#dead by daylight fanfictions

[semiweirdshipper]

Killers reactions to doing trials in swimsuits (Hooked on You addition).

Notes: Sfw. Non-binary reader insert.

-

Bubba Sawyer

He's absolutely embarrassed. Ashamed. Humiliated. And disgusted. Not only is nintey percent of his body exposed, but his face is showing as well. While he did find the hot-dog themed swimshorts oddly endearing, the joy was short lived.

During every trial, Bubba spent most of his time hiding his face underneath his straw hat while staying in secluded areas. If anyone tried to approach him, he would rev up his chainsaw to scare them away. Just go away. He didn't want to be seen like this.

While other survivors mocked and made fun of him, you were more understanding.

From a distance, you would call out to him to try and gain his trust and comfort him. Everything was going to be alright, you would say, and you would gently explain to him the severity of completing trials. There was no need to be embarrassed. In fact, you thought he looked cute and handsome.

Bubba found himself motivated and comforted by your words, and soon he began to do the trials without mercy. Anyone who mocked him would be shredded to bits.

Expect lots of half naked hugs and kisses at the end. He was so grateful to you, you have absolutely no idea.

Michael Myers

Is this a joke? Seriously? Is this a joke? Did the Entity really think this was funny?

Michael, not only frustrated by the lack of shoes and warm clothing, was utterly infuriated. Stomping around in orange and black swim-trunks with a literal, broken shell to stab people with, it was safe to say that Michael's attitude became even more brutal.

Another aspect that angered him was how almost every survivor began to tease and flirt with him as if he were some piece of candy. Some of them even tried to touch him, but their greedy paws would be quickly lacerated.

This lack of respect made him so angry that he began to commit overkill in every single trial. However... There was one survivor who didn't treat him any differently when he had to wear his swimsuit.

You.

As if nothing had changed, you treated him with respect. You didn't tease him, stare at him, touch him or try to flirt. Instead you did the trial like you were supposed to and minded his severe fits of rage. Michael even suspected that you might have been helping him to kill other survivors...

In an act of appreciation, Michael let you live most trials, and he hardly ever harmed you. After this entire event, he might even cling to you a little bit more.

Pinhead/Elliot Spencer

Was it a swimsuit? Or some kind of bizarre bedroom cosplay?

Pinhead's "swimsuit" was an array of harnesses that covered his chest, thighs and hips. Small chains hung from his nipples, and only a leather, black speedo with matching chains covered his crotch. His thoughts?

It was actually kind of nice.

No opened wounds, no cuts, and no bones or flesh hanging out? Pinhead could do with that. Sure he still had his pins and piercings, but he had adapted to those. And while it did get cold some times, nothing really changed. He was used to pain and rough environments.

But it was kind of annoying to witness the mixed reactions from the survivors. Some acted out in disgust and others in desire or mockery. Pinhead didn't let it get to him much and simply did the trials as he was supposed to.

Though he did notice that your desire towards him had heightened, and you became more eager to hide and run away from him during trials. It was amusing. He had always tried to get you to accept his offers for pleasure, but you were too shy and scared. But now?

Call it immature, but Pinhead was loving hunting you down and giving you no choice but to look at him. The feel of your desire and innocence was so endearing to him, he couldn't help but to playfully torture you.

Perhaps soon you would break under the pressure and accept his offers?

Evan MacMillan

Screw the Entity. Screw the survivors. And screw this stupid, dumb, ridiculous swimsuit!

If anyone thought they had seen Evan angry before, then they'd better think again. Because this time? This time he was absolutely furious. Why?

Try accidentally stepping in a trap with no boots on. Try doing a trial in Ormond. Try getting outrun constantly. And try getting grabbed and gawked at all the time.

It was safe to say that Evan's behavior during trials became increasingly dangerous when he wore his striped swimsuit. Many survivors teased about the size of his bulge and made a habit to try and grab him for fun. The outcome? Certain, painful death.

Evan was tired of this stupid situation.

The only break he got was when he had trials with you. Finally, someone who didn't play the "ball grabbing game" and actually did the trial accordingly. He respected you for that. And the fact that you didn't treat him any differently than normal was also appreciated.

If ever Evan came across you in a trap, he pretended to overlook you and simply walked by. You seemed to notice this as well, and soon you began to actively help him trap your perverted team members.

Hmp. You were pretty awesome, you know? He could hang with you.

Albert Wesker

The Entity really needed to work on it's fashion skills. Honestly. Did it really think this was his style? First off, the shorts were too colorful and far, far too short and tight. Wedgie much? Also, what cheap sunglasses. And why the silky black button-up and neck bandana? And were those... Flip-flops?

Most trials, Albert felt quite embarrassed and rather ridiculous, but he did good not to show it. While few survivors did make fun of him, he simply snapped back and told them not to be so jealous. And the other survivors?

The other survivors acted like he was made out of gold and jewels.

Eventually Albert grew to enjoy the attention. Of course he'd rile up this many survivors. How couldn't he? He was handsome and toned and oh so sexy. It was only natural that everyone either be jealous or attracted to him.

Except... You.

You didn't pay any attention to him. You made no faces, no comments and no reactions. Even when he tried teasing you, you wouldn't really respond with anything other than annoyance. And that bothered him.

Soon you became his top priority in every trial. While it was irritating that you didn't respond to his obvious charm, he did find it fascinating. It meant that your mind worked differently and you didn't let yourself get distracted. You were actually becoming super attractive to him.

He wanted to see how far he could go with you.

Pyramid Head

Let's put it bluntly. His swimsuit... Was seaweed. Yes, seaweed, with a dash of barnacles and slug shells here and there. He looked like a monster that crawled out of the ocean. And did this astonishing array of seaweed stay in place very long? No. No it did not.

The Executioner didn't care about clothing though. He was used to being barefoot and half naked. Natural elements didn't bother him that much. This fishy "swimsuit" was nothing more than an obstacle and a gift.

See, of course the survivors were going crazy because of his exposed body, but that only made it easier to kill them when they tried to get too close. It was so convenient that the Executioner didn't even have to fight much anymore, the survivors just came right to him to be killed.

The Executioner knew that it was perversion and desire that brought the survivors to him, but he wasn't interested in any of them. The only thing he did in response to their attraction was kill them.

But you? You were different.

You did have desire for him, but also respect and modesty. You put the trial and your objectives first, and you stayed composed when coming into contact with him. It was such an astonishing strength. The Executioner couldn't help but to envy you.

Maybe some time in the future he could approach you with his real face and show you gratitude for how well you behaved during this outlandish experience?

-

And that's how they became... Hooked on You!

[happywesker]

Ashley Graham’s Selfie

[weskie]

Perfectionist (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | this man deserves to hump the bed, oral sex (reader receiving), afab anatomy gn!reader, amab version here | Fic Directory

Particular.  Methodical. Precise.

Starved.

All words fit to describe the way Wesker handles you.  Even now, even with his face buried between your legs, he works with such intense mindfulness.  Every swipe of his tongue, each bruising nibble to your thighs or heady suckle to your swollen bud is done with the sole intention of bringing you the most pleasure possible.  

Wesker is a perfectionist, and you are the canvas upon which he will paint.  He will carve the beauty of your bliss into this world one swipe at a time, for hours on end if he must. Even in the midst of such a primal deed, he is nothing but grace– until he isn’t.  Until you catch, by sheer luck, the sight of his hips grinding down against the bed.  Just once. 

Just one little slip of his self control.

But how fucking euphoric to know you push him to such extremes.  That the mere taste of your nectar can unravel his unyielding poise is enough to undo you.  With your hands in his hair, gripping, tugging, voice squeaking and pleading, you feel the lightning strike of your release burst through you.  It tingles into your limbs, down your spine.  You arch and squirm, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

He always does.

And he doesn’t stop…  

He laps at you through all of it, fingers beckoning slick from your quivering cunt to feed his insatiable appetite.  His little sounds aren’t lost on you.  The heavy, panted breaths; the little moan here or there; that one particularly drawn out hum of delight when your thighs clamped tight around his head.  

You peer from under heavy eyelids when you feel his lips at your thighs once more, peppering soft kisses as you come down from your release.  To your surprise, his gaze is anything but soft– so unlike his actions.  You find him staring with determined, voracious eyes– red as ever, boring deep into you.  The juxtaposition ignites the strangest blendings of anticipation and adoration.  He’s promising you silently and loudly all at once: you belong to him. 

You are his down to the molecular level and beyond– to the little building blocks of each and every atom in your body. He has made his claim.

The fingers within you continue their motions and his thumb falls to your tender bud.  Wesker is silent as he works you back to madness, basking in the trembling of your legs, nuzzling against the inside of your thigh to feel and watch each and every reaction.  

You can see him faltering again.  So subtle, but you catch the way his hips move. Poor thing. His pants must feel so tight by now… 

You wish he wasn’t so damn dignified all the time.  If he’d only accept that he was allowed the simple pleasures, that he could let go of some of that pride and hump the bed like any normal man.  God, you’d fucking love to see it.  Even just that little gyration was enough to make you clench around his digits.

You can see in his eyes that he’s doing everything in his power to resist it.  

You use your grip in his hair to push him back to your aching core.  His lips curl in a smirk at your clit and you wish more than anything that you could kiss that damned look off his face.  

“Mm, god!” You mewl, knowing full well what such an exclamation means to him. Not a plea to a higher power, no… 

That title is his. 

“So, so good…” you gasp, pushing up to meet his soft tongue. Through the haze, you see it happen again. The smallest arch of his back, the lightest rocking of his hips. 

Is that what he needs? 

“That's– that's it!” 

Again. 

“Al… oh god!” 

Let him know how good he’s doing.

You resist biting back a moan, just to further test the waters. You let those little whimpers sing freely, let his name fall from your lips and your hands tug and pull at his hair. You even dig one of your heels into his back, and then you hear it. 

Nearly silent, Wesker's gasping, open-mouthed whine reverberates against your sopping folds. The sound dances to your ears, more beautiful than any melody to ever grace the world. 

Your fingers curl tighter in his locks, pressing him closer. With your back arched and feet braced, you grind up against his face. Both of his arms lock around your thighs as if, by some measure, to remind you that it’s only by his good graces that you’re allowed to use him so wantonly. 

Another weak noise quivers against your aching cunt, and you find it in yourself to fight off the tendrils of release seeping through every fiber of your being just to watch him.

“I love it!” You gasp, perhaps just a little too breathily.  “L-Love you!”

Which, of course, earns you that reaction you so desperately want.  This time your treat is two sharp rocks of his hips and the unmistakable creak of the bedframe protesting against his strength.

You’re playing such a dangerous game with him.  What if you get what you want, hm?  What if you make the man-made god come in his pants?  What then?

Surely there will be consequences for pushing him into such a position.  Perhaps he’ll make you lick him clean.  No, no… that’s hardly a punishment.  What if he threw you over his knee?

Also not quite the worst case scenario.

So you sing for him.  With every little breath, you vocalize how good it feels, how good he feels, until suddenly those subtle grinds against the bed are anything but and he’s practically growling against your heat.  

His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, tongue fucking in and out of you while his nose presses to your clit, and he humps against the bed as though the panopticon of his pride had never been there at all to observe such a desperate act unbecoming of a god.

The sight sends you hurtling over the edge, back rising from the bed as you shiver and shake and gush more slick for his greedy tongue.  His name falls from your lips over and over like a prayer, and by the time your back hits the bed once more you hear and feel him finding his own release as he thrusts away at nothing.

The thought alone of what just happened is enough to make you see stars…

You pet through his hair affectionately, cooing praise until those piercing eyes crack open and stare lazily through the haze.  His mouth stays pressed at the base of your mound, slick glistening at the tip of his nose and the curve of his cheek– too invested in painting his masterpiece to realize he’d become part of it.

Eventually though, you manage to get him to crawl back up.  You thumb away at the mess, utterly hypnotized when he grabs your wrist and sucks your digit clean. You can see it in his eyes… You feel it in the way he kisses you.

Ever the perfectionist, Albert Wesker is far from finished with you.

[anomaly-hivemind]

Behind You ☆ Ghostface x reader | Kinktober Day 24

Summary:  You get in your car only to have an unwanted visitor in the backseat. So, instead of getting stabbed, you get in the back with him.

Word Count: 1102

Tags: quickies, car sex, mask men, mask kink, face fucking, blow jobs, oral(male receiving), fingering, fem reader, choking, manhandling

You have been on edge lately, getting strange phone calls and pictures of you with little notes on the back, all of which are vaguely threatening, if not in a flirty undertone. Either way, it has made you very paranoid. You have a stalker, and there is no other word for it. This is why you're listing off every related curse word to yourself when you end up in the situation you are currently in. 

You got into the front seat of your car, after spending far too much time in the store trying to get things you needed, and it had gotten dark. You hopped into the car and cut your music in hopes of stilling your nerves, and as you locked your doors, it was like sealing your faith. You freeze when you feel the gloved hand reach around your neck from the back of the seat. Your heart drops to you and you want to risk looking back at your stalker. You didn't even get to grab the seat belt before getting grabbed. You could hear them breathing heavily from behind you but it was muffled. 

“You're going to do what I want and this will go real easy for you.” A distorted voice spoke through the thickening silence. You didn't want to die so you just got a short nod.

“That's a good girl.” The person muttered before grabbing you by the arm and forcing you to move into the back. 

You stumble and borderline fall into the back seat, feeling completely disoriented. You look up and see your masked stalker looking down at you. A pit formed in your stomach, and a lump in your throat had your mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.

You quickly sit up almost feeling dizzy with nervousness as the thick silence you despite your music playing faintly through the radio.  You feel the gloved Hand yank your pants and underwear off roughly, and you feel the cold fabric of your seat against your bare lower half. 

“Alright, pretty, behave, and we'll both have a good time.”  He rubbed his gloved fingers against your folds, causing you to shiver.   You let out a loud hiss when he pushed his fingers into you, scissoring them apart to stretch you out. 

“Please don't kill me,” you whimpered out; your voice was shaky, and your heart was beating so loud it felt like it was going out of your chest.  

“That's the last thing you need to worry about unless you do something stupid.” He pushed his fingers in and out of your cunt with each word he said, his voice rough as his thrust.   

A part is you couldn’t deny that there was a mix of things turning you on between all the fear. You could literally hear the friction of his gloves disappearing with how wet you were getting for him.  You could feel the bulge on his pants pushing against the fabric. 

“I know what you're thinking, slut,  you've always been so telling. Go ahead and suck it bitch!” You hear the voice change peak as he growls out his sentences to you. 

You don't need to be told twice, and you, with shaky hands, work to free his cock out of his boxers. You put him against your wet tongue against the tip; you cover his cock with your saliva as he fucks you with his fingers,  his knuckle brush against, adding the needed stimulation That was bringing you closer to cumming. You suck on his cock while moaning against him. You hate how good your stalker and potential future killer were finger-banging you.  You clenched around his fingers, and your legs tried to push close.  Your orgasm seems to only irritate the man as he yanks his fingers out of you and shoves his cock down your throat.

“Who said you could cum, you fucking slut” he forced you down against his balls, and you choked and gaged against him as your eyes watered. 

“You'll only be cumming on my cock…And even then, I still might not let you cum!” He hissed as his hand held you down and still so he can fuck your face roughly. 

He was slamming into your face so hard that you almost thought you were going to throw up from all the gagging. You hold his thigh in hopes that he will slow down, but he doesn't. Instead, he starts to move more aggressively and without rhythm as he works to claim your mouth. The hand that was once on the back of your head moves to your throat.  He roughly pulls you off of him and yanks you by the neck upward. He flips you onto your back and holds you into place. 

He holds your place by the neck tightly, causing you to gasp for air and grab at his hand to try and pull it away. Your body thrashes as it gets harder to breathe. He moves on top of you and loosens his grip as he slides into you fully.  You both let out a moan, and you take in as much air as you can. He brings his other hand down to your neck and so both his hands are wrapped around the delicate area.

He starts thrusting into your soaking pussy, the sounds becoming louder than the faint radio. He tightens his grip on your neck, and you tighten your grip on his cock.  You whine out a gargled wheeze as you start to get light-headed.  You both were on the edge of climax from before,  and it was all starting to climb back up. 

You moaned out a bated breath as you felt like your orgasm was overcoming you. You felt like you were going to pass out or die at his tight hands. But the way he was making your pussy feel like heaven on ice was clouding your judgment more than lack of air was. Your eyes rolled back as his grip tightly more; everything went white as you experienced the most intense climax of your life, and then everything went black.

Your Ghostface staker releases his grip on your neck and blows his load in your accepting cunt before pulling out of you. He crawls his way into the front seat and starts your car. You're startled back to consciousness by the sound of the music getting louder. You feel like a puddle, and your legs still shake as you look over at the man driving your car. 

“Time to take you home,” he purred, and you can't help but smile.

[writer-freak]

Michael Myers x Ghostface x Fem reader

Kinktober week 5 - Threesome, double penetration and primal

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: NSFW, female reader, fingering, unprotected sex, anal penetration (reader receiving), p in v, no proper prep, nipple play (reader and Michael receiving), biting, petnames, english isn't my first language, probably forgot something

A/n: So life got in the way so this took longer than expected but better late then never. I'm planning on writing a male and probably also gender neutral version of this which shouldn't take too long but I finished this first and wanted to post. I'm really not used to writing two characters actually engaging with each other so I hope this turned out fine.

The night was cool, the sound of rain overwhelming you while the fog moved around the realm. You ran, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you maneuvered between the trees, your heart pounding in your chest.

Every rustle, every shadow seemed to come alive as you sprinted deeper between the trees. You knew this was a game, a sick, thrilling game that had been crafted just for you by the two predators on your trail. Michael and Danny had already wiped out the other survivors, but they kept you alive. And you knew why.

They loved the chase, the adrenaline, the hunt. And you couldn’t deny that some twisted part of you loved it too. The feeling of being prey, of being stalked by not one, but two deadly killers, had heat pooling in your belly. Your relationship with them was… complicated, to say the least.

You weren’t just some faceless survivor to be eliminated. No, with them, it was different. The three of you had a connection that went beyond the usual hunt, a dark and exciting bond that kept you coming back for more. And tonight was no different. Your breath hitched as you glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of movement in the shadows.

Michael’s figure loomed in the distance, his expressionless mask a stark contrast in the darkness, moving silently through the trees. You could almost feel his gaze on you, like a physical weight pressing against your skin.

And then there was Danny just out of sight, but you knew he was there. He always was, lurking, waiting to strike when you least expected it. A thrill shot through you as you pushed yourself harder, your legs burning as you darted between the trees, your heart hammering in your chest.

You had to keep running, had to stay ahead. But deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before they caught you. They always did. And part of you couldn’t wait for it.

The sound of footsteps grew louder behind you, the rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs signaling their approach.

You could hear Danny’s familiar voice, taunting, teasing. “You can run, sweetheart, but you know we’ll catch you. It’s only a matter of time.” His words were filled with amusement, like a cat playing with its prey.

A sharp breath escaped you as you stumbled, your body hitting the ground hard. For a moment, everything went still—the forest, the air, even your heartbeat seemed to pause. And then, you felt it. The presence of your hunters closing in.

Before you could scramble to your feet, a shadow fell over you, and a strong hand gripped your arm, pulling you up. Michael. His mask was blank, unreadable, but you could feel the power radiating off of him as he loomed over you, holding you in place with ease.

