’s impulsive but he’s never wanted to keep anyone before

> “hey sugar-“ god your face heats up just hearing him call you that “turns out I don’t have that part you need. It should be in by tomorrow, if you can stay the night?”

> you say yes before you can think critically- he’s good at getting folks wrapped around his finger like that

> “Good. Cause I’m just dying to show you some real southern hospitality…”

Danny Johnson

> he knows you long before you know him

> he’s a natural nosy guy- he’s a journalist after all

> and a serial killer, of course stalking is on his to do list

> originally you were going to be a victim

> you’d make a good story, a young person taken tragically early

> but you were too cute to die just yet- he had to at least meet you, just once

> if you were a dick no one would say anything nice for your article, right?

> so he just happens to bump into you outside your work one day

> literally bump

> when you spill coffee all over yourself he smoothly apologizes and offers to help clean you up

> “What a mess- I’m so sorry sweets. Let me take care of all this”

> and you fall for it, hook line and sinker

> he’s a handsome guy, he’s used to that but he’s smug anyways

> he gives you a spare shirt of his, though you still skip work

> he buys you another coffee and you sit in his car chatting

> you’re innocent enough to trust him like that- to get in a vehicle with a strange man?

> a strange man that’d been stalking you, no less

> it’s adorable- if he wasn’t so attached he could kill you right there

> but you’re just so damn sweet, and genuine

> and you’re so fascinated by these Ghost Face killings…

> maybe you’re worth keeping around for a bit

> just a bit

> that’s what he says to himself anyways

> when you meet him as Ghost Face, it’s after you’ve already got him all figured out

> and he’s lucky that you like a bad boy

Billy Lenz

> it’s a given that you first meet him over the phone

> you’re renting out a spare room from Mrs Mac, not in the sorority but a good enough tenant that she keeps you around

> you get along well with the girls and cook them meals, run study sessions and help clean

> it’s almost parental at times, even if you’re not far off in age

> Billy hates you at first, for taking such good care of ‘filthy piggy whores’

> he tells you just as much over the phone, but you’re not bothered

> you never seem to be bothered by his calls

> and that pisses him off more

> but you’re so so cute… it quickly becomes an obsession

> he’s in your walls constantly, watching you

> and the calls from the moaner start coming more and more frequently at times you’re home alone

> one day you just start giggling at him, tipsy “you know, you scare the girls,”

> “good i—“

> “but your voice is sooo nice. that’s why i pick up so much”

> you didn’t mean to confess that , and you hope he takes it as an awkward joke

> when he hangs up you think that maybe he did take it that way

> its not until late that night that you realize that he knew he was sincere

> before you can register that there’s anything wrong he’s covering your mouth and pinning you to your bed

> “hi there, baby doll,”

> his grin gets huge when your still horrified face goes bright red

> he always knew you were perfect

Bubba Sawyer

> you pick up Nubbins hitchhiking one day, and he’s just dumbfounded by you

> you’re nonplussed by his rambling and you don’t squirm at his yucky pictures. you don’t even kick him out, just drop him off at the gas station.

> you’re not really his type, but you’re fascinating

> he’s gotta get you home to meet his brothers

> so he pops your tires when you go inside- all four

> when you come back out Drayton is cursing him out and smacking him upside the head

> he makes him take you back to the house to rest up while he gets you tires

> of course he intends for Bubba to kill you

> but Nubbins doesn’t pass the message along, because he’s Nubbins

> “Here Bubba! I made us a new friend!”

> you shyly greet him, but he’s an oddly calming presence

> let’s be honest you’ve gotta be okay with a lot fast to like the Sawyers

> so maybe you’re just in denial about the material

> but you tell him you like his mask- and you do

> he obviously worked really hard on getting the makeup just right- and it compliments his suit

> he stares at you a long while before taking your hand and giving you a grand tour

> well, more a tour of his favorite spots

> the chicken coup, a patch of wildflowers out back, and his room full of trinkets collected from victims

> you’re strangely enamored by this big, quiet man

> and you don’t get the sense you’re allowed to leave

> especially when Drayton comes home and goes on and on about witnesses

> but you didn’t really even have an end goal in mind on your road trip anyways

> and now you’ve got Bubba to protect you

> maybe it’s not so bad, stuck with those weirdos

[apollodarling-writes]

Babycakes can you pretty please write a male y/n x yan!ghostface where y/n doesn’t die in the end and lowkey falls in love 🤭 (also pretty please make ghostface a praiser 🙏🏽)

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

yan! dbd! ghostface x gen jockey! male! reader

cws : yandere themes, a bit of dry humping, praise, creampie, choking, rough sex, kinda ?? handjob (reader receiving), orgasm control, knife play, anal, pronebone, dubcon??? , mentions of public masturbation, thigh fucking, danny is a tease, reader cleans his blood off of the bowie so blood play but ingestion??? , cum eating i guess but the reader is made to clean up his cum from danny’s gloves.

the fog that hung between the trees was particularly thick this trial. the red forest was known for being hard to navigate in some areas due to the low lighting, and the natural fog scattered throughout the landscape was of no help either. you were unsure if one of the survivors offered the entity a bottle of murky reagent, but it had become harder to see than it already was. you suppose you couldn’t complain as it made you harder to track, and thus it was easier to hide.

your group had completed two generators without a single person being hooked. anxiety knotted your stomach as you mulled over what the killer was up to. was the killer waiting for your group to finish the generators and then camp the gates? were they watching from the shadows and getting some sort of sick pleasure from watching the lot of you squirm? the answer to these questions was beyond your reach, and you knew that all you could do was focus on the task at hand. if you struck the wires too early, you would blow up the generator and the killer would surely know your location if they didn’t already.

a chill runs the length of your spine, gooseflesh raising the hairs on your body. you stop repairing the generator for a moment, the feeling of being watched prevalent as your swivel your head to find the source of the gaze. you’d been in this realm long enough to abide by your instincts. your gaze flits through the trees, your heart thumping in your chest as you are unable locate the source. chalking it up to the quietness of the trial, you busy your hands with firing the wires of the generator, successfully sparking one portion. you sift through your toolbox, searching through old and rusted scraps for something to replace one of the broken parts.

a hand suddenly grips the back of your neck, hoisting you off the ground. a hand muffles your cry of protest, bending your front over the generator.

“shhh… just be quiet now, baby.” a muffled voice all but pants, their chest pressing against your back as they lean forward to whisper in your ear. “i’ve finally got you to myself….”

you recognize that voice — the ghostface. realization washes over you; the quietness of the trial, feeling watched, the lack of a terror radius…. it all made sense now. your tongue darts out to lick the leathery material of his gloved palm in a feeble attempt to get him to release you.