Danny appeared at your other side, his knife glinting in the low light as he crouched down, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Caught you,” he purred, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Your heart raced, but it wasn’t fear that made your pulse spike it was something far darker, something more primal. You could feel heat pooling between your legs as they both loomed over you, the rush of being caught setting your nerves alight.

“What do we do with you now, huh?” Danny’s voice was teasing, but the hunger in his voice was obvious as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You look like you enjoyed the chase, didn’t you?” You couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips as his words sent a shiver down your spine. Michael’s grip tightened on your arm, pulling you even closer to him, his body solid and unmovable against your back.

Danny chuckled, his breath hot against your skin. “I think it’s time for your reward.” By the time they had dragged you to a place better suited for your reward, the tension between the three of you was nearly unbearable.

Michael’s grip on you hadn’t loosened, his hands possessive as they roamed your body, Danny removed his mask his sharp gaze following Michael's every movement, his smirk never fading.

They didn’t speak much, not that Michael ever did, but you could feel the silent understanding between them. Danny was the talker for both of them, his taunts and teases filling the air as they slowly, stripped you down to nothing, their hands roaming over every inch of your skin with a reverence that sent sparks through your body.

“Look at you, all worked up,” Danny muttered, his lips trailing down your neck as he pressed you back against Michael’s chest. “You love this, don’t you? Being the prey. Being hunted.” His voice was thick with amusement, but you could hear the heat beneath it, the barely contained hunger in his words.

You whimpered softly, your body trembling as Michael’s hands slid over your waist, his grip firm, holding you in place as Danny’s mouth moved lower. “You’re gonna look so good between us,” Danny murmured, his teeth grazing your collarbone as his hands wandered lower, his fingers brushing against your thighs in a featherlight caress. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Michael’s grip on your hips stayed strong feeling him holding onto you as Danny took his time savoring every inch of your exposed skin. He let his hands roam over you, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched, teasing you with feather-light caresses that left you squirming between the two of them.

Danny’s fingers brushed over your cheek as he leaned in, voice a low, tantalizing whisper. “You know he’s watching you,” he murmured, letting his thumb graze your lower lip. “Watching every little reaction, just like I am.”

His gaze darted to Michael, who stood like a shadow behind you, unmoving but you could feel him watching everything.

Danny’s eyes shone with a playful light as he shifted, moving close enough to press his lips against Michael’s mask, planting a slow, deliberate kiss against the blank face. The motion was almost mocking, yet oddly tender, as if daring Michael to break his silence.

You could almost see the tension crackling between them, and Michael’s hand slid down to grip Danny’s wrist, forceful but not resisting. You watched, breathless, as Danny chuckled, peeling the mask up just enough to reveal Michael’s mouth.

For a moment, Michael was exposed, his lips parting as Danny leaned in again, capturing them in a hard, possessive kiss. You felt heat coil inside you as they moved against each other, Michael’s hand tightening around Danny’s arm with an unmistakable intensity.

After a few moments, Danny pulled back, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “See, he’s hungry too,” he said, his voice low, almost taunting. “And it looks like you’re the prize for both of us.”

Danny’s mouth returned to you, hot and insistent as he worked his way down your neck, leaving a path of bruises and bites in his wake. His teeth grazed your skin, sharp enough to sting but not break, his tongue following each nip with soothing warmth.

Behind you, Michael’s large hands slid possessively over your waist and hips, his rough fingertips gripping with a force that left you trembling.

Michael’s breath fanned against your neck as his hands moved upward, skimming along your ribs and finally cupping your breasts. His touch was firm, possessive, his fingers brushing your nipples in rough circles that made you gasp.

Without a word, he leaned down, brushing his lips against the nape of your neck. Each kiss he left lingered hotly on your skin, his mouth branding you as his.

Danny’s hands slipped lower, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His mouth curved into a wicked smile as you whimpered under his teasing touch. “Look at you, already trembling,” he murmured against your collarbone.

“Can’t decide if it’s from fear or excitement, can you?” His voice was mocking yet dripping with desire as he knelt before you, pulling your legs wider to make room for him.

Michael’s hands slid back down to your hips, steadying you against his broad frame as Danny settled between your thighs. Michael’s height left you caught perfectly between them, his powerful body supporting you from behind while Danny’s lips and hands worked their way lower.

You felt Michael’s hardness pressing against the curve of your backside, a silent reminder of what awaited you, as Danny’s fingers teased and tested you.

Danny’s lips trailed down your body, leaving a burning path across your stomach. His fingers splayed across your thighs, thumbs brushing just close enough to your core to make you ache. “So ready for us,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he spread you open.

His eyes flicked up to yours, watching your every reaction as his tongue darted out to tease you. A soft gasp escaped your lips as his fingers pressed against your slick folds, spreading you further.

“You’re already dripping,” Danny teased, his voice dark and mocking. “So desperate for us to ruin you.” His thumb pressed against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, testing how much you could take.

He circled the sensitive bud with agonizing patience, his fingers slick with your arousal as he finally slid one inside, the stretch making you moan.

Michael’s hands gripped your hips tightly as Danny worked. The firm press of Michael’s chest against your back left you grounded, his presence overwhelming even in silence.

One of his hands moved upward again, fingers brushing your neck before sliding into your hair and gripping it firmly. The tug forced your head back, exposing your throat to him. He leaned down, lips brushing over your pulse before nipping at the skin.

Danny’s smirk widened as he pushed another finger inside you, the stretch exquisite as he began to curl them in slow, deliberate strokes. His free hand gripped your thigh, keeping you in place as he worked you open. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and dark as his fingers thrust into you with increasing intensity. “You’re taking me so well.”

His eyes darted upward, meeting Michael’s over your shoulder. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Danny said, his tone laced with smug satisfaction. His pace quickened, fingers plunging deeper as his thumb pressed harder against your clit. The combined sensations left you trembling, your body arching into him as he continued his unrelenting rhythm.

Michael’s grip on your hair tightened, pulling you back against him as he let out a low, approving growl. His free hand slid down to your chest, cupping your breast roughly as his thumb brushed over your hardened nipple.

Danny leaned in closer, his breath hot against your inner thigh. His tongue darted out, flicking against your clit in time with his fingers. You cried out at the sudden burst of sensation, your legs shaking as he pressed deeper. “That’s it,” Danny whispered, his lips brushing against your skin. “Let us hear you.”

Michael’s hand joined Danny’s, his larger fingers brushing against Danny’s as they both worked to stretch you further. The contrast in their touches was maddening, Danny’s quick and teasing, Michael’s deliberate and firm. Together, they pushed you higher, their coordination leaving you helpless between them.

Danny pulled back slightly, his lips wet and glistening as he smirked up at you. “You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, sliding his fingers out just enough to leave you feeling empty before plunging them back in. His pace was relentless, his free hand now gripping your hip to steady you as he curled his fingers just right, hitting a spot that made your breath hitch.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear hearing his heavy breathing. His fingers pressed harder against your clit, circling with calculated precision.

Danny’s mouth quickly replaced Michael's fingers, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nub before sucking it between his lips. The combination of their touches left you gasping, your body arching into them as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“Come on,” Danny coaxed, his voice low and commanding as he added another finger. “Let go for us. We’re not even close to done with you.”

You cried out, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Michael’s grip on your hair softened, his hand sliding down to your waist to steady you as Danny slowed his pace, letting you ride out your climax.

When Danny finally pulled his fingers away, he brought them to his mouth, his eyes locking with yours as he licked them clean, savoring every drop.

Michael released his hold on you just enough to guide you down, his hands firm as they moved you to straddle Danny.

Danny exchanged a smirk with Michael, their unspoken understanding clear in the intensity of their gazes.

Michael’s silence spoke volumes as he gripped your hips, his strong hands cold against your heated skin. The warmth of his breath against the back of your neck made your stomach twist with anticipation, a stark contrast to Danny’s bold teasing. The quiet exchange between the two men only intensified the heat pooling in your belly, leaving you trembling with desire.

Danny’s smirk never faltered as he took the lead, his mouth finding yours in a bruising kiss that left you gasping for air. His tongue teased and tangled with yours, possessive and challenging, as his hands roamed over your body.

Behind you, Michael shifted slightly, the hard press of his cock against your ass making your breath hitch. His quiet authority paired perfectly with Danny’s unrestrained hunger, the two of them overwhelming you with their opposing but somehow matching energies.

“You’re ours,” Danny murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Let’s see how well you can handle us.”

Michael’s hands tightened on your hips as Danny’s slid lower, gripping your thighs as he positioned you over him. His cock pressed hot and firm against your entrance, the sensation enough to make you whimper.

Danny’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he guided you down onto him, the head of his cock slipping inside slowly, teasingly. The stretch was exquisite, his cock thick as he pushed deeper, filling you inch by inch. “That’s it,” Danny groaned, his hands gripping your thighs as he watched your face contort with pleasure. “Take me… every fucking inch.”

Behind you, Michael moved closer, the heat of his body warming your back as he pressed you down onto Danny’s cock. The contrast of their touches, had you trembling between them, completely at their mercy.

“You feel so fucking good,” Danny muttered, his voice thick with lust as he thrust up into you, slow and deliberate. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he began to move, each thrust driving deeper, testing your limits. “So tight, so perfect. God, I could fuck you all day.”

Michael’s deep grunt behind you sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins. Danny paused for a moment, letting you catch your breath. Just as you began to relax, you felt one of Michael’s thick fingers trailing lower, brushing lightly over the tight ring of muscle there.

The sensation made you tense, your breath hitching at the unexpected touch.

“Relax,” Danny murmured, his hands gripping your hips reassuringly as he leaned up to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Let him take care of you.”

Behind you, Michael’s large hands splayed over your ass, steadying you as his finger pressed more insistently against your unprepared entrance. The intrusion was slow, deliberate, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips as the tip of his finger slipped inside. The sensation was strange, new, and your body tensed instinctively against the unfamiliar pressure.

“It’s your first time, isn’t it?” Danny’s voice was a low, teasing purr against your ear, his fingers brushing lightly over your thighs. “Don’t worry. He’ll make sure you’re enjoying it.”

Michael’s finger pushed deeper, the thick digit stretching you inch by inch. The burn was sharp at first, but it was impossible to ignore the way your body responded, the slight twinge of discomfort giving way to an unfamiliar pleasure.

You squirmed beneath him, torn between nervous anticipation and the growing heat building low in your belly.

“You’re so tight here,” Danny murmured, his gaze dark and hungry as he watched your face. “Fuck, I can already tell how good you’re going to feel for him.”

Michael didn’t speak, but the way his finger moved—slowly curling, testing, coaxing you to relax—said everything. Another finger joined the first, the stretch making you whimper softly as your hands gripped Danny’s chest for support.

Your breaths came in short gasps, a mixture of nerves and arousal as your body adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation.

“You’re doing so well,” Danny praised, his fingers sliding up to tease your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through you. “Just let him open you up… you’ll love it.”

Michael’s fingers worked deeper, the steady, relentless pressure making your body shudder as he prepared you for what was to come. Despite the initial apprehension, you found yourself relaxing into his touch, the heat pooling between your legs overwhelming your hesitation.

The stretch was intense, but the raw, almost primal pleasure that accompanied it had you trembling in his grasp.

When Michael finally withdrew his fingers, you couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped your lips, your body clenching at the loss. But there was no time to dwell on the emptiness. The blunt head of his cock pressed firmly against your entrance, the sheer size of him making you gasp. The pressure mounted as he pushed forward, inch by inch, the stretch, unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Danny’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for us.”

The thick head of Michael’s cock finally breached you, the sensation sharp and overwhelming as your body struggled to accommodate him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but the low, guttural groan that rumbled from Michael’s chest sent a thrill through you, the sound of his pleasure drowning out the lingering discomfort.

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Danny murmured, his hands sliding over your thighs as he guided you down onto his cock, filling you completely once again. “Taking us both so well.”

Michael’s deep, steady thrusts began slowly, the purposeful pace giving you time to adjust to the stretch. The burn eased with each movement, replaced by a growing, heady pleasure that made your body tremble. You could feel every inch of him, the thick length of his cock driving into you with an intensity that left you gasping for air.

The feeling of them both inside you at once was almost too much to bear. Danny’s cock filled you completely, his pace quickening as Michael stretched you even more, the two of them moving together with a rhythm that left you utterly wrecked. Michael’s hands gripped your hips with bruising force, his silent dominance a stark contrast to Danny’s teasing words and frantic movements.

“Look at you,” Danny groaned, his voice thick with arousal as he watched your every reaction. “Taking us both like you were made for this.” His hips bucked up to meet Michael’s thrusts, the combined sensation sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he drove into you with unrelenting force. The sheer power of his movements left you trembling, your body stretched and filled completely, every nerve ending alive with pleasure.

“You’re ours now,” Danny murmured, his voice a dark, possessive growl. “And we’re not letting you go.”

Michael’s silence only made his movements more commanding, his cock driving into you with precision, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. His grip on your hips never faltered, his strong hands keeping you exactly where he wanted you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Danny leaned up, his lips finding your neck as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, leaving marks in his wake. “You’re gonna come for us, aren’t you?” he whispered against your ear, his voice a low purr. “I can feel it… you’re so fucking close.”

Your moans filled the air as they both fucked you, their cocks stretching and filling you in perfect unison. The pressure inside you built with every thrust, your body trembling as they drove you higher and higher, their movements relentless.

Michael’s hands slid up your body, one of them tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to him. His breath was hot against your skin as he pressed his lips to your throat, the faintest growl escaping him as he marked you with a sharp bite.

Danny’s wicked grin widened as he watched Michael’s rare display of possessiveness. “Even he can’t resist you,” Danny teased, his voice full of amusement as he thrust up into you harder, drawing a loud moan from your lips. “You’ve got us both completely fucking hooked.”

Danny’s cock slammed into you with unrelenting force, his fingers digging into your thighs as he chased his own release, while Michael’s powerful thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure through you with each movement.

Your body was trembling, the pressure building inside you, threatening to spill over as they both pushed you closer to the edge. Michael’s thrusts grew harder, his grip on your hips bruising as he drove into you with monstrous intensity, while Danny’s teasing fingers played with your nipples, heightening every sensation.

And then, without warning, Danny’s hand slid up to Michael’s chest, his fingers brushing lightly over his nipples, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he toyed with the silent killer. Michael didn’t react at first, but the way his hips faltered for a split second told you everything you needed to know.

Danny chuckled low, his fingers twisting Michael’s nipples, drawing a low, barely audible grunt from the man behind you.

“So even Michael’s sensitive here,” Danny teased, his voice laced with amusement as he continued to play with Michael’s chest, his fingers flicking and pinching the sensitive nubs. “I knew it… even the big guy has his weak spots.”

Michael’s thrusts grew more erratic, his breath coming in heavier pants as Danny continued to tease him, his hips slamming into you harder as he tried to maintain control. But Danny’s playful touch was relentless, his fingers working Michael’s nipples in time with his own thrusts, making you both shudder with pleasure.

The sight of Danny teasing Michael sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body trembling as the tension built to an unbearable level. You were so close—right on the edge—and you could feel Danny grinning beneath you, sensing how close you were to falling apart.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Danny murmured, his voice low and rough as his hand slid back down to your hips, gripping you tightly. “Let go. Let us hear you scream.”

The pressure inside you finally snapped, and you came hard, your body trembling violently between them as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your walls clenched around their cocks, drawing low groans from both of them as they continued to fuck you through your orgasm, their combined thrusts driving you to heights you didn’t think were possible.

Michael’s grip on your hips tightened as he followed you over the edge, a deep, guttural grunt escaping him as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling into you in hot, thick pulses. Danny wasn’t far behind, his hips bucking up into you one final time as he came with a low, drawn-out moan, his cock twitching inside you as he filled you completely.

For a moment, the three of you were still, your bodies tangled together in a heated, breathless mess. The only sound was your ragged breathing the intensity of your orgasm leaving you entirely spent.

Danny was the first to break the silence, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he brushed his hand against the bitemark on your neck. “You look so fucking good like this,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Completely wrecked and perfect.”

Michael didn’t say anything, but the way his hands remained firmly on your hips, holding you in place even as he softened inside you, spoke volumes.

Danny chuckled softly, his hands sliding over your waist as he shifted beneath you, his cock still buried inside you. “Think she can handle another round?” he asked, his voice full of mischief as he glanced up at Michael.

Michael’s grip tightened slightly, his silent response enough to make Danny laugh. “Guess that’s a yes,” Danny said, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. “Better get ready, sweetheart. We’re not done with you yet.”

18+ Divider by: @cafekitsune

[xalygatorx]

Le Petit Mori (Zestial x AFAB!Reader)

Written for Hooked on Hazbin 2024, an event by the wonderful @fraugwinska & @macabr3-barbi3 ❤️

Minors DNI, you are responsible for your own media consumption

Summary: You're offered a deal by one of the most ancient killers in the Entity's realm. You take it.

Warnings: Angsty smut, graphic (game-typical) violence, blood, descriptions of pain, the reader is a survivor but not a good person, they're also losing it a little, Zestial is in Hell (or the Entity's realm) for a reason, some body horror, one (1) movie reference, oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, exhibitionism, size kink, reader wants to live deliciously, solo queue will wear you down, it gets a bit monster-fucky, AFAB!reader

A/N: For anyone here from my Hazbin crowd who isn't familiar with Dead by Daylight (DBD), here's a short(?) summary for some optional context.

DBD is an asymmetrical—one killer vs. a team of four survivors—horror game that is, in essence, freeze tag.

At its base level (lots of things can affect outcomes like match offerings and character perks and addons), the survivors' goal is to repair 5 generators to power the exit gates and escape alive. The killer's goal is to kill the survivors before that can happen.

The "freeze tag" element is executed via a hooking system—survivors can be hooked (literally) twice without dying as long as they're unhooked in a timely manner. Their third hook is their "death hook" and they're out of the game at that point.

When there's only one survivor left in a match, an escape hatch spawns in a random location on the map to give the lone survivor one last chance at escaping the trial.

There are lots of other ins and outs to the game as a whole (it can get convoluted), but this is the bare bones and I think all you'll really "need" for this oneshot. :) If you're just here for the smut and the sexual tension, you won't need any of it at all. LOL

If you have questions about specific details in the story related to game stuff, I'll happily answer them in the comments.

Good luck, have fun. x

Also on AO3

You don't know what you did—that not-knowing is the crux of everything you know now, as strange as that sounds.

You don't know why you stepped out into the road that day. Why instead of the impact of a fender, you felt gnarled, eldritch claws hook into you and pull. Why you were probably dead already and yet had to die again and again and again and again and again every goddamn day. Why the other "survivors," as you dead souls were all called, didn't trust you. Why you cared whether they did or not.

You suppose it's because this marrow-deep loneliness sometimes feels colder than death. It might've been easier to stomach oblivion—in fact, you're sure it would've been.

Instead, you're in the worst purgatory you can conceive of. A limbo of running for your life, tungsten hooks through your shoulders and already bloodied by the viscera of those sacrificed before you, and the same hateful eyes staring at you, through you, as the claws of the false god known only as the Entity spear you through and pull you up into where the fog is thickest. The same vacant, raging eyes of a killer simply masked within different faces.

All but one. One seemed to hate you less than the others—even less than your supposed "friends" by the campfire.

He still killed you. They all did. And despite his clear, present, and vibrant green gaze whenever he looked at you—whenever he smiled at you—he terrified you more than any of them.

Because the Overlord looked at you and saw you and saw something that made him keep looking. Maybe that was why the other survivors treated you like a killer the Entity could send home with them.

You feel not-so-hateful eyes on you that night after your last trial as you sit wrapping a sachet stuffed with herbs and laurel leaves from the nearby bog. Your hands still and you glance toward the source of the feeling, noting Claudette furtively watching your progress as she wrings her scarred, careful hands.

Caught, she fills the silence. "You're getting better at making those," she says, nodding toward the bundle balanced on your knee and the twine you're wrapping around it.

You nod a couple of times, acknowledging what she said although you aren't sure what she wants from the interaction. No one talks to you. At least not like this. She usually doesn't either, but she was more skittish than baleful in her avoidance. Claudette was the nicest and also the meekest of the bunch.

"It gets easier," she suddenly offers, pulling you out of your thoughts again. The fire crackles nearby and shadows are wrought up her drawn, concerned features. "They'll… They'll get nicer. You're still new. They're not used to new people. And there's a lot at stake out there."

"Thalita and Renato are newer than I am," you point out. There's no animosity in your tone, just facts. Your voice is hoarse from the screaming you did today.

Claudette sighs, glancing at the flames. "You're right," she admits. "I'm not sure why it's different for them. Maybe because they came together. Or maybe because they're similar in a lot of ways to a few of the others. You're…different. I can't put my finger on it, but there's a different energy to you, I guess."

"You're sounding like Mikaela," you point out, but it's with a faint smile cast her way as you go back to tying up your sachet.

She laughs and it relaxes her a little. "I know," she says, curling her knees up to her chest and resting her arms against the tops of them. "But I think I mean it. And, hey, it's helped you here and there in the trials so far, so it must be a good 'different'."

You know she's talking about the killers occasionally letting you go. That had been the first reason you'd considered for the others disliking you so much—that they were jealous of the number of times you'd already been delivered to the hatch or an open gate no matter how hateful the killer's stare—but it seemed to go deeper than that. Much deeper.

And they didn't even know about Zestial's apparent fixation with you.

"I think they've just done that because I'm new," you say, even if you didn't entirely believe it. "Can killers feel pity?"

"None that I've met," Claudette replies. "And I've been here a long time."

"How long?" you venture to ask.

Claudette's eyes grow distant, glazed by memory, and she purses her lips. "…I'm not sure. But long."

"Claude."

You both jolt a little at the hard tone that comes with Claudette's nickname. Jake casts a wary glance your way before returning his gaze to your sole companion at the fireside and jerking his head back toward the camp past the trees. "C'mon. It's late."

It was a sorry excuse to get her away from you. You didn't need to sleep here. Or eat, or drink, or rest. Purgatory.

Still, Claudette doesn't refuse him and doesn't point out his inconsistencies. She stands, brushes off her pants, and glances at you one more time.

"Hope you get some rest after today," she says, chafing one hand against her arm despite the heat from the fire. Again, she says, "It'll get easier."

Jake clears his throat and Claudette scampers away like an anxious rabbit, walking ahead of him into the trees to join the others. He looks back at you one more time, measuring you up, before nodding once and following your resident healer.

It was maybe the second time he'd acknowledged you since you were dragged here by the Entity months(?) ago. You had a feeling he only did because Claudette seemed to like you well enough and he didn't want to disappoint her.

Your fingers still against the twine and your eyes dip down to the fire.

You could still feel him.

From the first time, he never really left you. You still remember it. Meeting those brilliant green eyes across an expanse of Yamaoka, fiery slits cutting the dark, before you knew what being the first to look upon him in a trial would do.

Panic had laced through your ribs, clawed through your insides, and your thoughts had scrambled along with your teammates'. A perk of being the Overlord.

David's nails had raked deep, long scratches down his face as he screamed for the killer's aural effects to wear off. You heard them even now, the screams to "make it stop." He'd not been quite the same for days after and because he'd been the one to put those scratches in his face, they left the trial with him, too. Every time Claudette had sat down beside him to clean the cuts, he'd nearly leapt out of his skin.

Meg had been tunnel-visioned on a generator for once in her life and hadn't realized how close Zestial was until her body buckled with exposure and he swiped her right off the gen and straight to the ground. You learned in that precise instant what "exposure" meant in this realm as she lay on the dirt, bleeding and coughing, her fingertips burnt from where they'd tangled in the wires and caused the gen to backfire with her fall.

Yun-Jin had bolted immediately. You'd come to learn this was expected from her—she was efficient and bold, but she was nowhere near altruistic. You'd been left in a trial by her in exchange for a gate or on a hook for the hatch more times than you could count.

At least she didn't specifically hate you, it seemed—by what you could glean from catching the others' conversations and the trials you'd been in with her since, she treated everyone with equal detachment. It was how she protected herself, you imagined, in more ways than one.

After half the team had bolted and you stayed frozen in place, your eyes shifted back to the killer you'd never seen before that trial.

Zestial. "The Overlord." A towering, enigmatic figure of glowing eyes and void-black spines, wrapped up in a cloak that flowed like spider silk. Had you seen him in any other context, you may have scoffed at first—he looked like Halloween personified.

However, standing there, stock-still in horror as he stared back at you and smiled, you didn't have breath in your lungs to scoff. You'd told yourself every day since that it was only due to fear.

You'd never been the best at lying to yourself.

Meg had been the one to finally jar you enough to flee when she gritted from the ground, "Fucking run, you idiot!"

You'd stumbled back and done as she said, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste to leave the hulking figure and everything, everything he stirred in you behind. You chanced a glance over your shoulder as you left and saw that he'd picked Meg up at last—just one of his enormous, spidery hands was enough to fully encircle her waist.

Your eyes met his once more and he smirked, his free hand thumbing the brim of his tall hat in an antiquated gesture of farewell. The instant you turned away, your chest constricted with the feeling of needly claws around your heart and you hissed through your teeth. You looked down and saw those finger-like claws of the Entity in miniature beneath the skin of your chest, nearly retching at the way they stretched your flesh.

When you'd collapsed at a gen next to David, he'd glanced over and seen the new deformation around your throbbing heart.

"Fuck me," he mumbled, his scratched cheeks still trickling blood as he fought dissociation to focus on the generator in front of him. "I didn't know he did obsessions."

He did apparently. But only when you were in the trial. And it was always you.

You'd all died that first trial with minimal effort on Zestial's part. You'd come to understand later that this was perhaps a display of the ease with which he could dispatch you at any point. Because subsequent trials with him were different. Much different.

The most memorable one had been the last one, perhaps a week ago now assuming your sense of time could be trusted, in the Red Forest. Mother's Dwelling specifically, if you had the map variants correct. Cold rain had drizzled down from a steely sky as you'd felt that painful cage wrap around your heart again, warning you that you were the obsession in this trial as you set off to find a chest.

It'd been quite some time since you'd last faced the Overlord prior to then and you'd been able to write off his smirks and gestures as part of his persona up until that point. It had nothing to do with you.

Or so you'd thought.

It hadn't even occurred to you to be wary of the chests. It wasn't one of the Lich's and unless whoever the killer was this trial had a specific perk to notify them that a chest was being disturbed, you saw no reason to fret. Your only concern was getting it open and looted before you ran into the whoever the killer was this round.

You'd prayed for a toolbox to replace the one you'd foolishly forgotten at the campfire as you reached for the lid, only to be stalled by something you couldn't immediately see.

You'd tried to give your arms a shake, eyes narrowing with confusion until realization dawned. Glistening, diamondlike droplets of rainwater clung to the near-invisible strands of spider web woven in thick, previously hidden layers over the chest you'd reached for and had secured you in place on contact.

"Flies in a Web," you'd whispered in horror as you recognized the perk effect and forced yourself to still.

Feng had told you about this one after she'd been ensnared by it once before and had stopped you from trying to help her out of it. She'd held completely still and told you to do the same if you were ever in her position, even if you could shake them off faster at a cost—struggling against these webs would bring the Overlord right to you.

It was him again.

And it didn't matter that you'd stilled, it seemed. The air had shifted and staled, feeling heavy in itself, as a humid breath fanned across the back of your neck.

You'd jolted. You couldn't help it. And the next warm exhale came in the form of a chuckle because of that.

Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around…

You hung your head and held your breath. The second you looked at him, you'd reveal your teammates with that same panic that always started a trial against him—you wouldn't be the one to do it this time. Not again. Not when it would hinder your team and give you an exposure effect for an even easier down. Not that he needed help to accomplish that.

"Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"

You froze. He could speak? You'd only ever heard a handful of killers do more than grunt. The Overlord had been silent up to this point save for the occasional chuckle or sneer, as far as you knew.

Your heart had flown, aching in its cage of claws, as you focused on not collapsing into a panic of your own, of keeping your eyes down and remaining still as you waited for the claustrophobic sensation to be dispelled with the webbing on your arms. It couldn't be much longer now…

Zestial had chuckled in your ear, his hot breath against the shell making you shiver in spite of yourself. "So responsive in all but voice… I asked thee a question," he murmured.

You'd been horrified at yourself as his deep timbre sent a shock of heat down to your core. Shaking off the unwelcome sensation as best as you could, you'd wondered if it was better for you to speak to him.

He'd likely kill you either way, wouldn't he? What was the harm?

"What do you mean?" you ventured to ask, still keeping your eyes trained on your hands as you waited for his webs to disintegrate and tried to hold off activating his first-sight perk you couldn't remember the name of.

In truth, the altruistic thing for you to have done would've been to look back at him and trigger it early—no one else was nearby, so only you would be exposed. But you weren't trying to save the others anymore by then. You weren't near so selfless anymore after the last handful of trials in which you'd been left to die over and over.

You wouldn't protect them anymore the way you had. Not for free.

"I meant what I hath said. Is this enough for thee f'r the rest of thy days?" he purred against your ear, the heat of him now settled just behind your back and the contrastingly cold skin of his cheek near to brushing yours. "Or doth thee desire more?"

Perhaps once, you would've used some semblance of faith to shrug off what could only be called a devil's temptation. But where was your God when you died? When the Entity—a real god, if a false one—dragged you into what could only be regarded as Hell itself? What did you have now to fight this feeling?

Nothing. So why should you?

The Overlord sensed your hesitation and whispered, "Forsake thy friends. Forsake thy freedom, if thee can liken this to such distant dreams. I can off'r thee a deal beyond aught else in this realm of the damned. If thou wouldst only allow it…"

"What deal?" you whispered back, your gaze starting to slowly travel back toward where his mouth hovered near your ear. The webs had gone from your arms, but you hadn't noticed, enraptured by this quiet voice full of promises.

"What doth thou wish?" he wondered.

You'd hesitated only to jolt in place when you felt his huge hands rest against your thighs—they would've been able to wrap fully around them if he'd angled them so. However, he trailed his spread, spindly fingers up along the inner seam of your jeans and sent shocks of desire to the vee he deftly avoided to instead trace his claws against the hem of your shirt and the soft skin beneath.

You'd not been able to help rubbing your thighs together to try and dispel the sensation—a meager, quick shift of your body but he'd noticed. A dark chuckle had left him after.

"Methinks I may know, little one."

A generator finally popped in the distance, freeing both of you from whatever spell he'd placed you under. A faint sound of irritation rumbled in his throat and you felt him rise behind you to leave. You felt your body stiffen, learnedly bracing for impact.

"Think on thine sins," he advised you in parting. "Those thou hast committed ere this night…and those thy dream of anon. I will await thine answer."

You'd (stupidly) turned to look at him then and had just been lucky he'd left already. You had the chest open—it'd been a first-aid kit in the end—and had seated yourself at a gen before you heard and felt his panic-inducing perk activate. You had immediately fumbled the wires you were working on, cursed at yourself, and tried to get the repairs back to where they'd been before your misfire.

He'd properly gotten in your head that night. And he's still there. Even now, sitting beside the campfire and bundling offerings, you can feel his hands on your legs. His fingertips tracing upward, just shy of where you—Heaven help you—wanted him most.

Your jaw clenches. It's no wonder everyone is creeped out by you. You're sick.

Shaking off those thoughts of self-loathing, you look back down at the offering you're making and immediately recoil hard enough for it to tumble off your knees.

The sachet had been speared through, all but replaced by the bones and guts of a tanager bird and wound up in the same knots of twine. Worst of all, it was fashioned into a formation that resembled the arms of the Entity. You'd stared up into those ascending arms so many times already, both as you lay dying among them and in the times you were seconds too late to save someone else.

Where the bundle clattered to the dirt near the fire, sparks leapt out and ignited it. The acrid smell of burning bloody offal hit your nose as the offering you had apparently made was turned to ash at your feet.

The shaky breath that fell from your lips obscured the softer, deviant chuckle that ghosted from beyond where the flickering light of the flames could reach.

"Whatever's fucking with you today, get over it now," Meg grits at you as you walk with her, Jonah, and Claudette to the starting area. "I'm not saving your ass every time you get yourself hooked in the endgame. There could've been 'Blood Warden' and then we would've all gotten killed! Don't get fucking hooked when the gates are open!"

"Don't be so harsh, Meg," Claudette pleads, surveying their surroundings with undisguised unease as the woodsy path shivers around them and shifts into the Eyrie. Crows swarm the top of the tower at the center of the map, their cries piercing the air.

You grind your teeth together as you feel your chest constrict. You're the obsession this round. Some quiet, surely deranged part of you wonders with something almost eager if it's the Overlord again.

"If I'm not harsh, none of them ever learn," Meg shoots back and the two of them share a thousand-yard look that only comes from being in the throes of the Entity's grasp for so long. Something vulnerable passes through Meg's expression, but it's quickly extinguished as she turns back toward the map. "Hurry up. We're wasting time."

She walks past you with a hard clip of her shoulder to yours and you stumble, body rigid as you swallow your anger and the urge to scream at her. To turn on her. To put her on a hook yourself.

Have you always been this filled with rage?

You almost swing at the person who touches you next, but you still when you meet Claudette's apologetic eyes.

"She means well," she says softly, imploringly.

"Yeah," you murmur, shying away from her hand and heading into the arena, yourself. "You keep saying that."

What are you supposed to think when the kindest touch, the kindest offer you'd yet received in this wretched place had come from someone who had killed you? Who would likely kill you again? And again?

And again.

As you pass one of the sandstone outcroppings, you pause and listen. A faint crackling sound meets your ears again, almost as easily mistaken for the dead tree branches also rustling nearby despite a lack of wind. When you step back and worm your way through the rocky formations, you spot a lit totem nestled against a stony curve. You hunker down into a crouch and set to work dismantling it, working your lip between your teeth as you do so.

What would they do?

In your place, if offered an out—or even a sliver of something, anything!—from one of the killers, the persuasive Overlord in particular, what would the others do? They acted high and mighty with you at times, certainly, but you couldn't imagine they wouldn't buckle at least a little at the notion of…whatever it was you were being offered.

He'd left that up to you, hadn't he?

The last ties around the bones beneath your hands slip free and a resounding crack echoes through the map as the hex breaks and the flames licking the skulls now decorating the ground die away with a flicker.

Normally the thing to do would've been to hurry off. Go find a gen or at least walk around the corner in case the killer comes to see who's meddling with their plans.

You stay though. The squeeze of the cage in your chest increases as blood begins to roar in your ears and the air swells with something that just bridges the gap between music and a coming storm. The faint keen of a violin confirms who you will turn to see before you shift your gaze upward.

Meeting Zestial's eyes has its usual first-time effect. Panic rises in the form of bile in your throat and you hear your teammates shriek, near and far, from their stations. Anxiety muddles your senses, panic that isn't yours but induced by the power itself.

You feel a little drop of blood run from your nose as you hold his stare and watch his Jack-O-Lantern smile creep higher up his cheeks.

"Bold of thee not to flee, little one," he intones, stepping closer until he stands with you in the stone crevasse, his towering figure easily surpassing the height of the formations. "Or foolish. Unless, of course, thou hast come to some conclusion…"

He leans down toward your face to study your eyes. You saw them—wide and unsure—reflected in his. "I am most eager to learn which is thine truth."

"I think I want…," you force yourself to stammer out, stopping and holding a hand against your mouth as you hesitate. You could smell the dusty earth still on your fingertips from the totem, lingering notes of sand and rot.

"Go on," Zestial urges you, his tone kind and encouraging while something impatient like hunger alights his eyes.

"A deal," you finally choke out.

All four of his luminescent lime-green eyes flare at your words.

"A deal forsooth?" he purrs, the top pair of his eyes flickering with red irises for an instant until they calm back to a placid lake of pure green once more. "How curious. I am listening with mine full attention. As is She."

"She?" you repeat in a lowered voice, instinctively glancing around for signs of Meg or Claudette.

The Overlord chuckles. "The Entity, little one," he explains, his smile curling into a sinister grin as if sharing a well-kept secret. "She hungers."

"For what?" you ask, realizing how dumb your question sounds only after you speak it into existence.

Zestial merely hums though, as if your silly question is worth consideration. "For thine bodies of course," he says and the way his voice drops into a deeper tone sends shivers skimming up your spine. His eyes narrow on you and, although there are no pupils present to follow, you can feel him taking you in. "An unending craving nigh only sacrifice may appease."

"And whatever you're offering…has something to do with that?" you inquire with caution.

He smiles at you, the expression almost warm. When was the last time someone looked at you with warmth?

Something inside you begins to break. Is it from the pressure of the cage around your heart? You ask yourself that, even knowing it isn't.

"Forsooth, little one," he practically coos down at you, painfully gentle as he brushes the trail of blood away from your nose.

Somewhere a gen pops and your gaze flickers sideways toward the sound while his own stays completely fixed upon you. He takes your chin and turns your attention back to him, the grip of his long, clawed fingers tight but not painful. Not yet.

"Thy fate is sealed upon manifesting within this realm to oppose me," he warns you as you fight the urge to sag into his touch. The danger and the savior—he represents both now and you aren't sure which one is the truth.

He has you right where he wants you—a fly in a web.

"What doth thou wish to exchange f'r the heads of thy comrades? For thy head, verily?"

Your eyes widen. You'd committed to not sticking your neck out for the others anymore, but to offer them on a platter to the Entity? To him?

They would do it to you, whispers a traitorous voice, a tickle in the back of your skull. It doesn't entirely sound like yours though. They would sell you in an instant. You know it to be true.

"That's the only option?" you ask carefully, shuddering as he curiously runs his fingertips along your jawline. Around a lock of your hair. "That's the only way?"

Zestial nods with feigned compassion. "It is the only currency of this realm. Naught else is valued," he tells you as his hand skims down to your throat. "Or little else, perhaps, with regards to thee."

"What do you mean?" you ask again, feeling like it's the tenth time you've asked the same question.

It's hard to focus when he's touching you with hands that can and have plucked you right off your feet and slammed you onto a meat hook. When he's instead brushing those same digits across your scarred flesh with a rare, unspoken tenderness.

It isn't lost on you that a being that could kill you, that is meant to kill you and is choosing not to, instead finds you interesting enough to touch. To bargain with. In fact, it's disturbingly enthralling to you, but you don't realize that until heat blossoms in your core again, just like before.