“be patient now,” the ghostface groans, “we’ll get there, pretty boy.”

the ghostface maneuvers his fingers to grip your wrists, pinning them behind your back while grinding his half-hard cock into the meat of your ass. you squirm at his touch, feeling disgusted at the desperate panting the man behind you let out.

“i know you’ve been thinking about this,” the masked man grunts, his breath hitching. “i’ve seen you fuck yourself in trials before — did’ya think i wouldn’t know?”

shame and embarrassment wash over you, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as a hand snakes around to palm you through your bottoms. “n—not here… please—“

“god, look at how cute you are,” the ghostface coos, his gloved hand slipping past your waistband and cupping your length. “keep begging like that and i won’t be able to control myself.”

“i’m not—“

“ah-ah, quiet now… don’t you wanna be good for me, baby?” he purrs, your hips bucking as his thumb brushes against your cockhead. ”mmm, so sensitive. i think im gonna have fun with you…”

the ghostface’s hand tugs down your pants, your protests going unheard as you hear his robes shift. his cock slides between your thighs — the intrusion unwelcome and unfamiliar.

“stop… i cant — we can’t… not here.” you panic, your gaze flitting through the areas you could see. god forbid any of the other survivors witness this and get the wrong idea. you’d be considered a fucking traitor. maybe they’d even think you were selling them out. or, shit, what if they thought you were slutting yourself out to survive?

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, his cock brushing against your shaft. “just sit there and look pretty for me, ‘kay?”

your mouth immediately closes, figuring it would be better to just let him have his way and hopefully all five gens will be done by the time he finishes. your body is tense with shame and guilt, your thighs clenched around the masked man’s length in an attempt to get him off faster.

the ghostface spits in his hand, wrapping his fingers around you again, and pumps you in time with each thrust. with each movement, you find yourself melting into his touch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. he was too good at this, and he fucking knew.

“y’like that, baby?” you could hear the smirk in his tone.

“fuck you.“ you grit out, hating that you were becoming aroused at such an invasive, disgusting act.

“oh, i plan to, little bunny.”

the masked man removes his hand just as you were on the cusp of your orgasm, a soft whine leaving your lips. your cockhead is flushed an angry red, beads of precum now smeared along your shaft. “why’d you—“

you suck in a breath as a finger slowly dips into your ass, curling into your g-spot. the feeling was foreign, and it hurt like a bitch, but fuck did it feel good. “yeah? just like that, pretty boy?”

he slowly pumps his finger, careful not to hurt you as he works up to another one; his fingers scissor and stretch, curling into your prostate. before you knew it, the man had gotten three fingers in you, your legs shaking and your whimpers increasing in volume as you come closer and closer to your climax.

“fuck — ‘m gonna cum.” you pant, your back arching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. through a lust-induced haze, you hear a faint chuckle before the sensation you crave eludes you. the ghostface removes his digits, your cock twitching and aching for release.

“oh, you poor thing. were you gonna cum?” the man murmurs teasingly, his own erection throbbing beneath the layers of his robes. he eagerly grips the back of your neck and ushers you on your stomach behind the generator, lifting his clothing just enough to carefully push inside of you.

“y’so fuckin’ tight..!” he hisses, releasing your wrists to press down on your lower back. your fingers find purchase in the dirt of the forest floor as the ghostface slowly thrusts into you, your gummy walls hugging the man’s cock so deliciously.

with each thrust, you found it harder and harder to control your volume. with the way the man had angled himself, the tip of his cock bumped against your g-spot damn near constantly. your stomach tightened as your release began to approach once more, desperate whimpers and whines leaving your lips as tears pricked your eyes.

“i’m gonna cum – ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum…” you whine, “please, i need more!”

the killer groans in ecstacy at your desperation, his cock twitching inside of you as one hand wraps around your throat, lifting you from the dirt. “gonna have to fuck you more often, yeah? youre doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

his digits tighten around your throat, cutting off your air supply as your jaw slackens at the brutal pace. a gurgled moan parts your lips, your face growing red from the lack of oxygen. mercifully, he releases his grip on you, but is quick it with the cold steel of his bowie knife.

the ghostface snakes an arm around your midsection, pumping your cock in time with each mind-numbing thrust. you hold yourself up as the blade trails along your flesh, drawing thin lines of blood. it seemed that the man was getting off on the pain he inflicted, his thrust becoming harder, faster.

the blade trails up, pressing against your lips. “open up, baby. gotta clean up your mess.” the ghostface breathily groans, his thrusts growing sloppy.

your lips part, the blade resting on your tongue as your lips close around it. it tastes like iron, your own blood coating your tongue as your cock twitches in the killer’s fist. ropes of cum spill onto the leather of your assailant’s glove, a long moan erupting from your throat as your vision blurs with tears. your hips buck into his grasp, the killer never once stopping. your mind melts into a delicious quiet, the only thing you’re able to focus on is how fucking good it feels.

“fuck — you feel so fucking good, bunny.” he groans, sheathing his blade and replacing it with the cum stained leather. “be a good boy and clean off my glove, yeah?”

the killer pants as you mindlessly obey his order, the bitter taste seemingly only serving to arouse you further. you lap at the cum on his glove while the killer fucks into you with fervor, breathy groans leaving him as the chill of his mask presses into your shoulder. the ghostface weakly thrusts into you as his climax washes over him. his cock twitches inside of you, cum painting your insides as he slowly comes down from his high.

the man is quick to fix his attire as the exit gate sounds, leaving you breathless as cum drips down your thighs, the scent of dirt and sex staining your clothing. with shaky legs, you pull up your bottoms and quietly mull over what just happened as you make your way to the exit gate on the opposite side of the map.

[gor3-hound]

lacerated to the bone

ft. danny johnson as ghostface x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, masked men, stalking, photography, heavy dub-con, knife play, coercion, choking, blood, threats, predator/prey play, fear play, major character death, p in v, creampie

a/n: requested by anon! hope it lives up to the idea you had, bcs i had so much fun writing this one !! title from 'a life less ordinary(need a little help)' by motion city soundtrack

word count: 2.1k words

“Come on… come on.” You say under your breath as you work at the generator, your heart rabbiting in your chest. You're looking over your shoulder every few seconds, trying to make sure that the killer isn't on your trail. You did your best to save the others from the entity, but you'd failed. You were all alone now. You had to survive.

You can't shake the feeling that he's watching you. There's an eerie silence around you, the only sounds coming from the generator you're working on. The final one. You let out a deep breath as you look away again, but your fingers falter, and the sounds of the generator failing echo throughout the forest.