Zestial just smiles at you instead of answering your repetitious question. He knows you needn't ask any longer what he means by his implications. You know.

You swallow hard under his burning gaze. "Okay," you murmur at last. If you were going to die again anyway, you should at least get something out of it.

"Exquisite," he whispers, running the pad of this thumb across your lower lip and freeing it from your teeth. "And what of thine reward, hm?"

You shudder. Your thighs tense and squeeze together as you draw in a shaky breath. His charcoal skin smells like brimstone, ink, and old books—you catch traces of all three as he continues to stroke your face.

"I thought you knew," you murmur sheepishly, shame washing over you.

"Of course, I do," Zestial coos, encroaching further on your personal space as the hand holding your chin tips your head back. Another two gens pop in succession as he murmurs, "For the sake of our deal, I would have thee speak it."

Your face goes red with deepened shame as he stares down at you expectantly, holding your head in a grip that doesn't allow you to look away. "Please…," is all you can muster, the barest breath of a whisper.

"Please…?" he coaxes you to continue as his free hand slides around the small of your back. Presses your smaller, so much more breakable body against his.

Something unmistakably hard digs into your stomach as he holds you to him and you fear you might give away your very soul for free in this moment if he only asks.

This is also what finally pulls the words out of you that he is looking to hear.

"Please just… I just want to feel good," you plead, feeling weak beyond measure as the dam breaks. A stream of tears escapes your right eye and falls against his hand. "I can't remember the last time I felt anything but hurt or angry or alone… I just want to feel good. Just for a little while. So I…"

You avert your eyes—shame reignites in your belly. You still aren't fully sure what you're asking for—or rather what you'll get by asking for it—even as you, at last, confess your poorly concealed desire.

"…I want you to fuck me."

Zestial's brow rises despite knowing that's where this was heading all along—all these centuries in the Entity's realm and he's never quite gotten used to the way modern language has worked in such harsh words with such casual meanings. Yet these particular sharp words from you inspire a dark coil in his gut that makes your request feel just as much his reward as it will be yours.

"Thine wish is for the taking," he murmurs as he slides the hand cradling your face down your neck to your shoulder—past the puncture scars he himself has added to—and then ultimately down to your hand. He clasps it as a flash of green light erupts from between your palms, his engulfing yours in full. "And a deal is struck."

You very nearly whine when he lets you go, but you swallow the sound. Somehow, despite quieting before you can embarrass yourself, he seems well aware of your disappointment.

"Do not beest so somber, little one," he murmurs, playfully tapping your nose with the tip of a claw. "Thine aura is mine to behold—and mine is thine. Aid thy sacrifices, then thou mayst find me in the collapse. I shall linger with bated breath 'til next we meet."

You aren't sure how you're meant to manage the elixir of dread and arousal flooding your veins until that time, but you do as he asks. Slinking off, you find an unrepaired generator and come across Jonah already bumbling through repairs on one side, the sluggish rate of the pistons something you might've found discouraging had you not already known how the trial would end.

How, for once, you were looking forward to the endgame.

Jonah gets his wires crossed and the generator blows back at him with a series of cantankerous sparks. He waves the air in front of him and glances at you fleetingly but with an air of sheepishness in place of his usually dismissive gaze. You just shrug and nod at the gen for him to get back to it, your own deftly done repairs already getting most of the progress back that he'd lost with his error.

The silent understanding between you isn't unwelcome. It's just a touch too late.

Your gen pops to life and Zestial suddenly swoops in out of the shadows, raking his claws up your back and shoving you aside to lunge after Jonah. Your fellow survivor bolts, panicking into a vault he's not ready to take and paying for it with a loss of speed—Zestial easily plucks him from the sill and drags him, kicking and thrashing in protest, toward the nearest hook.

You pull yourself off the ground by gripping the finished gen, stumbling away and wondering for an instant if you hallucinated the entire exchange between you and the Overlord earlier on. You suppose you might be unhinged enough by now to be delusional. Perhaps this was the more likely outcome anyway.

However, a sideways glance of his glowing green eyes and a faint, almost rueful smile says that you didn't and he's instead helping both of you save face. You scurry off to find a med kit or one of your teammates to help you patch up.

Meg finds you before you find anything at all. She spots your blood trail after dismantling a dull totem near the mausoleum and follows you, nearly startling you into a cry when she suddenly steps up behind you and pushes you down to her level.

"Quiet," she mumbles, pulling the fabric of your T-shirt back from the bleeding clawmarks. She begins rummaging in her pockets for the remnant of a bandage roll she still has from the med kit she came in with. Zestial must've gotten her earlier, too, before finding you and Jonah.

She pulls the bandages too tight when she's distracted by Jonah screaming in the distance, suspended at last on a sacrificial hook. When she hears the hmph of discomfort that escapes you, she shakes off her nerves and mutters a halfhearted, "Sorry."

Bandaged up and mobile, you readjust your shirt and she hangs back to help you—perhaps a wordless apology for her earlier attitude—and then sprints in the direction of Jonah's cries without further ado.

There's one generator left to do before the gates are powered and, spurred on by a drive that rivals anything the Entity could've inspired in you before, you find it. Claudette's already on it, blood dripping from her back, which has been sliced not dissimilarly to yours.

Something in you begins to eat at itself when you consider offering to help her wrap her wounds, knowing despite that surge of compassion what your deal with the Overlord—at least to some degree—will ultimately do to her. You know this time that going through the motions of suturing or binding up her cuts won't stop her from being annihilated with the rest of the team, yourself included, when the realm begins its tradition of falling apart around you. It's a time-old ritual of splintering, festering earth and the deep, foreboding toll of a bell you can't see with each tone signifying another moment to escape transpired.

You still offer because you aren't a monster, even if you're starting to feel a bit like one.

"Do you want to patch those up before we pop this?" you ask, pausing to glance behind you to make sure you're alone.

Claudette gives you a watery smile and stops what she's doing, presenting her back to you as she passes you her unused first-aid supplies.

"See?" she says as you pop open the box and get out some disinfectant and a suture set. "You're getting better. I was about to set this off like the Entity just dragged me down here yesterday."

Guilt pools in the base of your stomach. It rivals oddly with the lingering lust. The shame is spread evenly between the two, bridging the gap.

"It's not always the smart thing to do, I guess, but since we have time," you muse, hoping you sound as casual as you're attempting to.

"Yeah, it's weird," Claudette says, wincing a little as your unpracticed hands stitch her wounds but saying nothing to discourage you. "Folie à Deux happened pretty early"—that's what his panic perk is called—"and then we didn't see hide nor hair of him until just a few minutes ago. Did you see him first or did Jonah?"

Your belly churns. "I did," you say honestly. "I cleansed that hex and happened to see him when I was leaving the area. I think he was coming back to see who'd broken it."

"That was a good early find," Claudette says, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention in full to what she's saying. "Who knows what that might've been."

You hum agreement as you finish bandaging over her stitches. "All done," you say, handing her back the remainder of her med kit and settling yourself adjacent to her spot at the gen.

"Thanks," she murmurs, the sparks from the wires she tinkers with reflecting in her large glasses as she picks up where she left off. "I think we may all get out this time."

You can taste your own stomach acid as you say, "I hope so."

The generator pops and the gate sirens wail, one coming from across the map while the other goes off directly behind you both.

"C'mon!" she says, eagerly pulling you toward the gate just past the stone wall you're situated behind.

You hesitate, turning to look back at the eyrie and the graveyards sprawled around it. You espy a tall, rosy silhouette—an aura—within the eyrie itself, ascending the stairs with such grace it almost appears to glide.

When you make yourself look away to figure out how to escape Claudette's attention, you notice the switch she's about to grab.

"Wait!" you suddenly shout, stalling her with your urgency. "Look!"

Claudette casts a confused look at the switch but gives you the benefit of the doubt and steps around to view it from the same angle as you. Thick, faintly dusted ropes of spiderweb layer over the switch, presenting a trap for anyone too eager to pull the handle.

"Ugh," she mumbles, shrinking back from the spiderwebs. "Good eye. Maybe Meg and Jonah have the other one done already. Let's go see."

"I'll catch up," you say and she pauses to cock her head at you. "I have a glyph I was supposed to find. I'm going to take the long way around to see if I can spot it."

Claudette hesitates. "…Okay," she slowly agrees. "But don't get yourself killed, alright? We've made it this far. And the Overlord's not someone to screw around with." She cracks a smile. "Plus, I think Meg will actually kill you this time if you get hooked after they get the gate open again."

You shrug and offer her the best smile you have available. "Probably," you agree. "I won't be long."

Claudette blessedly leaves you to it and you feel bad about how easily she believes your lies. Even though warning her would do nothing, you still feel a slight urge to do so as you wait for her to leave and then begin your walk to the center building.

Still though, even if she was never cruel to you, did she ever really help you? What did you owe her, in all actuality?

Perhaps what you'd already given her—a healing touch and a well-wish. A chance for a gate you knew that, one way or another, none of you would be crossing today.

The cawing of the circling murder gets louder as you enter the building, the acoustics of the structure the truest thing of horror on this godforsaken map. At pace, but on shaky legs, you round to the stairs and begin the climb, spotting the static silhouette of the Overlord through the far wall on the top floor. Outside on the balcony.

When you arrive, you see that this side of the wraparound ledge provides a perfect vantage point of the other gate.

"Behold," Zestial murmurs as you join him, standing a polite distance from his side.

You follow his gesturing hand to the gate and see Jonah down there, still injured—likely because Meg used the last of her bandages on you—and holding down the gate lever with the strength he could still muster. It'd always bemused you how hard he took his first hook. While the rest of you were running on fumes and a death wish, every cut and minor inconvenience seemed to take years off his undead life.

The gate buzzer sounded. Once. Then twice. And then three times as the doors rattled open.

The entire gateway past the doors was covered in layer upon layer of webbing. So thick that the entirety of the other side, the exit and the field that would take them all back to the campfire, was obscured. There may as well have been nothing there at all.

You swear you can somehow hear them from your perch despite knowing it's impossible. Still, you aren't sure you need to hear Meg say "what the fuck" to know that Meg has said "what the fuck."

Your concern is flaky at best as you feel Zestial's hulking form slide up behind you, the expanse of his hands folding over your hips and pulling you back against the straining erection beneath his silken robes. You shudder, that mixture of fear and longing back and burning in your core, slicking the heat beneath your skirt. He hums softly against your hair, inhaling deep, and you aren't sure how you know, but you know he can smell your arousal by the way he presses harder against you.

"Thine sacrifice is made, little one. Thy first," he whispers over the shell of your ear, sounding almost proud. He shifts you by your hips, turning you and walking you back against the stone wall behind you both.

For a second, you think he might be shielding you from whatever is about to happen down on the ground, but he's doing no such thing.

Like you weigh nothing, he lifts you up, presses your back against the stone, and positions your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs clench in needy humiliation as Zestial puts himself at eye level with your wet, aching hole beneath just a skirt and the thin fabric of your underwear. You bite back a groan as he noses into the wet spot you've made there. You're practically panting as his hands curl fully around your thighs and he nuzzles into your heat with abandon.

Hooking a claw beneath the waistband, he removes the slip of fabric from beneath your skirt with surgical precision, tearing it out of his way and smirking at the way your body jerks with surprise above him. He feels your fingers burying themselves against his back for balance, not fully trusting him with your weight or at least not completely understanding that you weigh next to nothing straddling his shoulders.

The deep inhale he takes of your near-to-dripping cunt feels like sin incarnate.

"We begin," he murmurs just as the first bell of the endgame collapse belatedly tolls and he slides his too-long, monstrous tongue languidly along your lower lips.

Meanwhile, you remain hoisted and pinned in place, left to helplessly watch that which you've wrought upon the match. All while desperately grasping for purchase on his cloaked shoulders as he plows your tight channel with his tongue, reaching far deeper than your human fingers could ever go. It takes no time at all for him to have you moaning, crying out for relief, and wriggling in his grasp while your teammates scream for a far different release below.

"There has to be a way out, there has to be another way out!" Meg is rambling, in a full-blown panic. Her voice hitches up into a shriek as she yells, "There's ALWAYS another way out!"

"The other gate had webs on the switch, but maybe it's clear inside!" Claudette stammers, her eyes wet with frightened tears. "But wait, we have to get—"

"Forget her!" Meg shouts, her fingers knotting into her hair as she claws at her scalp. "She went off on her own and, even if she were over here with us, she's just as fucked!"

Claudette nods, reaching for Meg's arm and then thinking better of touching her right now. "Then let's—"

Claudette's no sooner started to suggest the alternative route again when the hook behind her pitches forward, forced into a bend by the long black limbs of the Entity, and spears her through the shoulder with its tungsten fang.

She screams as it repositions and yanks her back, the claws immediately descending upon her and bypassing the usual state of a first hook. Claudette is barely able to catch the claw that rounds down to impale her before it can succeed.

"CLAUDE!" Meg shouts, sprinting to get her down while Jonah loses his nerve behind her, whirling this way and that as if he might somehow spot a third exit where there is none.

Not yet, anyway, he realizes.

You've lost yourself in full above them, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as you feverishly ride Zestial's face and he ruts for any semblance of friction against the wall he's pinned you to. He traces near-bruising circles over your clit as he continues to devour you, body and soul, and it's enough to make you unravel.

"Oh, fuck, please, Zestial, I can't—"

"Thou canst. Thou will."

He intends to make you come and a strategic curl of the oral muscle he stuffs back inside you ensures it.

His ministrations pull a genuine scream from you just as another scream echoes from below—this time from Meg, who's suffered the same fate as Claudette after unwittingly wandering too close to another hook. She's shrieking for Jonah to unhook them, but he's already made up his mind. He's waiting for them to die for a chance at the hatch. The second Meg realizes this, she hurls every insult at him she can think of.

Trembling as you try to unclench your thighs from around his head, needlessly fearful yet again of what match you might be to his strength, you raggedly suck in a breath and practically turn to jelly as he removes you from his shoulders and holds you like something cherished.

You think he might be finished with his end of the bargain—and fair enough, you'd half-expected him to take what he wanted from you, to use the loose wording of your deal and move things along as quickly or perhaps even as violently as possible to punish you for the loopholes you've allowed—until he takes you to the edge of the balcony.

You hear the hatch pop open down below as Zestial lays you across the crumbling stone edge of the overlook, your spine bowing back as he lets your limp weight settle in its new spot. He tangles one of his enormous hands in your hair and cranes your head back until you're able to watch, the realm on its inverse, as Jonah betrays the girls and makes a mad dash for the open hatch.

"Feel naught for those thou hast forsaken," the Overlord murmurs into your ear as you witness the remainder of the trial in detached delirium. He bends over you as one hand stays fisted in your hair and the other pushes aside his cloak and frees his hard, leaking cock from his pants. He grasps the base and pumps once, twice, three times, as he murmurs in a voice deeper and more gravelly than before, "These fools art purest folly compared to thee."

The second Jonah is within arm's length of the hatch, it snaps shut, and that's also the instant Zestial pushes into your primed, pliable entrance. He coos praises into your ear and drops a chaste kiss against your temple when you whimper. Still, he continues to stretch you beyond what you've taken before. It hurts, but it feels better than anything you can fathom, and the coil in your lower belly begins to tighten again as he finds a leisurely, thorough pace that agrees with him.

Your eyes roll back in ecstasy and it grants you a look at Jonah as he stumbles back from the slammed-shut hatch. He is immediately snatched by the very hook the hatch spawn was meant to lure him to, his keening screech mingling amongst the screaming crows circling with ever more fervor above. The bell tolls again and the ground around the tower begins to break apart in fiery, shuddering fissures.

There's a hollow sound that echoes through the map as Claudette ceases to struggle and is speared through by the Entity, its gnarled limbs crooking around her like a spider's legs as it lifts her up into the vacant sky. A sky you see stars in for the first time in what feels like an eternity as Zestial cants his hips just right and hits that sensitive, spongey spot inside you.

"Right there, right there, right there," you babble like a prayer, pressing your forehead against Zestial's when he leans in to tighten his hold around you and secure you in the position he wants. That he knows you both need. "Please, Zestial, please, I—"

The Overlord shushes you softly and brushes his lips across your face, his hand relaxing its grip on your hair now that there's nothing else below to witness. Instead, he simply cradles the base of your skull as he thrusts up into you and turns your whines back into wanton screams.

"T'is mine intention to take care of thee, little one, rest assured," he mumbles against your cheek, his pace stuttering as he feels his own release approaching. "Wouldst thou allow me to—" A surprise cant of your hips that lets him fuck even deeper into you takes him by surprise and he groans low into your ear, the sound making you shudder and pushing you closer to euphoria. "—to care for thee?"

You're not completely sure what he means, but you won't be asking that question anymore today.

"Yes," you moan, crying out as he shows his approval for your response with an intentional, deep thrust of his cock.

He seals his lips over yours and you grant him full access to your mouth without his needing to ask, tasting yourself on his tongue as he pounds into you and swallows your screams. You flutter and clench around him, your body desperately milking his until he can no longer hold off his own pleasure.

The hot rush of his seed filling you up nearly makes you come again in your oversensitive state and you whine as he fucks his release deeper into you, tilting your body back just a little more as if to make sure not a drop of the load you both worked so hard to spill escapes you.

Your arms and legs remain entangled around his body as your own body continues to shake with aftershocks. Your shivers stem from pleasure and not from fearing how easily he could send you plummeting from the tower if he chose to let go. You realize with some surprise that you, perhaps foolishly, trust him not to drop you at least.

You can't help another shiver when he finally pulls his softening cock from your heat and you whimper from too much sensation at once. He collects you in his arms again and lets you bury your face against his neck as he adjusts himself back into his pants and fixes his cloak, watching with fascinated satisfaction as your mixed releases drip down your quaking thighs.

He smooths your hair back from your head and kisses your cheek again, surprised at the depth of feeling this venture has unexpectedly brought him.

The final toll of the bell sounds and you tense in a Pavlovian response. You wait to be speared by the Entity and forcibly dragged down to respawn at the fire. You know you need to start conjuring your tale of what happened this endgame if you're ever going to be taken off a hook or healed again.

And yet…nothing happens.

Claudette, Meg, and Jonah have all long been taken. The map settles after the final toll, the ground pulling itself back together with the god of this realm appeased, and then…nothing.

"What's happening?" you whisper warily, as if speaking too loudly will alert the Entity that She missed a morsel on her trial grounds.

Zestial pauses to admire you in the afterglow before glancing skyward and then down toward the mending earth. "It would seem thou hast found your true place within the realm," he murmurs, the whispers of the Entity an undercurrent of song amidst the avian cacophony above you both. "For thy lovely hands, verily, be the lovely hands of a killer."

Your eyes widen. "A killer?" you repeat, your voice shaking.

He hums and begins your joint descent to the ground floor, carrying you along as you slowly recover control of your body and your shaking starts to cease.

"She is pleased with thee," Zestial tells you as he strides toward the edge of the map—an edge of the map you've never been privy to before. One that branches off into a darker, denser part of the woods you know. "Thou hast far more potential than a lamb for slaughter, little one. I didst know it from the first time mine eyes beheld thee. She doth know it now that thou hast proven thyself. Now the sole epiphany we wait f'r is thine own."

Your fingers tighten against his cloak, the fabric soft and cool against your warm skin. A glance down the path he approaches fills you with uncertainty, but something stirs awake as well. Something you've felt within you from the beginning, perhaps the very thing your "comrades" sensed as well.

And as you meet Zestial's eyes and nod for him to take you through, to take you with him, your soul settles as if for the first time—as if this is where it should've been all along.

This time, at least, you know precisely what you've done.

Bonus A/N: In case anyone's interested in the loadout details I wrote for Zestial before starting the story, here ya go. :)

Perk Loadout

Folie à Deux - A panic born in a crowd can mean the end for everyone. After the killer is sighted for the first time by a survivor, all survivors become aimless and scream for 15 seconds if 2+ survivors are within 50 meters of each other. If any survivors are within 10 meters of the killer, they also become exposed for a quick 5-second period.

Overlord's Influence - Strike a deal with a survivor. The survivor gets one more hook state before death but all progressive actions (healing, gens, gates) are at half-speed for the rest of the match. By contract, the survivor's aura and the killer's will be revealed to each other in the endgame collapse.

Flies in a Web - The lure of something tasty can be a tragic downfall. Two chests in the game are covered with a spiderweb that becomes visible after a survivor interacts with the chest. They're held in place for 15 seconds and a notification is given to the killer (additional notifications occur if the survivor struggles, but the effect wears off more quickly if they struggle). The chest can be opened normally after the web is activated.

Addons

(iri) Liminal Teacup - When hooking a survivor, any survivors within a 30-meter radius doing a progressive action (gens, healing) stop what they're doing (are interrupted).

(purple) Sewing Kit (patchwork hat) - Adds an extra 10 seconds to webs. When "Flies in a Web" is equipped, if no chests are disturbed for the entire round, one of the gate switches is webbed instead.

Check out the rest of the crew and their amazing works via the #hookedonhazbin2024 tag!

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Thanks for reading and happy Halloween! 🎃👻

[destinationtrekk]

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last updated: october 24, 2024

requests: open!

all my writing is gender neutral unless otherwise specified. i'm human and bad grammar/mistakes happen. if you don't like, don't read!

all of my oneshots are posted to ao3!

ஜ albert wesker x reader

oneshots

☛ i notice (when you're not around) : 2.3k, mature, ao3 link

▸ He promised to always answer when you needed him, no matter what. Or, 5 times he answers your call, and one time you answer his.

☛ not there yet : 1.3k, teen, ao3 link

▸Wesker doesn't realize he's in a love story until he's nearly too late.

☛ daybreak : 1.1k, teen, ao3 link

▸Even a hardened Captain needs a break sometimes.

☛ nightfall : 2.2k, teen, ao3 link

▸ Your Captain returns the favor. Sequel to daybreak

☛ arcadia: 1.9k, teen, ao3 link

▸ This is only a dream, and you will never hear that laugh again.

ficlets (long asks)

☛ getting a hug when you're sick : fluff

☛ wesker and pregnant!reader : afab!reader

☛ wesker trauma comfort

☛ young!wesker at a party

☛ inexperienced oral : nsfw

☛ wesker showing you off to your ex : nsfw

☛ CNC with wesker : nsfw, read trigger warnings first!

☛ Albert Wesker NSFW Alphabet : nsfw

☛ domestic wesker : nsfw, afab!reader

☛ domestic wesker : nsfw, amab!reader

☛ aftercare with wesker : nsfw

☛ wesker and vampire!reader

☛ uroboros!wesker's psyche

headcanons and asks

tags to follow

☛ 2024 trekk'o'ween

☛ amab!reader tag

☛ platonic!wesker

☛ tattoo artist!wesker

☛ cat!wesker tag

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☛ sub!wesker tag : nsfw

spotify playlists + audios

☛ re5 wesker : dark and sexy

☛ s.t.a.r.s. wesker : angsty

☛ post-uroboros wesker : bittersweet and loving

☛ wesker elevenlabs audios

[notthecutesttrash]

Late Night Call

(Alpha/omega AU) Ghostface x reader

Content: You live with your parents, and as an omega who can’t usually go out, you’re alone during your heat. That is until you get a mysterious call.

Warnings: 18+ Smut, rough sex, blood, stalking, mentions of knives, daddy kink

Word count: 6.6k

PART 2

To my favorite killer, enjoy~

The throb in your head was just as brutal as the heat searing around your body or, as the slick producing and pouring down your clammy skin. Grunting, you shifted your body in discomfort once more, your eyes attempting hard to focus on the movie that you had purposely put on for a small attempt to ignore this irritating, biological monthly function. The grunt soon shifted into a small whimper, feeling a pesky bubble in your stomach when you took a nice large inhale through your nose. Your hands quickly shifted to grapple tightly onto the tight cushions beside you, as if to stabilize an already sitting figure. 

There was that alpha scent again, lingering around like a cloud of smoke, stuck to every particle of air. You’ve smelt them all and you always made complaints. Arguing that they were usually all the same. Most scents smelt like sweat, few beautifully good, but this… this was a heavenly smell that you never experienced. Somehow all you wanted was for it to cling down to your clothes, for that specific alpha, whoever it was, to fuck you as their life depended on it, and to knot you… deep and tight. 

The night surrounding your closed windowed house, made it easy to express loneliness, as no one within a mile radius was close. No being was here, just you, all alone, frightened, and in a terrible omega heat. 

Fiddling with the controller, your eyes could barely make out the commands, it was blurred and dark. From this you huffed out, pressing a hand to the pounding ache in your temples, down to the tensity in your neck. There wasn’t even a tad of a helping hand, or at least some fucking cooler that you can stick yourself in. Yet before you could agonize even more on how irritating the situation was, the phone rang. 

It was loud and vexed you as much as an alarm. Nonetheless, you mustered through gritted fear and pain. You reached over to grip the phone tightly. Your hand managed to grasp it so harsh, that it was alarming its counterpart didn’t just get yanked out of its wire. Though if that happened then you'd really be stuck, with a low-battery phone, unable to charge.

“Hello..?” your voice came out in exhausted slurs. 

The voice that answered back with the same word differed plenty. There wasn’t much to go on by, yet you let out a small grunt of disapproval from the dizzy intrigue surrounding your body.

The mysterious person spoke. “Who is this?” He had said as if he hadn’t called you first. If you weren’t in unfortunate shape, then perhaps you would have laughed and joked crudely, but this time you did nothing but struggle to quickly get to the point. 

Your ragged breaths managed to barely declare, “I should ask the same.” Instinctively the man chuckled beneath his breath, and too brisk to shut up or lock away, a small moan released.

How embarrassing, imagine some wrong-number stranger moaning over the phone. 

However, It didn’t appear as if it was heard, and you opened your mouth to speak, taking a turn this time to ask who you were speaking to. It was cut off quickly.

“What’s your name?” The man asked serenely, his voice slow… almost slower than what you assumed to be normal, making you feel every little syllable and breath. Mind clouded with fog, you responded, hardly able to remember that this was some strange random who made a mistake with his calls.

“(Y/n)…” you whispered, eyes clouded with lust.

Swearing you could hear the smirk in his tone, he responded nonchalantly, “(Y/n)… what a pretty name,” it was slow, oh so slow, and gorgeously sexy, with just the right pitch of smugness that made you already more wet then you were.

Exhaling a hitched breath, you nodded quickly, for a second forgetting that this man was over the phone and not in front of you. You weren’t sure what got over you, but the instinctive omega need made your hand slowly move beneath your pants, down your underwear, and over to your soaked folds. 

“What’s wrong (Y/n)?” He then said, coincidentally taunting. 

Your words were spoken through desperate exhales “Nothing.” Fingers swirling at your clit, you let out a tiny… barely noticeable hiss of a moan. Back arching, head craning back against the couch, your dizzy fogged head and blackened vision saw a void that the man managed to speak through… like nothing. 

“Are you sick?” The man presumed, yet even with these words that faked a small sense of worry, you could tell that it was knowing, harsh, and teasing. 

Shaking your head a no rapidly, your teeth dragged your lower lip in, biting softly as you felt a wave of arousal swirl down to your needy heat. “N-No.. I’m just…” trailing off, you thought quickly of what to say, but no utters were voiced. You were only a muddled form, on the brink of orgasm, begging to be filled. 

This time his voice was deliberately intimidating, threatening, and quick. “Just what?”

Moaning in response, your head curved around the tall cushion behind you, fingers striving to stimulate every bit of your nerve-wracking clit. Seeking no response, you continued the treatment towards your throbbing cunt swiftly.  

“Ah… maybe you’re just a little horny omega in heat.” You froze. Your hand is stuck in place, eyes widening instinctively. Suddenly a horrid shiver of fear got sent down to your spine.

“H-How did you know… I was an omega..?” You asked with a sudden spike of anxiousness, a breath caught in your throat. 

“I didn’t,” he stated.

Suddenly you had felt like a fool for revealing such a horrible fact, while you're especially alone in a large house at night, talking to a stranger over the phone. 

 “O-Oh…” you whispered a blatant stutter. 

“You still didn’t answer me omega, are you horny, or are you not?”

The tone became more ridiculing, yet so invigoratingly demanding. In obvious truth, you should have been offended by a stranger who was suddenly asking such odd rude questions. But the rational hidden side of you was stowed away, overpowered by your quivering omega counterpart. It only now cherished the idea of being fucked brutally by some stranger with a hot terrifying voice. At the thought, your fingers continued to softly circle your clit.

“I… no…” you trailed off. 

It was perhaps one of the worst lies you had ever told, but… some part of you didn’t mind him knowing. It felt different, trustworthy, and just.. right, just as this overpowering alpha scent that was near your form. Somewhere… meters away for all you knew. It’s almost as if it was taunting your frightened figure to go waltzing out in the dark forests alone, to likely only find nothing in the end. 

(E/c) blinking up at the light hanging over your head, you somehow quickly felt more sickeningly dizzy. It was like a drug overpowering every sense other than arousal and awareness for this strange being. 

“Oh?” Your pussy twitched harshly. “Is that why your hand is down your cunt then?” 

You weren’t sure what came first, the pure terrifying horror, or the powerful sloppy arousal. A sudden chill blew to your arms and over your neck. Every little goosebump and hair rapidly spiked up.

“What?” You rasped out, fingers shuffling to a quick pause, your eyes widened, and your head instinctively turned to glimpse at the windows facing you. 

Nothing but darkness. 

Taking a sharp inhale through your nose, you begin to quiver through your horror, a shaky moan escaping. This scent was intoxicating, brutal, and so lovely… The scent of an Alpha, nearing closer and closer. God, it began to feel like it was in this very house beside you.

Words were said once more, but this time, you could hardly hear a thing. Instead, you were so focused on that particular powerful smell that you didn’t even manage to notice the ripple of pleasure making its way down to your womanhood, adding to the trickling slick.

“Get up,” he said, drawing you out of the circling daze. It was commanding and strong, and your wobbling legs quickly arose with a quick subliminal nod to his words. Promptly, your hand gripped the top of the couch, hardly walking even a step before he spoke once more, adding much more to the struggle. 

“Keep going princess,” you were shaking, straining to hold upon the walls for support. Your legs were becoming putty, with breaths so labored that you could hardly hear yourself. Any other normal human being should have been paralyzed, angry, irritated at this stupid little joke. But you weren’t… you wanted to listen, you wanted commands, and you oh so desperately wanted loving attention.

A few sluggish steps later you had made it to the kitchen, hands gripping tightly onto the counters as if you were bound to collapse any second. 

“Why?” You whispered out, particularly to no one.  

“I just want to play a game (Y/n), can you handle that for me?” The man questioned smoothly. Slick trickled down your legs, and the fluttering heat produced in your stomach shuffled uncomfortably.

“Y-Yes…” The omega quickly answered, followed by a small curious part of the reason.

“W-Wait… who are you?” The voice from this chuckled, and surely a grin was tugging at his lips.

“If you be a good girl, I’ll tell you, all right?”  

Softly humming in quiet shaky approval, a sudden chill ran over your skin.

But I am a good girl… A small voice whimpered back in your head.

Please fuck me, another small voice begged, hips wiggling at the thought.

Within seconds, the scent increased tenfold. It was close, oh so close. You didn’t know where but you were pleading. With eyes shut, head lulling to the side, you Inhaled deep, a small sweet “alpha” slipping from under your tongue. The man chuckled closely, almost sounding as if it was directly behind your form. In return your knees buckled under your weight, small sweet moans following. 

The omega side soon subsided for a small moment and a horrid realization struck you. A gasp widened your eyes in fear. You pulled your arm away in slow horror to your sight. The phone in your hand said nothing but the time, signifying the call had already ended. The hairs upon the back of your neck raised, and the breath you were to exhale caught in your throat.

Suddenly you heard as clear as day “Turn around omega... Unless you want it to be a surprise." The man bore an even darker tone in person.

Immediately a flicker of dark fear burned into your hammering heart when you realized where the sound had come from. It was as clear as the masked hot breathing down your form, an inch away from your frozen figure. 

Every single form of fear exploded out, and suddenly the thoughts of inevitable demise had burst into your throat. You were unable to move. A hand wrapped in black leather-like fabric, grasped the phone out of your shaky hands and placed it far over the counter. Swallowing a harsh dry lump, you gasped out a terrified breath from a chest full of anxious pain, a trickle of tears eventually forming in your eyes. 

The atmosphere became painfully silent, your body frozen in time. No words were said as you could feel dangerous fingers stroke through your strands softly. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Even with such an action, it felt terrifying, like he was threatening you.

Even with such fear, the urge to lean into the touch was undeniable. The leather-like fingers moved down to the fabric over your back. They graced your shoulders and continued in a single line down your spine. Eventually, they stopped once they hit your hips. 

“Now.. tell me those words you said again.” The mysterious figure ruled, his voice much more clear and terrifyingly close.

Escape wasn’t an option, it was far from one by now. If you had decided to step merely an inch back, you would’ve been leaning into his chest. His voice was down your neck, sending rough chills into the death-like coldness. An odd mixture began to form, a blistering omega heat, mixed with ice-like fear. 

The man’s hand snaked to your front, gently rubbing up your stomach until he reached your breasts. A harsh squeeze choked out a desperate unexpected moan. Your pussy twitched in need, causing the idea of escaping a cloudy figment of imagination. 

“Hmm? I can’t hear you omega.” He leaned down to your ear, another hand gingerly running up to your pulsing airway.

You were supposed to be terrified, quaking in your boots, yet you couldn’t help but lean into his touch lovingly, your form slumping in easy relaxation. A soft appreciating moan escaped once his fingers grazed over your tender needy nipples. Run, a voice told you, hide, another said, then there was the dumb-ass omega side, that broke out with an aching “please.” 

The voice was just the same over the phone.. yet even better… so filled with overbearing domination. “I don’t think so.”

Inhaling another large whiff, a lulled groan too hard to elude slipped from under your tongue. It was your alpha, you knew this and neither did you have a second of doubt. 

A flash of reason pounded hard into your head, and your hand instantaneously lunged for the phone that was only so close. His gloved hand clasped over yours tight and harshly before your fingertips could even grace the object that was oh so close. Ignoring your sad little attempt, he leaned down to you once more. 

“Maybe you need help remembering,” the man teased, a knowing snicker deliberately escaping. “I can always fuck it out of you,” he then adds, almost causing you to sputter out in shock. Your throat went dry, and with widened scared eyes, you realized that the words must’ve slipped. 

“… I-I didn’t-” your struggling remark was ignored as well. The assailant… or whatever he was, leaned down to your neck and inhaled a rather nice large scent. An omega in heat could be smelled from long distances away, but it was different, you were his omega, and nobody else’s. You both seem to be aware of the moment he stepped within a half-mile radius of your area.  

The urge of desire over being marked or claimed was too unbearable, and your biological need caused you to crane your neck into him, begging for the bite to come.

The figure did nothing, and instead, he waited, stalling as you writhed under him, desperately wiggling into his clothed cock. Purposely, he watched your little pained expressions every moment he had exhaled a breath over your neck. 

You desperately bucked your hips into him multiple times. The arousal he felt was obvious, all from your little display and sweet scent. The outline of his hard cock made you moan out with excitement.

“Please… Alpha,” you began to lament endlessly in frustration. Your hips couldn’t help but continuously wiggle into him.

He exhaled roughly, sounding as if you were driving him crazy. His inevitable need queued for aiding his omegas pesky little heat. A primal aroused growl released, and you nearly dropped right then and there.

A gloved hand grabbed at your neck and he pulled your entire body into him forcefully. It staggered you, but luckily because between the counter and him, you weren’t just about to drop yet. 

“A little omega begging to be fixed.” He hummed, a free gloved hand reaching down, beneath your pants to your dripping folds. Moaning loudly in response, you leaned hard into him, barely able to speak with his clutching hold upon your neck. 

“You..” You only managed to sputter out. 

“Good girl. You’re already learning.” The praise alone made you moan out happily and tingle with desire. Into your ear, he declared a chilling yet somehow… comforting threat. 

“If some other asshole even tries, I’ll fucking gut them, you got that?” You should’ve been afraid and horrified, but the instant claim he had over you, made you melt in pride and joy. Yes... you’re his. Only his. 

”Yes alpha..” Your words came in moaned whispers. 

“Mm, I like the sound of that. But it’d be even better if you called me daddy, princess.” Your pussy clenched at the thought, and you nodded. You just loved the idea of calling your alpha daddy as he fucked you senseless. 

“Yes, daddy..” It fell from your lips so naturally, you’d think he already had fucked you before. 

Suddenly he had switched his black leathered hand to the nape of your neck, and before you had any time to respond, he shoved your figure down, bending your upper form harshly over the countertop. A surprised yelp left you once your cheek hit the cold marble, and in that brisk moment, your pants were shoved down to your mid-thighs. 

There it was… an embarrassing display of light pink soaked panties, only for him to see. 

Sliding his finger to a long rub down the damp stain, he spoke, and you shivered. “What a naughty girl, did you get this needy just by hearing my voice?” He hummed, his fingers slowly moving up and down, causing a clenching quiver in your body. It was making the arousal twenty times worse.

God, it felt so good.

 “Ah… oh..mm..” The louder moans that fell from your lips were loving and sweet, just enough for him to let out a loud pleased grunt of his own. You wiggled your hips into him, the lovely sound of his gruff voice drenched your folds almost double the amount.

His movements then switched after his long slow teasing, and his concealed thumb shifted to rotate in swift circles at your clit. Your legs were shaking, and you were trying hard to move and squirm freely under his hold. The pleasure was coiling harshly up in your heat, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing. 

“Or was it smelling me that whole time?” Mouth opening to possibly deny, an immediate gasp forcefully subsided it. Your panties were instantly shoved down to your thighs.

It must have been quite the shameful sight, because he couldn’t help but chuckle darkly, his eyes observing and drinking in the scene of a throbbing drenched cunt twitch at his every little action. He continued his sweet abuse on your clit again.

“Daddy…please.. a-alpha… I..” you began to whine aimlessly, irritated tears nearly releasing, pleading for your pussy to just be filled already.

An irritated growl was released, and he tightened his hold on your nape. “Speak the fuck up.” His tone was much deeper this time. You had ripped the predator from its prey, but you couldn’t care, you were so desperate. 

“Daddy, please! Please!” God, surely you sounded so pathetic. 

“Hm? Still can’t hear you.” He pulls away and your heart sinks at the coiling pleasure instantly dying down. “Guess my slutty little omega doesn’t want to cum.” 