“No, no, no…” You say quickly, perking up to examine your surroundings, hoping that you hadn't alerted the killer. You curl up behind the generator, waiting for a few moments as you try to listen out for any movement. The minutes that stretch by feel like hours, but there's no sign of him.

You let out a deep breath, standing up before you lean over to work on the generator again. Before you can get started, you feel a finger tap your shoulder. You turn around quickly, coming face to face with a camera. You hear the click of the shutter, and then a bright light flashes that ends up blinding you for a few seconds.

You blink rapidly to clear the spots from your vision, stumbling back. You knew who it was. It could only be one person. You needed to get out of here, and fast. When your vision finally refocuses, you're left face to face with Ghostface. The mask tilts to the side as he cocks his head, his voice husky and slightly crackly from the vocal modulator as he speaks.

“Boo.”

You're running before your brain can even register the movement. You do your best to escape, weaving through dilapidated structures to try and lose him. At every chance you got, you sent wooden palettes tumbling in narrow spaces, keeping a mental note of where you'd cut off the path, hoping to slow him down.

At this point, the chase had become a matter of stamina rather than technique. It was clear the killer wasn't going to let you go, barely letting you out of his sight for more than a few seconds before he was on your tail again. You knew better than to hide, but you were running out of options. Your breathing was becoming laboured, and your legs burned from the chase. You knew you didn't have much of a chance - he was stronger, faster and smarter than you.

It was all down to luck. Your eyes flick over the treeline rapidly - it's a bit far out from the generators and the exit, but it was your best chance of staying concealed. The feeling of being watched irks you once again, causing you to stop and try to find the source.

It's quiet. Too quiet. All you can hear is the sounds of your own breathing. For a moment, you almost feel like you've lost him. That is until you hear a sound that's becoming far too familiar for your liking.

Click!

You turn to try and run again, but a gloved hand wraps around your ankle, yanking you into the underbrush. You cry out as the branches scratch the skin that's exposed as he drags you towards him.

“An image is worth a thousand words, don't you think?” A voice echoes from behind the mask, his free hand shifting to press down on your chest to keep you flat on the ground as he pins your legs down with his knees. With his other hand, he snaps a few pictures of your fearful expression with a beaten down looking film camera.

“Can't wait to get these developed… add them to the collection.” He adds after a moment, placing it down carefully so he can reach for the knife he had tucked in his belt. “I think I like this look on you…”

“Please…” You croak out weakly, your voice wavering as he trails the tip of the blade down your cheek and along your jawbone. “Please, don't.”

“Oh? Already begging for your life?” He coos, patting the flat of the blade against your cheek a few times. He presses the tip of the knife against your cheek, placing just enough pressure to nick the skin. “You're in luck. See, I don't normally play with my designs, but…”

He slides the tip of the knife down your skin, applying pressure when it reaches the hollow of your throat. The mask tilts down, and you can almost sense the sick satisfaction from him as he watches your blood trickle out with every panicked breath you make.

“Well, you're different. I've been watching you for a while. I wanted this to be special; the kind of headlines that people don't forget.” He leans down slightly, and you can feel his gaze boring through you despite the mask obscuring his features.

“Anyway, look at me getting all sidetracked. You poor thing, you keep shaking. I hope that's not on account of me?” He mocks, holding the knife to your throat to keep you from making any attempts to escape. “My apologies. I've always been one for a good story. And you, my dear? I feel you'll be my best one yet. I have a… proposition for you.”

“Please, just stop. I won't say anything… I swear! Just let me go I… I was so close, please!” You sob, raising your hands to try and push him off of you, as if that'd do any good. You wriggle underneath him, ring to give yourself a chance to break free and escape his grasp.

“You see, I'd love to do that. Really, I would. There's just one small issue.” With that, he loosely nods his head towards one of the hooks not far from you. “See, I could let you go, but that wouldn't be in my best interests… now, if you want to make it worth my while…”

He trails off, dropping his head down so his mask is looming directly over your face. He presses the knife down harder, drawing blood as the sharp edge digs into the skin of your throat. “Either you give me what I want, or I'll gut you and offer you up to the Entity. It's simple, really.”

Your stomach sinks at his words. There's no mistaking his intentions. The mask is tilted towards you expectantly as the knife against your throat is replaced by his tight grip. He trails his blade down, hiking your skirt up with the tip of it.

You nod. What other choice did you have? It was this, or die. You couldn't die here. You won't.

“There we go. Good girl.” He says as he removes his grip on your throat to pat your cheek, slipping the knife in between the top of your thigh and the edge of your panties. You tense as he pulls the fabric taut with the blade until it splits. You shiver as the cold metal brushes right above your folds, sliding the fabric out of the way to expose you to his greedy eyes.

You squirm underneath him as he runs the flat of his blade downwards, trying not to jerk your hips as he brushes past your clit, a small whimper falling from your lips. He smacks the blade down a few times, landing spanks against your pussy until sticky strings of arousal connect you to his knife.

“Filthy little thing.” He hums, pulling his knife away to drag a gloved finger between your folds. “Making such a mess. To think, I was planning to wet my knife in a very different way.”

You watch with a mix of arousal and horror as he shucks off the cloak, exposing the black jeans and t-shirt he wore underneath. He keeps that mask on. Seems to enjoy the way you shiver whenever your eyes land on it. He manages to unbuckle his belt one-handed with little struggle, the clink of the metal echoing in the air for a few moments.

He drops the knife down to free his cock and hold it in his right hand. His left hand slides its way up your body, squeezing one of your tits before his hand trails higher, gripping your throat once more. Just to be safe. He smacks his tip against your clit a few times, clearly enjoying the way it has you jolting. Your cunt gushes as he ruts against your sensitive nub, drawing a moan from your lips.

He slides his cock down until the head catches your hole. With a grunt, he pushes forward, filling you to the brim. He throws his head back, his chest rising and falling visibly with his rapid breaths.

“Christ, doll. Didn't think you'd be this wet.” He hisses through gritted teeth. He drops his head forward again, watching your expression carefully through the mask. The tone of his voice sends heat pooling in your lower abdomen, air leaving you in a breathless sigh.

His thrusts are shallow and desperate. He barely pulls out before slamming back in, not wanting to leave the tight heat surrounding him longer than necessary. Each thrust brings a whimper from his lips. Hastily, he reaches a hand out to grab his camera, the one resting on your throat squeezing down just enough to have you gasping in a breath, your cunt clenching tighter around his cock.