“No! No no! Daddy- Alpha- alpha, please! Please!” At this point you're begging aimlessly, hoping and praying for him to give in. After no eventual response, you draw out a long pitiful, “Alphaaa.” 

He speaks like he's smirking, and asks “what?” like nothing was wrong. You wiggled into his clothed cock, pleading desperately. It was a dangerous game to play, but you no longer cared.

“Claim me, knot me. Please, please.. just fuck me.” Your needy words made him hum, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Louder.” 

The embarrassment turned in you. You go quiet for a bit, pursing your lips.

"Daddy..” you muttered out in a small plead. 

“Say it.” 

“Please fuck me!!” He does the same hum with a tilt of his head, surely a wide grin on his face.

“Louder.”

The frustration and tears force you to yell out the loudest plead you thought possible. “Daddy please fuck me!!!” 

That seemed to instantly work. Within a quick moment of some shuffling, the head of his thick cock, almost leaking with pre-cum, poked at your hole. It pushed in a centimeter, then stopped, shifting to only rub teasingly. You whimpered. The hold over at your neck moved to your shoulder then down your spine. He pressed your squirming form down tightly. 

Unexpectedly, when you had waited for more continuous teasing and were just about to wholeheartedly cry out a beg, he ripped his cock halfway through your walls. Your throat felt like it couldn’t make much for inhale. Neither could you find the room to request a pause… your breaths could only stagger so much. The man’s hips moved, and his splitting cock almost felt as if it was increasing in size, pushing deeply into you, aiming until it couldn’t any longer. 

In a futile attempt to hold onto anything as he continued to slowly bury himself to a hilt inside your aching cunt, you stretched your arm out to reach the end of the counter. Though in his perspective, it surely must've looked as if you were reaching for the phone that had been only a few inches away. With that he held his hand harshly over yours again, igniting a rumble of a whimper.

Within a quick moment, he began to move and pound severely into your walls, and without a chance of accommodation to his size, he pulled out to only slam through the tightness again. It had only been a few seconds and he had already fucked out every little breath you could hold in your body. 

“W-Wait Daddy-“ you were interrupted by a slam of his hips into your cunt, and a thrilling moan escaped your mouth. His hand moved away from yours, and although you were not planning on it, he smacked away the phone with a simple regardless flick, hearing it bounce away and slam onto the floor, almost sounding as if it had exploded into parts. His gloved hand then grabbed a fistful of your hair, and he began to pull at it mercilessly to crane your head back. 

“Oh? Now you want me to wait?” He said, and god you swore his endless sarcasm and smug words, would only make you cum much faster and harder.  

The omega side of you loved this, and you had forgotten any sense of rationality as this alpha had pounded into you viciously. With the hold upon your hair, your pussy held down on his cock, tightening the hold of your walls instinctively. Your moans were continuous and you made no work to conceal them, instead, they began to get louder and louder as you felt every inch of him repeatedly.

Hardly able to hold any time over your words of need, your other less abused arm moved down as much as it could, begging silently for his touch. His fingers curled through yours, intertwining once his second hand dropped from your hair, and he moved to your waist, holding you steady. Head falling weakly with a thud, you continued to take the abuse in your pussy, the abuse that you craved for so long. A wave of shaking pleasure was beginning to form. 

It was clear that you were sobbing, begging for a knot that you could feel within him. Please, please, please, just give it to me before I cum, I’ll do anything, pleaded the voice in your head that made its way to your lips quickly. 

However, you had spoken too soon, and in seconds an alarming frightening climax snuck up. Too immobile and weak to hardly react upon it properly, your coiling pussy trembled as much as your tightened sore muscles. You exhaled a loud cry, legs shaking through the rough quivering release. Your lips soon fell with begs, pleading for him to at least hold on before he cruelly fucked you hard through it. As expected, nothing slowed, and your overworked nerves sobbed.

“Tell me omega, what do you want?” He had a quicker gruff pace to his words, rather than his usual steadiness. It sounded so perfect it made you excited.

“I need y-your knot.. please, give it to me. D-Daddy, I need it so bad- p-please, I- Ah!” His cock split your walls further, hitting at your core with such ease. You moaned hastily, his body curling over yours. It felt delicious.

The thought of him being ready to take whatever he desired with a singular thrust of his hips into your tight anticipating excited body, sent you over the edge.

Beads of sweat from your biological heat rolled down your skin, and your labored breathing sped up higher and higher.

Yes.. this is what you finally wanted. Please.

“Oh, I’ll give you more than that, don’t worry baby.” he declared in a gruff. The grip of his increased, and you knew that his knot was coming, and this produced an ever so pleased moan. You could repeatedly cum just from the thought itself.

He was climaxing soon, and feeling it your hips began to buck and roll onto his prodding shaft, feeling a second instantaneous break about to erupt. He grunted and with this, his pace quickened violently, and you were sure that your eyes were already rolling to the back of your head.

The fucking was ruthless and you had no time to immediately adjust once he shoved himself completely to the end of your cunt and halted to a harsh stop. A gorgeous low huffed groan was barely heard as you felt his large knot along with his dribbling cum pour deep within you. 

A rippling orgasm like electricity convulsed in your body, and from the deepest parts of your throat, you let out an undeniably happy whine as you came hard against him. “Good fucking girl,” he praised, running his fingers down your hair while your body twitched, almost completely unable to move. 

“D-Daddy…” you whispered, unsure if it was even heard.

Feeling his cock slowly remove itself from your sloppy aching hole, your walls cried with exhaustion.

Still, it wasn’t enough, the heat igniting in your body was too frequent, and although you were tired, you whimpered at the removal. 

Yet you realized quickly that it was a grave mistake to plead so soon.

You finally understood this once he flipped you around harshly, your back slamming against the cold marble counter. 

Pulling your shirt away from your clammy body within a second, he threw it and grabbed at your legs. The grip of his was harsh, and he dragged you down effortlessly until your ass almost completely hung off the counter.

With no time to react, his thick cock plunged deep inside of you. Pulling back in moans, your eyes flickered up in need.. but It was then you gasped and realized what had been fucking into you.

He was a tall masked figure, a white long face with a black shroud of clothing surrounding him. But what was worse, was the fact that there were several drips and splatters of red liquids all over some empty clean spots of his white ghostly face. 

The masked figure tilted his head to stare at you, an intimidating demeanor that your pussy twitched in response to. He was fucking into you mercilessly without a care in the world of what was on him, and your questioning became short as a sudden moan ripped you away.

Your neck craned back to the ceiling, too focused on the cock spearing your walls and the blinding heat of arousal in your body, to care about the specifics of a strange dangerous alpha fucking you deep. He was probably some fucking murderer for all you knew. 

“A-Ah! Right there! Please, d-don’t… stop,” you gasped out, another climax already on the verge of rushing in. Anticipated frustrated tears were streaming down your cheeks, your throat tight and dry, while your helpless pussy struggled to take the abuse that you so craved.

You let out a loud obnoxious moan and suddenly a forgotten ring in the air made you both pause. For a moment you thought it was your ears alone, and when you had so clearly ignored it, the masked man halted, your climax so dearly on the edge of exploding now stopping.

“No!” Your needy self couldn’t help but plead as he left you.

His form moved away, and you raised your head to groan. It took you no more than a few seconds to realize that as he stepped away and let out a small eerie chuckle, his body was filled with blood splotches.

He placed two items beside you, a phone… and a sharp item that you could barely see. Although he had on a mask, you still were able to take notice of the certain taunting-like expression he most certainly held.

He was definitely ready for you to say something you might just regret.

With slow realization, your blurry eyes managed to scan over the item. It was indeed a bloody very much used hunting knife… And god you hoped that the blood was from hunting and not from what you thought.

A ring was heard again, and the phone beside you is vibrating angrily. Glimpsing to him, your eyes held some question for approval.

“Answer it.” He demanded. His cock was still out, and it was so visibly near your hole that you were almost angry he couldn't just pound you now. He tilted his head to the side when you bit your lip, hesitating.

Eyes flickering to the knife once more, you inhaled a sharp breath and picked up the phone, pressing answer and sputtering out a “hello…?” 

“Hello? (Y/n)? What are you doing?” Your mother on the other end had answered, a voice filled with curiosity. Opening your dry mouth to speak, words were on the tip of your tongue. 

Before you could manage to breathe out or even think of an answer, the man’s cock had immediately slammed into your needy cunt. "I-I" Your hands rapidly clasped your mouth shut before a squeal would escape. He was abrupt, moving quickly, slamming into you repeatedly with a heedless demeanor. You exhaled a very shaky noticeable breath and attempted to answer serenely.

“I-I’m just… watching a movie Mom..”

Breathe… just breathe, ignore it, a rational voice spoke. Your eyes were dilating at every thrust, and your omega part instantly shut that up.

“It’s not a horror movie is it?” As she was talking, he gripped tight on the back of your knees, and spread your legs even wider apart to go deeper. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, and you weren't even listening anymore.

“N-No.. I don’t know..” You sputtered out random words, barely able to think straight with his cock thrusting in you.

Fear mixed into pleasure. The climax was rushing and you were terrified, afraid that even with the efforts of holding it back, it would explode mid-sentence for all to hear.

Your eyes were moving back and forth from the ceiling to him, desperate to get your mind off of it.

But, how could you when he was fucking you so ruthlessly?

You bit desperately onto your tongue to avoid getting caught rasping out moans for a strange alpha.

“Well, stay away from those, you’re already in heat.. and alone. You don’t need to be scared too.. not to mention it’s night, and-“ she began to go on an endless rant and you're dissociating as he rams you.

His hand then switched positions, and with this, he moved to your clit. You weren’t necessarily sure what he was doing, and you're staring at him helplessly. A fear is drawn into your eye until he squeezed at your clit and tugged. This instinctively forced a piled scream to threaten its escape.

You bit down on your tongue brutally, fingernails digging into your skin. Your pleading with your expression, peering into black eye sockets, begging for a momentary pause.

A wave of the climax is finally erupting. You could see no features, but you knew he was smirking. His cock twitches at your terrified look, aroused at the sight. He's continuous, all while he stares straight into your crying eyes.

You shook your head as if to give him some sort of hint, as if he didn't know what was happening.

He of all knew, with the feel of your tightened pussy, a quivering body, and a sobbing plead that you were about to cum all over him. 

It was too late regardless, and tears were spilling down your cheeks in endless streams as you felt a third break roll in.

This was the worst of them all, and your eyes shot up to the ceiling, hardly able to see anything but black spots clouding your vision. Your pussy was twitching, your body was convulsing, and your erratic moans were muffled, stuffed impossibly tight in your hand.

Of course, your mother must’ve assumed, that it was just of your heat, and you were doing nothing but sitting and watching a harmless movie.

Some sense of stability rolled in for a small second, and with a blink to reality, you could feel his abuse at your clit never for a second pausing. You threw your head back with a small whimpering cry, clasped fingers threatening to give up.

Please, just a little bit longer. You were so close to breaking.

His cock is never ending even if your cunt is hyper sensitive after a quivering break. The shock of your sore clit managed to produce another wave of erratic pleasure through pain when he presses hard.

When you took too long to answer, a wary irritated “hello?” produced. Taking a deep inhale, you attempted to bite down through the quivering pain mixed with overriding pleasure.

He was surely determined to break you as much as possible until you couldn’t feel anything but your trembling pussy.

You mustered up every last bit of courage to restrain your cries. Your fingers curled so tight in the palms of your hands that you were sure they could've pierced the skin. 

“Y-Yes Mom… I-I get it… a-are we done?” You wanted your voice to be filled with aggression, despite it being rude, but it was begging as if you were giving her a hint to what was happening.

His cock plunges deep into you again, and again, and again. And he has zero care.

You didn’t think for one second of warning her about this masked being, even if you did, that knife would probably go right to your throat before you could react. It wasn't like you could focus on anything but the feeling of being destroyed anyway.

“Yes yes, just stay safe, we’re coming home in a few hours,” you nodded heavily afraid to say a single word in case a squeal leaves.

“Hello?” She repeated, and you grunt, humming your sobbing approval until she finally clicked the end call button that you had so hoped to achieve.

Your hand didn’t even let go of the phone before the masked man let out a growl. He moved in closer, his cock plunging your numbing hole.

Whimpering and sobbing, your grabby hands stretched out to him, pleading for your arms to wrap around his form. Your pussy was still craving the moment when after he was done fucking you terribly he would cum at a hilt within your walls. 

Hands grabbing at yours, he yanked your upper body up effortlessly, allowing you to wrap your shaking quivering arms around his neck. “Y-You’re cruel daddy” you voiced with a torn broken pant, weakly grasping the strange leather-like fabric of his clothes. 

“You’re fucking right I am,” he responded into your ear, dark words almost sending you to heaven.

You were rocking your hips hard into him without notice, drenching the counter with your cum.

Grabbing tightly and sinking your nose into his neck, you smelled a whiff of intoxicating alpha. With instinctive need, all you wanted to do so achingly was to lick and bite down into the gland. The thought of him beginning to fuck into other omegas set a boiling envy in you. This was just as much as your alpha, as you were his omega. 

Sensing this, the man whose hands were now almost half on your ass and onto your legs, dug his mask deep into the nape of your neck. “Jealous already hm?” He voiced with a taunt, ignoring your whines. His cock was getting faster, bigger, and already experiencing it the first time, you knew just was about to come. 

The anticipation of his cum drenching you, set you off with moans and writhing squirms. “My little omega would want nothing more than for her daddy to cum completely inside her wouldn’t she?” His tone was lazy, sexy, and yet breathily sped up as he neared his climax.

His mask rubbed at your neck, and you cried in approval, the nickname he gave himself made you squeeze tight around him. Nodding hastily, Please claim me, you beg to rasp out, a breath stolen as he continues.

You felt it coming like a coil ready to snap. It was coming and you were extraordinarily eager. Your hold strived to get tighter on him, but it was in reality getting weaker and weaker, and when he stopped inside of you, a terrifying orgasm sped through your shaking body in hot quick seconds.

Grunting out, your nails dug deep into his clothing while your legs managed to tightly wrap around his waist. A hot dribble of cum coats your walls and almost begins to protrude from your trembling cunt.

It didn't take long for his thrusts to start again. But this time it was mild and almost sweet through your lasting climax. Heavy moans and pants poured out of your lips.

Exhaustion began to seep into your form just as rapidly as the soreness surrounding your now unclenched muscles. The commanding grip on your thighs left, and his arms wrapped around your exhausted figure tightly. 

Your eyes tiredly blinked into his neck while you panted, cuddling more for warmth. The heat of yours instinctively calmed to an unexpected point. It was then you were finally beginning to notice the sweat rolling down your agonizingly hot skin. Although the knowledge of who exactly this dangerous possibly murderous alpha was is nonexistent, you were happy.

“Stay daddy.. please…” you let out a small sad whine, nestling deeper into him, licking at the fabric around his neck.

“As much as I would love to little omega, I have things to do,” he spoke as if signifying something. His hand trailed up to your neck. By now, you weren’t so sure what these “things” were, but considering your current state, it didn't worry you for a second.

Whining, a pout of dismay appeared. “Can you at least… tell me your name now?” You moved back, looking at him with blackened blown out eyes and a tired tear-stained face. 

His leather-like fingers ran up your chin, to your lips, his thumb outlining your lower one. At this point, he was simply teasing and feeling how your little breaths hitched every time his thumb slipped only an inch inside your mouth. The action repeated multiple times until an inevitable groan had escaped from your lips. That sexy dark chuckle broke out, causing your pussy to shyly tighten around his still drilled-in cock.

His bloody white mask neared your features. The words of his were slow and steady, lulling you into a deep sleep, you weren’t even sure if you heard it correctly.. or at all.

Ghostface…huh?

Nodding your head softly, you hummed into him with approval, placing your head back into its comfortable position, his chest. His hand caressed your hair gently as you began to feel the darkness sweeping in. 

[imtooscaredforthis]

Entrapment

Chapter Twenty Nine: Broken In

Mentions of: Explicit Sexual Content, Dubcon/noncon themes, cutting/knife usage, choking and violence, etc.

A/N: I’m not dead, I promise!! Just drowning in school life and all that

Tags: @elentiyaiswriting @dead-bxxxtch-walking @vandeaad @mama-miya @the-fandoms-georgie

For what felt like years, everything went dark. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. You stood there, frozen in place. Shocked, scared, broken. Once again, he had won. Once again, he had beaten you. Once again, had terrorized you, always managing to shake you to your core, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

The next thing you knew, you had taken off, sprinting as fast as you could. You made your way back to your apartment, not even bothering to see if he was following. Once you got there, you slammed the door behind you and bolted it shut, running to the windows and double checking to make sure they were locked.

And then, you finally broke.

“Fuck!” You screamed, grabbing a chair from the kitchen table and throwing it across the room. You slammed your fist into the table in front of you, beating at it. Rachel was gone. She was actually gone and it was all your fault. Just like Lucia and Jesse.

Your knuckles were bloodied, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until you could hear your broken sobs, and feel your cheeks getting all wet. You slumped down, resting your body against the kitchen counter, letting yourself cry. Your body felt so sore and heavy, you just wanted to rest. You just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again.

“Oh, poor baby girl.” A sadistic voice cooed. There he was out of nowhere, looming above you.

He reached across, running his gloved fingers over your cheek and brushing the tears away. “It’s not your fault. You tried warning her, but she didn’t listen. Stupid bitch.”

That made you snap. You smacked his hand away, reaching up and grabbing the knife on your counter. “Don’t touch me, you sadistic piece of shit. I’ll fucking kill you.”

In an instant, he tackled you, grabbing your arm and pinning you to the ground. One hand was on your wrist, the other wrapped around your throat. “Oh, so that’s what you want to do, huh? You want to hurt me? You want to kill me? Do it.”

His grip loosened around your throat and he tugged your hand, positioning it so you had the knife resting right at the center of his chest. You could easily kill him from there, press hard enough and slice through an aorta, but you didn’t. You couldn’t and he knew that. With a shaky hand, you pressed slightly, but then pulled away.

Even if you wanted him to hurt, even if you wanted him to pay, you didn’t want to be like him. You weren’t a murderer. You weren’t a monster like him. He tsked in response, yanking the knife from your hands and clenching your throat again.

“It’s sad. I really hoped you would have it in you. But you always have to fight it.” He leaned in, letting his mask rest against your cheek. “Maybe you like me too much.”

“Fuck you.” You spat angrily.

“You already did, sweetheart, and we both know you loved it.” He forced his thumb into your mouth, pressing the knife to your throat. You had no other choice but to wrap your lips around the digit, letting him push it to the back of your throat.

“Such a filthy slutty mouth. I should really do something about it, shouldn’t I? Make you my good girl all over again.” You were basically choking on the leather at this point, the metallic taste of blood on them making your eyes sting. You wanted to fight him, you wanted to bite his thumb off.

After a few long moments, he pulled away, leaving you drooling and gasping for air. Once you found your voice, you spoke again. “I’m not yours, and I never will be. I hate you. You’re disgusting.”

“Then why are you soaked through your panties right now, huh?” He pressed his thigh against your crotch, grinding it against you. You jolted from the sudden hard sensation against your clothed clit, a surprised moan slipping from your lips.

You were soaked. Why did your body react this way? Why did your body want this, when your mind was fighting so hard against it? What was wrong with you?