“Oh!” He moans, his hand shaking as he snaps a few pictures of his cock sliding in and out of you, the length coated in a layer of clear slick. “God, that's so tight. You like it when I squeeze your throat, huh?”

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, slightly breathless. He tightens his grip on your throat a little more as he speeds up his thrusts, fucking into you with a more brutal pace, his cock bullying your cervix with every movement. Blood rushes to your head as he pounds the air out of you while leaving you unable to suck more air in due to him choking you. You start to get light headed, your vision growing spotty and blurry with unshed tears. As your eyelids begin to flutter, he lets go and you're quickly sucking in deep breaths, your chest heaving.

“Ah, sorry, darling.” He forces out, sounding absolutely wrecked. He drops the camera to hold your hips in both of his hands, pulling you back on his cock with enough force that you're sure you'd be littered in finger shaped bruises. His balls slap against your ass with every heavy movement.

“Oh, can't wait to get these pictures all done. Gonna build a whole shrine for you, dolly. Such a pretty thing.” He reaches down to pinch and tug at your clit before rubbing circles into it with his thumb. He's too rough, and you're already so sensitive. Your body twitches, whines spilling from your lips as you cum, back arching and dragging along the dirt as you clench around his cock.

“W-wait… gotta… gotta get a picture, fuck.” He croaks, flipping you over onto your stomach. He grabs your hair in one fist, yanking your head back painfully as he sinks his cock back into you, making you cry out. He snaps a couple of pictures of him buried deep inside of you, aiming the camera mostly at your fucked out, tear-stained face.

“Fuck… fuck. Coming…” He manages to choke out, the sensation of your walls squeezing him enough to milk his cock. He drops his head down to the crook of your neck, the material of the mask jarring your heated skin. “Shit.”

He drops the camera again, his hand fumbling with something in the thick brush. In the corner of your eye, you see a glint of metal in the moonlight, causing you to flail in panic, scratching at the ground and trying to fight him off.

“You promised!” You yell, trying to scramble out from underneath him as you realise what he’s about to do. “You said you'd let me go! Please… I did what you asked!”

Your eyes widen with fear - wet and panicked as he lifts the knife up, plunging it deep into the side of your neck. Blood bubbles up in your throat, making you cough and splutter as the excruciating pain shocks your core.

“Sorry, doll. Honest. I know I said I'd let you go, but, well…” He yanks the knife out, and your body convulses as you try desperately to suck breath into your failing lungs.

“A good story always needs a twist.”

[golden-boy-of-the-gazette]

Danny canonically forgets to eat.

Whether he actually gives a damn about you and actually cares about you or not he still is thankful to have you around to remind him.

If you cook for him then it's even better. Gets mildly annoyed if you interrupt him while hes working to give him a plate of food but then upon seeing food his body will remind him that he hadn't eaten and his anger will immediately subside.

If you cant cook? Thats fine too. You guys get take out more often than you would like to admit. Sit on the couch and eat together while watching whatever movie you two had decided on. More often than not he will fall asleep in the middle of the movie. His stomach is full, hes been working all day, comfortable on the couch and he is clonking out. Snores pretty loud though. It's a struggle to get him to get up and be awake enough to make it to the bed. He will probably sleep in his work clothes on accident. May even just give in and insist on sleeping on the couch because he doesnt feel like moving.

[scvrmqueen]

Tag, You’re It - Danny Johnson

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — one-shot.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — Danny Johnson x afab!reader.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — SMUT! dubious consent, descriptions of gore, vaginal sex, use of knife handle for penetration, dirty talk, unprotected sex, no aftercare, Danny is literally his own warning. 

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 2,982.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ I got this idea after listening to Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez. Takes place during Dead by Daylight. I don’t own the rights to Danny or DBD. You’re just trying to survive another trial when Danny proposes a little game. 

“Oh, you were so close, kitten!” A mirthless chuckle slipped from the macabre figure perched above you, his hips pinning you to the frigid earth. Your struggles had promptly ceased once his steel blade found purchase against your throat. 

“And to think, one more step and you would have been home free,” he tsked, blade digging further into your sensitive flesh to reveal a crimson stream. “Didn’t know you could be so cruel, kitten, trying to leave me on my lonesome without so much as a goodbye kiss.” 

“Fuck you, Danny,” you spat, glaring into the shadowy abyss of black fabric that concealed his eyes. “Kill me and be done with it, I’m sick of playing your fucked up games.” 

An audible gasp sounded beneath the foreboding mask, a gloved hand - the one not preoccupied with mutilating you - covering his heart in feigned shock. “Y/n you wound me! Where’s your fighting spirit, huh? C’mon, I know you have that ‘I’ll go out kicking and screaming’ final girl mentality.” 

You were mere feet from a successful trial, sparing a glance toward the cement hatch. What anger bubbled in your chest was steadily replaced with fatigue, an overwhelming sense of feebleness rendering your fight or flight instinct futile. You pressed your scorched fingertips into the dirt beneath you. A shaky breath pierced through pursed lips, frustrated tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you realized just how close you had been to besting the Ghost Face. 

“Aw, doll. You’re so pretty when you cry for me,” Danny cooed, his blade smearing blood on your cheek as it moved to collect the pearly drops. “Tell you what, I’m feeling generous. Play one last little game with yours truly, and I’ll let you have the hatch.” 

Mouth agape, you waited for the inevitable ‘ha, gotcha’ moment. When Danny remained silent - a phenomena in itself, you finally responded, “what game?”

“Atta girl.” He lowered his head until cheap plastic scraped your cheek, his faux mouth resting by your ear. Leather and copper flooded your senses, head reeling at the intimacy of his proximity. “You’re familiar with tag, aren’t you, doll?” 

You scoffed, “tag?” 

“That’s what I said, Y/n.” You could feel the deep chuckle rumble through his chest. “Try to keep up, sweet thing, you’re smarter than that. Now, if I catch you - and we both know I will - I get to do whatever I want with you.” 

“But you won’t kill me?” The question was more breathless than you intended. Whatever he wanted? Your cooperation was founded on the promise of making it out alive. Still, you couldn’t help but hesitate. If Danny’s intention wasn’t to give you to the entity, what did he want? 

“Cross my heart hope to die, kitten.” His words dripped with deranged glee, the rough edge to his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll even give you a ten second head start, being the generous fella I am.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Get the hell off me so we can get this over with.” 

“There’s the Y/n I know and love.” A leather clad hand wrapped around your throat, using the leverage to drag you to your feet. You reluctantly complied, attempting to ignore the traitorous heat that pooled in your abdomen. 

You sprinted in the opposite direction the moment he released you. 