He grinded his thigh against your cunt harder, giving you more delicious friction. You couldn’t help but buck your hips against him. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck yourself on my thigh like the little slut you are. Does that feel good?”

You bit your lip, holding back a moan and refusing to respond. He dug his knife into your neck, drawing blood. You hissed in pain. “Answer me, whore.”

“Yes.” You mewled, grinding against him, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten.

You shut your eyes, trying to pretend that you weren’t here, doing this with him. That it was anybody else. It helped slightly, except for the chilling feeling of the knife pressing against your skin as a reminder. He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Keep them open.” He hissed, reaching down and pushing your panties aside, rubbing your clit roughly. You arched your back, your eyes flying open, coming face to face with his mask. His other hand pinched your cheeks, holding you in place. “Good girl.”

The next thing you knew, he had you pushed over the edge, letting you grind against his thigh as you worked yourself through your high, moaning and mewling.

He wrapped his arms around you, carrying you back to the bedroom. Your legs felt like jelly when he placed you down on the bed, and you heard the familiar clinking of his belt. He was on top of you this time, removing parts of his robe. You should be looking at him and everything he revealed, memorizing all of it and putting the pieces together. But before you could even think he was inside you and thrusting at an intoxicating pace.

“Fuck.” You choked out as you felt him wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze. Your eyes fluttered as he hit that spot every time.

“Isn’t it so much better when you don’t fight it? When you give in? Doesn’t it feel so good?” He hisses into your ear.

You found yourself nodding, unable to speak or think, just feel. Just like he wanted. He was winning. He had won time and time again, and you were tired of fighting. Tonight, you let yourself give in. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure and just feel.

He made you cum on his cock multiple times, switching positions and moving you like a doll, making you feel like a toy for him to use. You moaned and held onto him, cumming so hard that you were getting dizzy and you couldn’t even recognize the sounds you were making anymore.

It was probably the fourth time, (or maybe the fifth, you were losing count) when he had you on your knees while he thrusted in from behind. Your legs were shaking, threatening to give out, but he kept you up with one arm around your waist. His other groped your breast, enjoying how the flesh bounced in his hand.

“Ghostface, Ghostface.” You moaned, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. He leaned over and kissed you, and you barely comprehend that his mask was off and you could feel his stubble scraping against your jaw.

“Danny, baby. Call me Danny.” He crooned into your ear, biting the skin softly.

“Danny.” You let slip, hearing him groan in pleasure, his cock pulsating a little from your words. He kissed you again. “Good fucking girl. My good girl. Keep gripping my cock, just like that.”

He wrapped an arm around your neck, and you could feel yourself getting all light headed as he pounded inside. He was fucking you even harder, enjoying how you tightened from the lack of oxygen. He hit that spot over and over, making you see stars and pushing you over the edge. He came with you, biting into your shoulder so hard that he drew blood.

You felt him lay you down and bed, the familiar flash of a camera stinging your eyes and breaking you out of your daze ever so slightly. You didn’t care. You couldn’t. You were too exhausted, and you let yourself drift off.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Okay, what if we combine the "Danny is Bruces bio child he didn't know about" with "Danny is dating Tims clone that Tim didn't know about" and "Danny now lives in the IR after shenanigans happen that prevent him from living in his home dimension"

So, Bruce nearly has a heart attack from finding out he has another bio son out there, Tim freaks out about having a clone and being a father, they both have simultaneous heart attacks after they learn they were dating eachother and have to sit down.

Half the family is practically having aneurysms over these kids and the other half is making fun of the fist half. Then they start learning about Dannys crappy childhood and whatever fresh hell the clone went through and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.

Danny at some point yells "You're not my dad!" to Bruce and the bats comfort him in thier own ways

Featuring: Danny renouncing his humanity and staying in his ghost form 24/7 which is suuuuper unhealthy, clone Tim being clingy, gratuitous handholding, Danny and Tim Jr being cute as f, arson, those last two not being mutually exclusive, Danny and Tim Jr exploring ghost cities, accidentally triggering Jason's ptsd, clown murder, cornhobbling, the whole bat family trying to adopt a pair of children who don't want to be adopted and are living out a romance novel in the most dramatic explody way possible, and so much more :D

[slashy-hanako]

Dead by Daylight Killers Being Jealous

Reader insert, no use of Y/N, gender neutral.

This is my first time writing on this account, I hope you like it. 

Characters included: Anna (Huntress), Caleb Quinn (Deathslinger), Danny Johnson (Ghostface).

☠Warnings: Blood and gore, strong language, sexual themes.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

♥ Anna - The Huntress ♥ 

Such an athletic and skillful woman would prove to be a great challenge for anyone looking to reach your heart. Behind the mask, there is a face marked by war and famine but still beautiful with its modest charm. Anna is a territorial lover, you are hers and anyone who crosses the line she sets will meet her hatchets. She is violent with her impulses, you would have to stop her from acting upon simple interactions you might have with friends, such as friendly hugs or hand-shakes. Anna does not try to hide her feelings, it will take a good time to educate her about the boundaries of what is appropriate, and even if she loosens her grip on you a little she will still overreact if she sees someone actively flirting with you.

It was a cold evening, you found yourself shaking even near the campfire, your body trembled and your skin arched in response to the chilling wind biting through your defenses, even with a coat the fog seemed to swallow all the heat from the surroundings. You could not bear it any longer and indulged in the request of a survivor to keep you warm, lying by their side so they could wrap their arms around your frame. You knew they liked you, and it felt terribly wrong to allow them to be this close just because you needed it, still you ignored the thoughts and closed your eyes. You felt warm and were finally able to sleep. 

As the hours passed, your slumber was interrupted by the feeling of strong hands holding your waist, it was not like the other survivor who had kept you warm through the night, it was different. You felt the hot breath of the broad figure behind you, so close to your neck, the voice that hummed a lullaby was the familiar one of the Huntress. You were shocked, wondering how she got there, but you remained silent as she embraced you tightly and placed a leg over you, you were being squeezed and it was all the warmth you ever needed.

When she left, after you had proper rest, the camp was empty; she had scared all the other survivors, luckily violence was not allowed outside of trials, but she would sharpen her hatchets to focus on a certain someone who dared to take advantage of your vulnerability.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

♥ Caleb Quinn - The Deathslinger ♥

Caleb was a rough man, unpolished and disheveled all around, he never felt confident about his appearance, or his age, or his personality; he didn’t have much during his life, and his passions had been stolen from him, but not anymore. He is not one to express it loudly, it is difficult to read his deadpan expression, but when his left eye twitches and he clenches his teeth it is because something is bothering him. 

He might pin you against a wall and be direct with his questions about what is happening, Caleb is blunt like a mace and too anxious to allow the possibility of someone taking you from him, and when he gets a name things will be complicated.

It was not unusual for relationships to blossom amidst survivors, the time in the entity’s realm would go so slowly sometimes that having another human to hold was what kept one from snapping. You had seen a certain someone stealing glances at you, during the trials they would constantly follow you around and on occasion even pulled you with them inside a locker, claiming that it was to keep you safe. You had noticed those advances, but your heart belonged to someone else, and this someone had a dead aim. 

It was a trial like any other, if not for the fact that the Slinger was not paying too much attention to you and the other two survivors, instead he would chase only one person, the same one who kept flirting with you every time you were together. You knew exactly what was happening, but you would not dare saying it in front of Caleb, if you accused him of being jealous he would be mad. Instead, you focused on doing the gens while he kept your friend on the ground, watching them crawl around like a slug.

The bounty-hunter would follow the miserable soul, his boots oftenly making contact with their body as he kicked them around and smirked, delighted with the cruelty and suffering. “If I see your hands on them again, I will make sure you can no longer use them.” He would mumble, piercing the back of the survivor with the spear of his marvelous weapon; Death to Shorebay, what a masterful piece of art that gun was, perfect for torture as the Deathslinger kept the harpoon stuck in the survivor’s body to drag them around until they bled out. 

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

♥ Danny Johnson - The Ghostface ♥

As an inquisitive spectator, Danny has watched survivors from far away, he had his moments of voyeurism and shameless photography while invading their privacy, be it inside or outside trials, after all there are no rules against making pin ups with pictures. But you were especially intriguing to him, you knew someone had been following you, leaving mysterious notes for you to read, mostly with strange questions and nonsensical observations; ‘What is your favorite horror movie?’ had been the start, followed by a note written in blood ‘You like a man with a knife?’, it was disturbing and you expected it to be a prank from one of the survivors, maybe someone was just having a good time laughing at how distressed you became. 

But time worked its wonders and soon you dismissed these events as nothing but a hoax from your friends. You could sleep in peace, and it was during one of these moments of careless slumber that you were awakened by the feeling of gloved hands caressing your skin, groping, pinching, someone wanted to call your attention. When you opened your eyes, there was the sight of the Ghostface white mask, his hand covered your mouth so you would not scream, and he showed you his knife, running the tip of it delicately over your chest. Was he crazy? Killers were not allowed to do that outside of trials.

“Now keep your fucking mouth shut, darling.” He warned, caring little about the entity’s rules “I will not hurt you, at least not now.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, he was too close. “I saw you are getting close to that… What is their name…? Uh… I forgot.” He shook his head “I thought we had something, you know. I sent you so many letters and now you betray me, holding hands with that lame bag of flesh.” It made sense now, he was the one stalking you. 

Danny was delusional for sure, he had lived too much inside his own head, with his sick fantasies and distaste for society in general. A man like him lived only to spread violence, chaos, he was an avatar of decay.

“I will give you one last chance, next time we meet, you bring them to me, and I will pretend this never happened.” Then he cleared his throat “If you don’t…” He pressed his left hand on your neck, the mist enveloped him, threatening to take him for punishment for crossing the lines, then his grip loosened “You are mine. Remember that.” He muttered, standing up and tossing a picture at you, before disappearing in the shadows.

The picture was a nice one of you in an intimate moment with someone else, but their head was cut from the picture. 

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers attempting to seduce an asexual reader. (Written for my asexual viewers).

Notes: This is meant to be purely humorous and fun. I wrote it for my asexual viewers in the hopes that I can put a smile on their faces. All the love in the world to you, my dears! 💜🤍🖤

-

Albert Wesker

After killing two survivors in the trial, Wesker took his time unbuttoning his shirt. Then he slid off his glasses and ruffled his hair- something he never did unless it was for someone very special.

Ever since he had arrived here, countless people had tried getting into his pants. He was used to it, honestly. And while the attention felt good, he wasn't interested in anyone else. No.

He was interested in 'you'.

Anticipating your arrival at a generator, Wesker casually leaned against the hill and posed, showing off his smooth, veiny muscles and glistening abs. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off the divine luxury of his biceps.

Oh yes, (y/n), look at him. Take it all in. Stare at the wondrous array of his beauty, his irresistible essence. There was no way you could resist him, no one could. Any second and you would either come running, or he would catch you staring at him like a red faced fish.

Grinning big in confidence, Wesker was midway through running his hand through his hair when he turned to see what your reaction was. He expected you to be excited, flustered and breathless, but instead...

You were rummaging through a chest, your side to him and your attention completely focused on the task at hand.

Ok, umm... What!?

Wesker pushed himself away from the hill. You were searching a chest? What? Why? What was so bloody important about 'that'? You should be paying attention to him.

Unable to believe it, Wesker watched as you proudly lifted up a flashlight that you clicked multiple times before standing up and tossing your old toolbox at the poor chest. Then you turned around and skipped away without a care in the world.

In the abyss, Wesker was left frustrated, humiliated and determined. Don't think that this was over with, (y/n), because it's not. Wesker isn't a man who likes to give up.

He'd have your attention eventually.

Herman Carter

He unlatches his mouth and head restraints and sheds his torn lab coat. His eyes glow a light pink as he unfastens his belt, untucks his shirt and purposely rips certain areas of his clothes thus leaving more lush, gorgeous skin to shine through.

They say that you were hard to get, But Herman liked to believe otherwise. Being one of the most popular people in the realm, his fame made him confident and certain of himself. If he wanted someone's attention, then he would get it.

Casually swinging his weapon around while guarding his perimeter, Herman kept an eye out for you. Any second and you should be returning to finish the generator.

When he finally saw you approach, he stretched, one arm moving behind his head to show off the gorgeous curve of his back and his strong muscles. His bare arms crackled with teasing electricity as he stroked his body, his fingers tugging at holes in his clothes and exposing the exciting view from within.

That's it, (y/n), look at him. Don't be shy. Bask in his charm and handsome, good looks. Stare at the way his muscles moved. Watch his strong thighs flex and let your imagination run wild. Yes.

Chancing a look in your direction, Herman expected to see you flustered, intimidated or frozen in awe, but instead...

You were talking to a crow.

Herman nearly dropped his weapon.

Are you joking him right now?

You were talking to a crow. Literally. You were kneeling down with a stick in your hand in which you tried to use to serenade the crow. Your back was to him and you were completely submerged in your essential conversation.

What on earth? Herman sighed in disbelief and frustration. Why were you talking to a crow? Were you mad? Look at him! He was practically famous- not to mention extraordinarily good looking. You shouldn't be paying attention to no crow.

Seeing as how he wasn't going to get your attention today, Herman sighed and walked away. You were certainly unique, but that only made him want you more.

Soon, (y/n). Very, very soon.

Frank Morrison

He was almost shaking with excitement as he took off his jacket and shirt. Today was the day. Today was the day that he finally got a rise out of you, and he would be the first. Everyone says you're unresponsive to this kind of act, but he begged to differ.

You just haven't got to see him in action yet is all.

Going so far as to unzip his pants, Frank then took his mask off and leaned against the rumbling generator. His plan was in motion. All he needed was to wait for you and everything would fall into place exactly how he wanted it to.

When he saw you come into view, Frank leaned back against the generator, stretching his arms and legs and glancing in your direction.

Go on, (y/n), look at him. Take it all in. Witness his exposed body and come undone. If you're good, he might even help you with all those flustered emotions. All you had to do was ask nicely.

Glancing in your direction, Frank catches you looking at him and he grins maliciously. Yes. That's it. He looks at you further, his body turning towards you as he gets ready to gesture you forward. Be good now, (y/n).

After a few seconds of staring at him though, something else caught your attention, and suddenly you were jogging off to a set of pillars nearby.

"Hey," Frank immediately protested as he pushed himself away from the generator. Where were you going?

Following you a bit, Frank's hands flew up in complete and utter disbelief.

A totem? You were cleansing a dull totem? Are you serious right now? What the heck!

Frank was utterly baffled. All of his hard work, and you barely even noticed him. Did you even have any kind of reaction at all? And what the hell was so great about a totem???

For a minute, Frank watched as you cleansed the totem and began searching the area for more, not a second glance given to him or the generator. Growling in frustration, Frank kicked the ground and wandered back to his stripped clothes.

They really weren't joking when they said you were unresponsive. Well, Frank wasn't joking either. He would get your attention one day, and he can guarantee that.

Evan MacMillan

He had worn his apron and jeans specifically for you. After he killed off at least two survivors, he shedded his apron thus leaving his upper body bare. Taking off his mask came next, and then he sat on a crate, patiently waiting for you to come around.

Most people love seeing him show off his strength, which is what he planned to do with you. If he could lure you in enough, then he would intimidate you, steal the words right out of your stuttering mouth and tell you what he knew you wanted deep, deep down.

Feeling himself burn with excitement, Evan nearly stood up too fast when he saw you come into view. Turning around, he kicked the generator, putting his muscles and strength on display. Then he grabbed a trap and kneeled down to set it, the air tickling his exposed crack.

Evan knew that he had a good body, and he wanted you to look at it. Look at it and imagine all the things it could do to you. Think about his strong thighs and thick waist. Think about his rough, calloused hands and fingers. Take it all in and imagine the possibilities.

Planning on playing the victim to your staring, Evan turned his head back, fully prepared to see you gawking at him. But instead...

You were looting David's belongings in which he had left after dying on a hook.

What in God's name?

Evan stood up, confused and somewhat irritated. Had you not noticed him? He growled, watching as you tossed out unimportant tools from a toolbox, completely focused on your own tasks.

You gotta be kidding him. This is what you were interested in instead of him? A toolbox? Really?

Crossing his arms, Evan sighed. He wasn't mad. He knew they had said that you were hard to get. Sure, he hadn't imagined you being quite this clueless, but still. It was strange.

Evan watched as you got your tools collected and skittered off in a different direction, and he shook his head in amusement. One of these days he was going to get a reaction from you. Just you wait.

Ji-woon Hak

They say you can't be seduced? Well, Ji-woon would like to prove otherwise. After all, who can resist the practical God of good looks? No one!

Wearing none other than his fancy swim shorts, Ji-woon was pumped with confidence and optimism. Getting your attention was going to be a piece of cake.

Waiting on top of a hill, Ji-woon waits until you come into view and then shouts to get your attention. You stop in your tracks and look at him. He smirks and takes out his throwing knives.

Facing a nearby fence, Ji-woon throws and throws his knives until he creates a heart shape in the old wood. Huffing in pride, he skillfully twirls a knife around while waiting your reaction.

You were staring at the fence, seeming to be in awe.

Ji-woon grins and strokes his hair, mumbling arrogant phrases in Korean as he begins to walk down the hill. On his way, he pushes his shorts down a bit, exposing the fine ridges of his pelvic bones. Then he trails his fingers down his sides and over his abs.

By the time he looks up to give you a wink, he sees you staring at him with a somewhat emotionless face. He smiled, ready to throw out the grand finale.

But suddenly...

Something passed by your face. It was a butterfly. A butterfly that had you gasping in delight and grinning big. Not but a few seconds after it flew by, you began chasing it.

"Eh?" Ji-woon was dumbfounded.

You. Were. Chasing. A. Butterfly?!

How could you be chasing a butterfly instead of paying attention to him? Come on. He just put on a big show for you. You should be falling to pieces in admiration and lust.

And yet you were chasing a freakin butterfly!!!

Cursing, Ji-woon covered his face and shook his head. You really were a difficult person to please. But, no matter. The more challenging the person, the more fun the possibilities.

Chuckling fondly, Ji-woon fought against chasing the butterfly with you. Instead he watched, adoring your childish nature.

Don't worry, (y/n), he wasn't giving up. One day he would steal your heart. One day...

[happywesker]

What is wrong with this picture?

[weskie]

Just Pretend [Love is Madness] (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

18+ | soft and fuck nasty wombo combo wesker, he whimpers, biting, what if wesker was in love AND denial, p/rn without plot | Fic Directory

You bury your face in the sheets, fists scrambling for purchase in the soft silk.  The moan that leaves you is anything but dignified, though you’d passed that threshold long ago.  He’s had a long day, and you were all too happy to help him get it out of his system.

A hand twists in your hair while another takes a biting grip at your waist to steady you with each punishing thrust.  

So thick, so full… 

“Al…” You mewl, the nickname a sacred utterance only for special moments, whether carnal or tender.  You hear the way he shudders.  You feel the flex in his grip.  Wesker loves it and you know full well he does.  By the stutter of his hips turning to a wet grind, you know it drives him crazy to be called such a sweet, silly name.  To feel every one of your proclamations of love seep into something so… mundane.