Aside from a guaranteed win, this game hardly differed from the demented reality of every trial. You were perpetually haunted by that damned mask - led to slaughter each time the sanctity of the campfire was torn away. Unlike your counterparts, your penchant for fighting back had earned Danny’s favor from day one. His insatiable obsession blossomed during your first trial, when you drove a jagged plank through his abdomen. 

Had you predicted he would save you for last each trial, you wouldn’t have been so damn heroic. 

Your lungs burned, legs aching as your pace gradually relented. You spared a glance over your shoulder to determine Danny’s proximity. Though momentarily relieved to be greeted by empty darkness, his absence ultimately proved equally troubling. Ghost Face was synonymous with stealth, often remaining undetected until his signature hunting blade was buried deep in your gut. It was impossible to determine where he prowled now. 

Haddonfield offered little room to be chased. Eventually, you would have to loop back to the hatch in order to escape, a feat which would require you to pass through the decrepit homes. Though entering structures always proved to be a precarious gamble, remaining on the street much longer practically ensured your capture. 

You bypassed the first few houses you passed with the intention of throwing Danny off your trail. Zig-zagging through abandoned vehicles, you staggered toward the Myers residence in hopes of a momentary reprieve. Hiding in the abandoned building was futile - Danny had prompted a game of tag after-all. The moment you ceased moving he would be there, his merciless shadows ensnaring you. You prayed slipping through the rooms undetected would buy you some time. 

Pausing briefly upon entering, you attempted to regulate your rapid breathing in order to detect his presence. Satisfied, you darted into the kitchen to grab a butcher’s knife from the familiar wooden block. Danny hadn’t specified rules regarding self defense - his mistake. Should the occasion arise, you fully intended on making grabbing you a hellish feat. 

No sooner had you grabbed the knife did a familiar dark chuckle sound from the doorway to the porch. You turned slowly towards the culprit, as if minor movements would shroud you from his gaze. 

“Really, bunny? The Myer’s house? Tsk, never knew you were so cliché.” Well, at least you knew where he was now. Spinning on your feet, you sprinted back toward the main entrance. Knowing Danny, the moment you stepped out onto the porch he would be there to grab you, blade against your throat and arms encircling your waist. Hesitation would cost you precious seconds, leaving you to scamper up the stairway on shaky legs. 

“Annndd going up the stairs?” His distant voice only caused you to increase your pace. “Y/n, haven’t I taught you to be better than those horror movie bimbos?”

 As you reached the room with a large opening to the roof, you couldn’t resist screaming a hearse, “Fuck you, asshole!” Once on the roof, you would slip into the backyard and make a swift exit back to the hatch. You could taste victory on your tongue, beyond pleased to have outwitted Ghost Face. 

Or at least that was the plan. 

You hadn’t planned on Danny tackling you mere feet from the roof, his imposing figure weighing heavy on your back. Thrashing beneath him proved futile. He grabbed your wrists with little resistance, pinning your arms by your head. The cold hardwood was pressed roughly against your cheek, and from the awkward angle you watched as his mask lowered to your ear. 

“Tag, you’re it.” His deep chuckle reverberated through your spine. 

“Let me up, Danny, and I’ll gladly come get you.” Clutching the butcher knife tighter, you wriggled your ass slightly in hopes of providing a momentary distraction. A throaty groan sounded above you, his hips digging further into your own. His grasp loosened, and you used your remaining strength to twist on your back. You were quick to extend the blade toward him in a punishing stab. But Danny was always quicker. 

“Feisty,” he growled, his hand encircling your wrist and slamming it to the ground with excessive force. A small yelp escaped you as the knife flew from your grasp. 

“But I think you’re forgetting the rules, kitten. Naughty girl.” You were pinned beneath him once more, glare burning through his black mesh. “Let me remind you what happens when you don’t. fucking. listen.” 

Danny shifted, capturing both your wrists in one hand, his knife skimming your waist. The cool steel scraped against your stomach as it lifted your shirt. Before you could even comprehend struggling, your hip burned with a familiar intensity. Searing pain crept up your side as Danny sliced into your sensitive flesh - a hiss escaping through clenched teeth in a poor attempt not to scream. The blade curved against you, shallow in its path but agonizing enough to demonstrate his wrath. 

“Ah, perfect!” Danny leaned back on his heels to observe his work. Your eyes drifted down to observe a jagged “D” carved into the left side of your hip. 

“You sick fuck!” You shouted, all thoughts of self preservation having dissipated. The wound would heal upon returning to the campfire, but it didn’t stop the blinding rage that permeated your senses. 

“Oh, Y/n,” he snarled, using the blade to slice through the middle of your tank-top. “You have no idea just how sick I really am.” He traced the steel around the top of your exposed breasts, humming his approval as your breath hitched. The knife slipped beneath the thin fabric in the middle of your bra, exposing your chest to his ravenous gaze. A traitorous moan slipped from your lips - a wanton sound that you attempted to disguise as disgust by struggling beneath him. 

“Danny-” his name tumbled from your throat with unintended reverence. Your voice trembled with thinly veiled desire, leaving you to pinch your lips together. You desperately hoped Danny hadn’t recognized your slip. 

“Fuck, kitten, I love it when you say my name.” His hips bore into your own with bruising pressure, forcing a haphazard squeal from you in response. Admittedly, this wasn’t the first time that you had been in a compromising position beneath the killer. While the previous instances had ended in your untimely demise, this moment whispered promises of something more - something deep-seated that you could never come back from. 

“You know, I can’t count how many times I’ve heard your screams of pain,” he muttered, the deep, guttural sound going straight to your core. “I can’t wait to hear what you sound like screaming for more.” Without further warning, his chilled, leather fingertips pushed past your denim shorts, briefly grazing the hem of your panties. 

You didn’t recognize the sound that emitted from the depths of your chest as he slid into you - facing little resistance much to your dismay. His finger curled, stimulating a part of you that hadn’t been unearthed for far too long. Dragging in and out, hitting a spot that made your vision dance with speckles of white, you couldn’t find the strength to resist his ministrations. 

“You like this, don’t you? What a dirty little girl you are, bunny.” His voice fractured your lust-fueled haze, attempting to slip your hands from his grasp as you bucked beneath him. Your resistance hardly fazed Danny, earning no more than an amused tsk as he tightened his hold. 

“Now, now, bunny. If you’re going to be naughty and not play by the rules, I’m going to have to punish you.” A wisp of fear at the promise of discipline caused your core to clench. Danny groaned as he removed his fingers completely, the sudden emptiness sobering your senses. The reprieve was short-lived, the leather previously working you replaced with the blunt handle of a familiar knife. 