You feel him collapse, chest pressing flat and hot against your back as he braces himself, breaths panting in your ear.  He’s not done– nowhere near it.  This is just how he gets away with the softer things.  He thinks you don’t know how much he fucking loves the full body contact.  That he shivers when the whole of you is pressed to him, when he feels completely joined with you.  

He peppers kisses from behind your ear down to the junction of your neck, each one wet and warm and full of unspoken adoration.  Each shallow grind into your heat makes him try and fail to bite back weak little moans until he becomes so fed up, so frustrated that he can’t keep his perfect composure, that he simply has to sink his teeth into your flesh.  At least he could lie and say it was just the taste of you that made him make such sweet little sounds.

“Oh god!” 

You know that’ll drive him wild too.  For in his mind, he is the god to whom you cry out.  

And how right he is…

His hands snake up your waist to grab at your chest, pulling you against him even firmer.  Your hand flies back to thread in his hair, tugging softly at his ruffled locks.  The force of his bite leaves you and is replaced with his tongue laving hot across his mark.  He gives two sharp rocks of his hips before rising off of you, pulling you into a kneeling position– back tight to his chest the way he likes it.  With an arm around your waist once more, he lets loose.  The bed creaks and moans beneath the force of his motions, and you’re fully convinced it’s going to give out one day.  Its song of protest is drowned by your symphony of passion, of skin on skin and desperate noises coming from you both. 

He bites down on you again to hide his sounds, but it’s to no avail.  Nothing can quite disguise the sound of Wesker whining and whimpering as he gives three sharp thrusts and a stuttering fourth before you feel him spilling within you– and oh how he sings for you.  That edge to his voice quakes with every tight moan he can’t suppress and your name finds its way between each heavy breath.  His arms pull tighter than ever around you as if letting go would make him fade into nothing.

But he doesn’t stop.  He never stops– never stops grinding or managing the occasional shallow rut.  The slide of his cock gets wetter with every bit of come that seeps out around it.  You’re on cloud nine, dangerously close to falling over the edge yourself when the hand at your waist finally drops to finish you off.

“Let–” he gasps softly, “let go, now.” 

The sound of him still stumbling over his breaths coupled with the perfect touch does you in immediately. It makes you arch and writhe against his unyielding grip as each wave of raw pleasure beats down on the shores of your mind and body.  Wesker holds you through it, eyes focused on the rise and fall of your chest, the way you quiver and pulse around his cock clouds his mind with the same intense need that got you to this very moment.

He’s not done.  Not even close.  The feeling of your walls milking him drives him further into a madness he knows, deep down, he’s never going to escape.

And why would he ever want to?

[cherry-writes-yanderes]

Bloodstained

cw: MINORS DNI, dead dove do not eat, gender neutral reader, yandere, noncon/dubcon thigh riding, blood kink, mask kink, light knifeplay, fuck or die lite™️, soft dirty talk, blood, mentions of murder, the reader is brutally stabbed, backstabbing (lol you’ll get it), physical assault, death threats, threat of wound fucking, horny Ghostie

Remember to like & reblog if you enjoy my work~ <3

word count: 1,939

The mist seemed a lot thicker than you remembered.

A constant reminder that you were indeed in the dark, as well as in danger. Especially after some asshole decided to make an offering to thicken it. You’d kill that bastard yourself if you could; but you can’t. You are a survivor, a mouse in the classic game. You couldn’t spill blood other than your own even if you wanted to.

Speaking of a cat and mouse game, you definitely felt like a mouse now. Especially when the cat was right across the dingy hallway, grasping another of your vermin brethren by the throat: Ace.

The man coughed as The Ghost Face held him high against the wall, holding his knife up against the man’s throat. The blade was as long as your forearm, glinting in the crude, broken down lighting of the old manufacturing building you were all thrust into for a trial.

A loud boom sounded through the building; a sacrifice had been completed. The hooks were cruel, and you unfortunately couldn’t get there in time to save your other friend.

You slowly peeked through the crack of the red wardrobe you were currently hiding in, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you heard Ace cough again, you supposed that it meant that Ghostface’s grip was now tighter on the poor man’s throat.

“Where. Are. They?” You heard the masked man’s muffled voice. His breathing was labored; chasing survivors around to murder them was obviously a tiring game. But you knew that the bastard enjoyed it. The last time you were against him he took a crude and bloody photo of you as a “keepsake”, according to him.

“W-Who?!” Ace croaked loudly, his legs kicking out in a weak attempt to try and fight off the black-clad killer.

“(Y/N), you stupid fuck!!” The Ghostface roars as he slams Ace against the wall, making the man nearly crack his skull on the dirty cement. Ace groans, choking and sputtering as he tries to get his bearings again after that attack that clearly made him dizzy. He knew that Ghostface was obsessed with you, stopping at nothing to get near you in every single trial you two were in together. The killer’s never been this angry though, and he was scared that he would get killed early from this crazy fucker. He knew that there was only one way to get out of this, and in the end, it was every man for himself.

You swallow hard has Ace slowly raises a bloody finger, pointing directly at the closet you’ve nestled yourself into. 

“No...” 

Your heart drops into your shoes, the killer slowly turning to face the closet as well. You hear him chuckle as he drops the squirming and injured man, letting him scramble up off of the floor and watch with wide eyes.

His boots sound heavy as they get closer to you, your eyes wide and your heart leaping out of your chest. You knew he was toying with you, there was no way that he ever wanted to go slow at anything. You were supposed to be scared.

The double doors swung open before you could even blink, and without thinking you tried to scamper away as if you even had a chance against him. You screamed as the killer grabbed at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and throwing you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

“Aw now, don’t run off now sweetpea, we’re just gettin’ started!!” Danny laughs as he sits on top of you to stop you from wiggling.

“NO!!!!” You scream out as you see Ace run off, tears streaming down your cheeks at the prospect of being alone with the lunatic that meant you harm. You wiggle harder, managing to break free from under Ghostface for but a fleeting moment before you feel something roughly pierce your shoulder blade... something sharp.

You scream as Ghostface’s knife pierces you, white-hot pain coursing through your body as you feel ribs crack and blood gush from the wound. You can hear him cooing loudly at you over your screaming, but you couldn’t fully understand what was being said. If you were being honest with yourself, you really didn’t care.

“Aww now, hush!!~ It’s gonna be fine! You’re gonna die anyways!” Danny laughs like it’s the funniest joke ever. He swiftly pulls the knife from your back, listening closely to your whimpering and crying.

He flips you over and you can hear him breathing heavily as he grabs your arms and blood gushes from your shoulder blade. “Y’know what, you sweet little thing? I wanna play just a little…” He chuckles, muffled by the mask as well as the blood rushing through your ears. “Ju-Just a little, I promise! That blood is... it’s fuckin’ hot...” He swallows, his mask getting closer to your face the more he speaks.

“Unluckily for you, though-” He grunts as he lays you flat and hovers over you, suddenly grabbing your neck and squeezing.  “You won’t be seeing my handsome face... This time around anyway~” He jokes as you cough and kick hard; a feeble attempt to escape again. You can feel your own sticky blood pooling on the floor from your open wound, and it made your heart beat even faster and your adrenaline flow, your body practically moving on its own.

As you struggle, you hear him softly grunt, as if he didn’t wanna mention what was wrong in that moment. You finally realize, and it’s horrid. In his efforts to cage you in and trap you under him, he had put his knee in between your legs, causing your sudden movements to rub against him. Was he... turned on by this?! What a fucking pervert... You stop in your attempts to move after that realization, opting to try moving your legs up to kick him in any way. That only made it worse, his breathing getting labored as he just watched you eerily with that goddamned mask.

“Hey!!!” He shouted suddenly, slamming your body onto the cold floor and bringing you back up again, holding you close to him. “Who fuckin’ said you could stop?” He asked deeply, his voice deep and smooth but sinister at the same time. The rubber of the mask touched your nose as he stared you down, your body shaking under such a dangerous gaze. He sighs, grabbing your hips as he sits you right on his thigh. You felt even more like a mouse, but now you were in the cat’s jaws.

“Move your hips, baby...” You hear him order, his breath heavy with anticipation. You don’t comply for a moment, staring him down in defiance. “Don’t make me fuck that bloody hole in your back instead, you little bitch.” Danny growls as he reaches around you to poke a finger in your gushing wound to make you squeal, which you do.

This time, you comply, knowing that him getting angrier would lead to a worse fate than this. You slowly move your hips over his toned thigh, your warmth rubbing against the fabric of his bloodstained pants as well as your clothing. Your cheeks were hot, and you had to admit that the friction felt good. But with someone who planned to kill you? Maybe he wouldn’t if you gave him what he wanted...

“That’s it, sweetness... Mm, you’re so warm...” He huffs desperately, his hands gripping your hips hard as he helps you along, pushing you down as he moves his leg for a better angle. “Yeah, that’s it... Good ‘lil baby...” He praises again and again as you ride him, a gentle whimper from the building pleasure escaping your throat without permission. You can feel your body reacting harshly to everything that has happened, truly obvious from the stain that has appeared on The Ghost’s pants. It all happened so fast, your brain was fuzzy. His hips started to hump against you, begging for some kind of attention in the place he needed you most.

You could hear generators being completed and the lights getting brighter. The other survivors were probably wondering where you were, and your heart stung from the thought that they might just leave without you.

Danny watched as you tried to quickly get yourself off, smiling under the mask at how funny this situation was to him. He never thought you would be this obedient... But he liked it. The killer knew that he should have done this sooner if you were going to be this good of a fucktoy!~ Leather gloves grabbed at your cheeks, squishing them and making your moans muffle just a bit as he forced you to grind on him faster. His index finger forces itself into your mouth, rubbing your tongue with vigor as he continues to move you. A twinge of blood from your wound coats your taste buds, and your warmth throbs from how good it tasted. “L-Look, sweetcheeks- mmh- I’m okay with not cumming this time... Just this once, y’hear?? But- shit, you gotta move just a teensy bit faster if you wanna get off by the time this is over!” Ghostface cackles hoarsely, gripping your hips harder still. You moan in response, panic flooding your being with a sense of primal urgency to not only cum, but to get out alive.

You suddenly hear the door alarm; the others had finished with the gens, but still no one was coming for you. You can hear them opening the giant door to escape. Your sense of panic grows, making your hips twitch with both desire and fear. “D’aww.. they’re leavin’ without you, honeybun... so sad!~” Danny croons playfully, groaning softly still as you continue to move on top of him. Your brain freezes over, the fear skyrocketing and making everything more... pleasurable? You weren’t sure how that could happen, but you let out a louder moan as you look down to see the Ghostface’s built thigh under you, rubbing on your precious parts with lust. You moan again, unable to contain the fact that your brain is beginning to melt into nothing with pleasure, your hips finally moving on their own.

Your moans get louder and louder, the indication that you were getting close spurring Ghostface on to grip you tighter, his leg moving in sync with your body to help you along. “That’s it! Cum for me, darling~” The killer calls. Your breaths get heavy, cheeks warm as the feeling building in your tummy finally snaps at his command. Your back arches as you cry out, your broken screams accompanied by the laughter of a psychopath.

“What a good baby!!~ You made me so proud!~” He coos, nuzzling his mask on your cheek as you come down from your high, your legs shaking and your hips twitching. He gushes over you, showing you the stain you left on his pants as well as yours, giving your cheeks a pinch with his leather gloves. You can barely feel anything as Ghostface picks you up, and you wonder if he’s just going to hang you on a hook and fuck you there until the Entity came to claim you. If you were being honest with yourself, you would rather that have happened.

Instead, he drops you right at the gate: wide open and welcoming you through to the other side. As a goodbye until your next trial, Ghostface jabs his finger into your wound, cruelly twisting as you writhe and scream on the ground. He cackles wildly, kicking you right in the gut to get you through the door.

“’Til next time~”

[circeyoru]

Dead By Demon

[Killer!Alastor x Survivor!Reader - Dead By Daylight AU]

By some interesting world reason or whatever phenomenon that is still unexplainable to your feeble little mind, you got sent to a game you’ve been forced to play by your friends called Dead By Daylight

It’s a horror game that’s designed to be a match based game. Each game there are 5 players, 4 as survivors and 1 as the killer. In each game, the players are all sent to a randomized map. Each side with a different goal

The goal of the survivors is to survive, how? By fixing 5 machines called generators, then 2 exit doors on the map will be allowed to be opened and the survivors can escape through that. The killer’s goal is to kill all the survivors, either offering them to the entity by putting them on another machine called a hook or executing them

Of course, the game is not as simple as that, since there are other variables that can give the players advantages and disadvantages. Not to mention the play style of each gamer is different, on top of the ever changing maps and new characters for survivors and killers. As a beginner moving to somewhat more causal player, you were proud to say you are familiar with the mechanics of the game and can survivor flawlessly

THAT IS IF THE KILLERS AND SURVIVORS WERE THE SAME AS THE GAME YOU KNEW

Somehow, the killers and survivors were all major characters from a show you watched called Hazbin Hotel. You didn’t understand it, when you were brought in, they were all familiarity with the game’s mechanisms. Everything that happened in the show was distorted as their background information

You were a survivor. The others were Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Adam, Lute, Sera, Emily, and Saint Peter. You’re not surprised the hotel staff was all put in the survivor side, but you were surprised that the angels were all on your side as well. By guess, you can bet that the King of Hell and Overlords were all the killers

You learned that the hotel staff members were the first to arrive on the scene, then they were quickly sent to the maps of their former allies, Alastor and Lucifer

Alastor was formerly a radio host and serial killer during his days as a human, his maps were based on his hometown but the variety spread to a few, including his beloved home with his mother and the murder scene of his father, his radio broadcasting studio and work station where he writes his scripts and ideas, his swamp where it was his body dumping grounds, and his forest where it was his hunting grounds and death

Lucifer as the King of Hell also has a few maps. One was a smaller scale of Pentagram City, another was his garden, then his ducky workshop and kitchen, and last was his musical room which was still a giant map

There didn’t seen to be an issue with the first map as the 4 sent survivors were keen on escaping and Alastor was keen on killing them by placing them on hooks or executing them. For Lucifer though, he was a softy for whenever Charlie was present, always letting her survive while showing no mercy to the others

The first match was the scariest since they thought their lives were on the line, but when it was clear that they were only dead during the match and revived when the match ends, everything was more chill

But that depended on the killers and survivors. If there were bad blood between, things could get petty like taunting and letting other teammates die. If the killer wanted, they can watch the survivor suffer a bit before killing them. It was a twisted repeat day after day. Luckily, it was only 3 matches a day and the same survivor won’t be allowed to join more than 2 matches a day

Matches are placed in the morning, afternoon, and night. All players are random unless one volunteers, to which the opposite side would be notified and no other volunteers are allowed to allow for fairness. Matches can be quick or slow, depending on the players. Rewards for a win in a match are what the player wants. Like better living quarters, better food, entertainment items, etc

Outside of the matches, survivors and killers live in separate areas divided by a wall of flowing water. If a survivor or killer is injured, their condition will be fully revived during the match but returned to the way they are if they lost the match

All these information was all so overwhelming for you since it was on top of trying to adapt your new surrounding, but they were all used to it since it was slowly introduced to them. The second wave of survivors were the angels from Heaven and then the rest of the Overlords

It was only a matter of time before you also got used to all the stuff that you were thrown into

There was one change after your arrive. Whenever you were in a match, any other participants had more control over their own actions and mindset. The former desire to survivor or killer was weaken to none the longer and more experienced and familiar you got. You even found yourself getting familiar with the killers or former Overlords

Albeit you were trying to survive by buying time through chatting. The highest of success was high usually. Sometimes it doesn’t work because you don’t know much about them cause there was a lack of information revealed in the show

However, even though Alastor’s a favourite of yours. You hate being in the same match as him. Watching him from the safety of your home when he was just fictional was fine, but having him chasing you with a knife or a shotgun and a crazed smile? No! HELL NO!!!

Whenever it was revealed that Alastor was the killer in your match, you would immediately run to find your other teammates no matter who they are. You just can’t be left alone with him, even when you serve as a good bait to buy time and let your teammates fix the generators so they can open the exit for you to run towards

“There’s a limit to my mental stamina!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs while running away from the deer demon behind you. “I’m so beating you guys up when this match is over!”

Meanwhile, all your teammates are mentally thanking your sacrifice. “Keep up the good work, almost there.”

Before your arrival, Alastor could never enjoy his hunt. It was like he was wired to hunt and kill, there was no thrill, no entertainment as he would prefer. It was so dull and boring

Find a survivor, scare them, chase them, stab them till they can’t run, put them on a hook and watch them die or go hunt the other survivors, repeat repeat repeat. That was how predictable the matches became after the first few times. It got to the point that he doesn’t even try anymore when he was sent into a match, especially when he was so well off in his living conditions

He didn’t need the wins anymore, it was all meaningless

Then he heard from Zestial who got the honors of participating as the killer for your first match. He told the others after the last meal of the day when everyone was gathered around a bonfire to see if someone wants to volunteer for the next day

According to Zestial, when he entered the random map that was Carmilla’s weapons workshop, there was a weaken desire to hunt and kill the survivors, even more so when it was the unfamiliar figure he met. He had found a survivor fixing a generator, he tried creeping up to the poor soul, but your head was looked around as if you felt him

The moment he got one step closer, you bolted up and ran away from the area. His hunting and killing urge came back and he gave chase, when his claws came into contact with your figure and you screamed, he felt an unfamiliar ache. He watched your speed increase and ran out of sight as it was normal whenever a survivor was slashed by a killer, then he looked down to his bloody claws

That inferno desire weakened again, like he was returning back to his true self when he was outside of the match

Killer’s volunteer table was quickly filled up as everyone wanted a chance to test Zestial’s words. Though, only some were able to actually be in the same match as you, and fewer got the chance to see you. Turns out, you were a sensitive and perceptive survivor. If you were a killer, they knew you’d be something like an assassin or a sniper

When Alastor finally got a chance to experience a match with you, he was relieved that he could pick a target like the good old days and not whichever survivor that was around. Or even the ‘obsession’ that was randomly picked in the survivor team per match. He felt sweet control to do as he pleased

So he set out to find you. His mind raced. Will he hunt and give chase like his desires drive him to in his previous matches? Will he immediately try to slash you and bring you down so he can hook you? Will he have that weakened desire like Zestial did? What was your effect? Why are you special?

Finding you was easy as lucky wasn’t on your side. You were diligently trying to fix the generator but ended up busting it every so often which alerted him of your location, then that teammate of yours, Adam, as he recognized the golden wing design on his back, leave you and didn’t even warn you of the incoming killer

He got a fast ambush, a deep slash on your arm that definitely need mending else risk being rendered immobile. You quickly ran away like other survivors would, no difference. Yet, he was just standing there watching your form fade from his sight, leaving a trail of blood splatters in your wake

His legs moved as he decided he can’t let you out of his sight. No way, not after he felt that control and real killer instinct. You’re like his prey back in the days, he wants to get to know you then have the best chase of a lifetime. Cut you up and watch the lovely red paint you in beauty and posh

The best part was, he didn’t have to worry that it would be a one time thing. Both of you will never dead as long as this stupid game is on

“Darling, why are you running from me? Let’s play a game. Let’s enjoy our matches.”

Note: Okay.. I've been away for some time.... Haha.... I'm fine, just out of town and didn't have time to write. Plus I've been busy with a new game. Anyways, wanna get back to it with this and see how things go. So what you think of this?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

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