“What the fuck -” Your words slipped into an unexpected cry of pleasure as the handle brushed your center with expert precision. Discomfort melded into bliss, your will to fight a distant echo in the recesses of your mind. His concept of ‘punishment’ seemed skewed, particularly as a skilled finger danced along your clit in tandem with the blade’s thrusts. Your eyes fluttered close, walls clenching with bruising force as you reached the precipice - nearly pushed over that delicious edge - 

And just as soon as sweet release had been promised, it was stolen. 

A pitiful whine escaped you as his attention ceased, robbing you of the peak you so desperately craved. Ah, punishment, indeed. 

“Ah, ah, Y/n. Only good girls get to cum.” Danny adjusted his position so his hips were once again pressed firmly between your legs. Much to your dismay, the coarse fabric of his pants caused you to grind against him - desperately searching for friction.

“I might consider being merciful and letting you cum on my cock if you beg me for it.” His deep rasp trailed into a lilting tone, teasing you - humiliating you. Even in all your torturous deaths dealt by Danny’s blade, you had never begged him to spare you. Though your hips chased his, desperate to ease the ache between your legs, you would sooner die than plead for him to fuck you. 

“You call that merciful?” You scoffed, attempting to ease the tremble in your voice. “You’re even more fucked up than I thought if you think I want you.” 

“Oh, I think you’re pretty fucked in the head yourself, kitten.” Those fingers slid between your thighs once more, gliding up your center to collect evidence of your arousal. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But see this?” He pressed the glistening leather to your lips, forcing your mouth open to taste your body’s betrayal. “This doesn’t lie.”

“So, you’re going to be a good girl, and you’re going to take everything I have to offer. Every. Last. Goddamn. Inch,” he growled, each word only fueling your thinly veiled desire. You wanted to protest - wanted to kick and scream like a good little survivor. But something within you, some deep, animalistic urge only satiated by the thrill of danger, wouldn’t permit it. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe the endless torment of fighting to survive fueled something savage - a ruinous need to be ravaged by the enemy. 

Saving you from the false pretenses of your moral obligation to resist, Danny flipped you onto your stomach in a swift motion. One firm arm wrapped around your waist, using the leverage to lift your hips up. With your face and arms planted to the floor, the harsh arch of your figure placed your bare ass on display for Danny. 

Without warning, two fingers were buried deep within you, setting a brutal pace that set your body ablaze with burning embers. Just as your walls began to flutter, Danny removed his fingers before delivering a sharp slap to your sensitive flesh. He waited a moment, allowing you to drift further from the promise of release, before claiming you once more. You lost track of time as he continued to edge you - cooing dirty words in your ear and chuckling at your growing frustration. 

“You know how to make this stop, kitten.” Your body ached, core pulsing as his touch parted once more. Danny trailed his blade down your thighs, collecting the slick of your arousal. You had been so determined not to beg. But now as you burned with stifled desire, begging for release seemed preferable to continuing this torture. 

“Danny,” you whined, aghast at how difficult stringing together a sentence had become. “Please, please, just fuck me already you fucking psychotic -” 

You were cut off by your own hoarse scream as Danny pushed into you, forcing you to take his entire length in one fatal thrust. You arched further into the ground, allowing him to reach impossibly deeper as he brushed your cervix. He was so big, feeling as though he would split you apart as he snapped his hips against yours. 

“That’s it, Y/n - fuck, you’re so tight. Bet you haven’t had anybody fuck this sweet cunt like this, have you?” You could only moan in response, clenching around him. 

A gloved hand fisted your hair, pulling your head back roughly so his mask rested by your ear. “I asked you a fucking question, bunny. Nobody fucks you like this, do they?” 

“No!” You squealed. “Only you, Danny - Danny.” His pace increased as you whimpered his name, thrusts intensifying until your looming orgasm was forced upon you. Your body trembled as your release washed over you, waves of fierce pleasure threatening to consume your very existence. 

“Yes - yes, that’s my girl.” He didn’t slow down, allowing you no reprieve from the overstimulation that wracked your core. You attempted to pull away, to form a coherent thought that would save you from the onslaught of fervent sensations. 

“Danny s’too much,” you slurred. A venomous laugh sounded in turn as he flipped you over again, hands gripping the undersides of your thighs to press your knees to your chest. He resumed his brutal pace, brushing the pad of his thumb against your clit as you writhed helplessly beneath him. 

“C’mon, Y/n, you can take one more can’t you?” That familiar pressure was already building. You forced your fluttering eyes to gaze upon his mask, the mere sight of his looming presence causing you to tumble over the edge once more. You screamed his name, overwhelmed by the earth-shattering intensity of  your climax. 

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” he groaned. Danny’s pace became frenzied, each thrust forcing brutally past your fluttering walls. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you? You want to be dripping with my cum when you sit around that campfire with your pathetic little friends.” 

“Fuck. You,” You managed, the breathy words lacking their usual bite. Your fire only spurred him on as he buried himself to the hilt within you, hot ropes of his cum coating your insides. 

As he slipped from you, allowing you to come down from your orgasmic high, the weight of your actions settled in your chest with crushing realization. Danny placed a finger under your chin to return your gaze to him - an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. 

Whatever insults you prepared to spew were quickly lost as he moved his mask - revealing a finely sculpted jaw covered in dark stubble. He leaned in close, pouty lips hovering above your own and stealing the breath from your lungs. 

“Until next time, kitten. And there will be a next time.” 

[krypticcafe]

any chance for dbd killers (especially myers) reacting to a partner who wants to take the relationship real slow? how would they take it? would they push, or be respectful? patience? bonus for cuddle time 💜✨

DBD killers w/a partner who wants to take it slow

rating: teen

character(s): GN!Reader, Shape/Michael Myers, Ghostface/Danny "Jed" Olsen, The Executioner/Pyramid Head, The Cannibal/Bubba Sawyer, Legion/Frank Morrison

warning(s): suggestive themes, canon-typical violence and behavior, language

a/n: pardon the unannounced hiatus, cue the usual fanfic writer life drama, gonna be dusting off the request box :]

Michael

Thank. GOD. He's not gonna say it, but Michael's beyond relieved because he's just not comfortable jumping into things, or anything at all. He likes consistency, not change, so he really needs the time to even just adjust to the fact that he's actually letting this relationship happen (no offense). Even the first time he let you live, he felt all irritated about it because it just felt wrong. But after he saw you leave med packs for him from time to time, lurk behind him while he was off chasing others, he started to grow a little more lenient towards you, much to your pleasure.

After you see the approval in his eyes, you're relieved, too. It's not that you thought Michael wouldn't take the suggestion well, it's that it was the first time you two were seriously discussing your relationship. Neither of you put a label on yourselves, you just both knew that you liked each other a little more than you did with other people. Kind of like a silent agreement.

But now you take confidence in knowing you can be as slow as you want with him, after all, you both have all of eternity to work it out, or at least until the Entity decides to do something about it. Though seeing as they haven't stopped you so far, you're probably fine for now.

It's a long time until you guys show any actual physical affection. The closest it's been is Michael getting revenge on people who use you as bait and grabbing your wrist to pull you to a safe spot while you help clean his gear during visits in between matches and lean on him or he holds you in his lap while sitting in comfortable silence (you've caught him falling asleep on a few occasions).

Expect it to take a while more if you guys actually want to get intimate, he's just too much of a 'business first' guy.

All in all, mission success.

Danny

"Like how slow?"

You should've expected this. While Michael is relieved, Danny, well, he doesn't take it as well. He's one of the clingiest of all the killers and makes it difficult not to be paranoid all the time of someone finding out. He's a hands-on type of guy and this... is kind of torture for him.

After some insistence and some pleading on your side, he'll give in, but it's not guaranteed. He has to resist his urges like some little kid trying not to open Christmas presents a day early. All day, every day, he's just thinking about smothering you in his touch, and it gets him frustrated (in both ways), so he has to take it out somehow.

You can literally see it in real-time when he's cutting through survivors like butter, not even bothering to act playful or make quips, just snarling and hissing at them like a feral cat. You make a mental note to give him a bit of something after the match, like a kiss or some cuddle time.

Other than that, he whines. A lot. Like it's so fucking annoying please make him shut up with a kiss or something, the killers can't stand hearing him bitch incoherently and you can only take so much of it as well. Also, he's a manipulative ass to expect him to be pushy and try to pressure you here and there.

It's kinda funny though, in a way you sorta conditioned him to feel even more euphoric when you do anything romantic with him. He's asking, no, begging for extra kisses, holding you real tight when you cuddle, and you swear you can feel him melting under your touch. Heart eyes and all, he's so obsessed with you.

Whenever you let him know you're ready to move things forward, expect him to be a little overexcited about it. Like if you finally let him get in your pants, he's gonna work you like there's no tomorrow, all that pent-up energy is flooding out the door.

I'm sorry, but you're literally caging an animal by asking *the* Ghostface to take it slow. He's only gonna get more hungry over time.

Pyra

Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think he cares. Like he's fine taking it as slow as you want, it's not a huge deal to him, and really, he has no room for judgment outside of killing people. You'll ask and he'll respond with the usual metallic grunt and boom. Problem solved.

In all honesty, it's probably good to take it slow with him if you want a nice, loving relationship with him. Because of his lack of experience, fast-paced relationships might just be too much for him to deal with, but taking your time lets him process how it even works. Dates, kissing, and anything beyond that aren't in his area of expertise, nor did he ever expect it to be, it's not his primary purpose.

This allows him to welcome something new in his life for once beyond the mundane life of Silent Hill and the matches in the realm of the Entity. He's not used to actually having personal priorities, so the adjustment period progresses along with your relationship. He's quick to find out that he really likes physical contact with you, too.

Most likely you'll be taking the initiative with him, teaching him the little things you like to do like cuddling and holding each other close. He really likes that, being able to just envelope you and keep you safe and close in such a comfortable manner.

I don't he exactly has a concept of... 'horny', it's more of a hunger I guess? A hunger to be close and in your presence, so he kinda has times when he'll stick to your side like a big old scary guard dog. If you wanna indulge him a little, go ahead.

Yeah, I can't really say much for him other than it is what it is.

Bubba

He tries his best to be patient, he really does. Bubba's more than understanding about it, because he's already elated that you love him back in the first place! Though sometimes he just really wants to pepper your face in kisses and smother you in love, pick you up and swing you around in his arms, take you to some of the nicer parts of the Entity's realm, he almost forgets they all live in some sick game.

Horrible advice, but try not to be so... cute around him. I like to think he has cuteness aggression, so it's very hard to keep his hands to himself when you look so... so... nope, no, Bubba, focus, you're supposed to be chasing Ace right now- oooo but don't wanna just eat them up and make them yours!

He wants to do so much with you but it's kind of for the best to keep him from rushing into things. Even he's a little worried that he'll tire you out from his eagerness to get things moving. Hell, he even spooked himself when he found himself daydreaming about marrying you mid-match. He can't help it though, it's the southern love in him that gets him all antsy (he thinks you'd look very nice in a suit or dress if you're wondering).

Yeah, and don't think you don't know either, not when he's humming "Here Comes the Bride" while sawing up Kate in halves in front of you.

Oh, and you thought the wedding fever was bad? Wait until the baby fever kicks up. Since day one of falling in love with you, this man has been dreaming of church bells, vows, cribs, pacifiers, and all that. He's never told you it in full detail but you just know he does. Whether you want it for your relationship or not, he still loves you nonetheless.

Despite it all, you help remind him to appreciate what's in the moment, that you both have an eternity together in damnation to get to that point. So long as time and the Entity are on your side, he's more than happy to take things slow with you and he'll be sure to enjoy every moment you have together.

Frank

"You're joking, right?"

No surprise here either, Frank doesn't take it all too well. He's an impatient bastard and mostly thinks with his dick more than his head sometimes. To be honest, he never even anticipated getting into a relationship with you. He thought most of the survivors were annoying and unlikable in their own ways, he even found you irritating at some point just not as much as the others, or so he'd claim.

You try to explain to him why and unfortunately, it does result in a back and forth between you two, the other members of Legion even chiming in on your defense. It's until you point into his face that you both literally have forever in this endless hell so "what's the big deal about us taking our time" and for him to just think about it for a bit.

And yeah he does, but it takes a while for Frank to wrap his head around it. He's used to just getting what he wants, jumping into things headfirst, and figuring out the details from there. His whole philosophy defies normalcy, defies everything he hates about Ormond and the banal, suburban society it is. He lives for the rush, the excitement, the recklessness. Time and care in a relationship remind him too much of a "normal life".

But the others remind him there's nothing normal about where they are now. Hell, they get to wreak havoc and chaos in the trials, it's everything they dreamed of. Making a statement for themselves. And frankly (no pun intended), he likes you a little too much to let it go. So instead of rushing himself into things, he finds a new thrill in testing the limits. He teases you with lingering touches and suggestive remarks, leaves you wanting, craving just a little more of that.

He clicks his tongue, "I thought we were taking it slow?"

That little bitch. He's got you wrapped around his finger and you know it. But don't think you're the only one aching, no. Call him a sadomasochist because it's practically killing him too, how much he has to hold back. Yet it's such a rush, keeping his hands to himself and itching for the day when you let him do whatever. He. Wants.

[fenriswine]

—Pick up your damn phone

I changed my drawing program from SAI to Krita and I’m actually struggling so much lmao

[qyukko]

It's Danny again, I love this guy

[diejager]

Ghostface likes the risk of getting caught

Your eyes grew with panic when you yelped loudly - a bit too loudly - at the sudden, harsh thrust of his hips that rocked you forward, pushing your stomach into the cold, hard metal of the generator you were working on. He gave a few hard pumps, craving the way the walls of your cunt spasmed and clenched around him in such a tight grip that he thought you'd stop the blood flow of his dick. You gasped and keened every time he pushed you, the quiet thrum of the generator somewhat helped hide the sounds coming from your mouth, but you feared that the other survivors would hear you if they were close to you.

He pulled back until the angry tip of his bulbous head rested against your sore lips and pushed in swiftly, rocking you forward when he kissed your cervix, bumping it in a drawn-out pump. Danny gave a few more before he stilled inside you, feeling your walls spasm sporadically, he rolled his hips and let out a chuckle when your head jerked back and moaned wantonly.

"Do you want the others to see what a slut you are, bunny?" Ghostface cocked his head, a vicious smirk playing on his lips.

His gloved fingers ran through your locks, grabbing it by the root and pulling your head to stare upwards at him with glazed eyes. Your back arched, ass grinding into his navel, mouth agape and drooling slightly. He loved this look on you.

"Are you in there, bunny? Or are you already cockdrunk? " he rasped, tightening his hold on your hair. "Do you want everyone to see that you're a dumb bunny?"

You shook your head, whining with pleading eyes staring up at him, hand going to grasp the arm that held your head up. Your eyes teared up and closed at every pump, your body jolting up with little moans slipping through your open mouth - ones that you couldn't stifle because of his harsh grip.

His barks told you one thing, but his actions another, the precarious position over the generator made you slip and keen when your hips met; the hold that he had kept your mouth from closing, drooling and moaning with your tongue lolling out dumbly; and the deep and hard thrust of his cock, deliberate in intention to make you cream loudly, hitting the spot that made your mind numb and stomach bulge with the size of him.

"Can't listen to a simple order, can you, bunny?" he scoffed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Fuckin' dumb bunny; my dumb bunny."

[akanothere]

After meeting at Roseville Gazette, 1993.

[aliidarling]

i literally love how you write danny so if that’s okay i want to ask you if you could do Danny x Fem reader cuddling please🙏

thank youuuu😭🙏🙏

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

— sfw content

summary; just cuddling with your psycho boyfriend!! :3

warnings; danny himself is a warning, blood, stalking, fluff, cuddling, pervert danny, non-dbd au, no beta read we die like danny’s victims

you and danny’s relationship was close to normal. you were aware of his antics and how he snuck out at night to end the lives of other, but who were you to judge? you were the one in love with him knowing he had ruined several lives.

there would be quiet nights where you laid in bed waiting for him to return home from one his stalkings. anxiety would pool at your feet, taunting you. your head yelled at you and told he he probably got himself arrested or he broke into the wrong house.

but each time the sound of the front door slowly creaking open always seemed to comfort you. you’re quick to sit up and rush out of your bedroom, peeking into the living room. he’s still in his ghostface get up, the bloody robe and mask telling you he had succeeded once again. a grin tugged at your lips and you ran into his arms, giggling lowly.

“how did it go? are you alright? did they fight back—“ you bombard him with questions that had been lingering in your mind for the last two hours. your hands grab at him to hold him tighter to you, eager to feel the warmth of his body.

he chuckles at your needy attitude and pulls off his mask, his dark eyes staring you down. he was as pretty as the day he met you.

“it went well, sweetheart. lil’ brat fought back but as you can tell,” he snickers, motioning to himself, “i won.” the cocky tone doesn’t go unnoticed. whenever he comes home from a successful kill he’s always in a good mood.

“good job, baby.” you coo happily, pressing kisses all over his face, from his jaw to his forehead. he hums and picks you up. you wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you close, carrying you to your bedroom.

“she managed to land a few blows on me, though.” he grumbles into your ear, subtly feeling you up through your pajamas. he loved these little flimsy things you wore to bed each night, a cami with cotton shorts, they were always so soft and comfortable to cuddle with.

“awwww, are you okay?” you frown, looking over his bloody robe. “s’all her blood, right?” you bat your lashes.

he snorts.

“yes, baby, all her blood. but the sore ribcage is from her bitch ass landing a few blows on me.” he spits out the last few words, feeling quite frustrated that the young girl he went after managed to hold quite a fight. he had stalked her for weeks, memorized every single thing about her, but he didn’t know she would pack quite a punch. she was barely 130 pounds for gosh sake.

“poor baby.” you coo as he sets you down onto the bed. he strips down from his robe, throwing it into the hamper with no hesitation. underneath is his usual black jeans with black tee shirt, completed with black gloves. he turns to the closet and starts to rummage through for some pajamas as you sit on the bed, fiddling with your fingers, waiting for him.

he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a scowl tugging at his lips. there was a small scar at the corner of his mouth that reminded you how dangerous his career was, but it also definitely enhanced his beauty no matter what anyone else told you.

“why you still awake, huh?” he asks as he grabs a pair of grey sweatpants and a black crewneck. he pulls down his pants and throws his shirt into the hamper with no care, and then quickly changes into the comfortable pajamas.

“was waiting for you.” you pout, watching intently. you weren’t a pervert, no, you just loved to watch your boyfriend in his glory.

“of course you were.” he sighs with a subtle hint of mirth. he fixes up his messy hair and crawls into the bed right next to you, shoves away some of your stuffed animals even after you yell at him not to, and pulls you close to his chest. you sigh happily and snuggle into his chest, his firm arms wrapping around you. he had a cold heart but he’d never say no to cuddles.

“gimme a back massage tomorrow, okay?” he whispers, hugging you. he rolls over so he’s on top of you, happily sighing at the new position. it’s more comfortable for him and slightly suffocating for you, but he doesn’t care. he just likes the feeling of having you in his arms underneath him with your boobs in his face.

“so squishy….” he mumbles, burying his face into your breasts, hands squeezing your waist.

“goodnight danny.” you yawn and press kisses to his head. he hums back, his voice muffled by your body, eyes already closed and zoned out. he’s always exhausted after one of his killings. it’s quite a work out for him. “night, brat.” he purrs.