#jed olsen imagines

[airbendertendou]

lonely heart ♡ danny johnson

soulmate au where the first time you have skin to skin contact, your body glows & is stamped w their handprint - it looks like a birthmark.

cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; reader offers ghostie a nude pic in exchange for freedom ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how danny looks is up to you!

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♡——

The heat of the campfire brushes against your face, warming your skin just enough to forget the biting wind. Nancy is beside you, falling asleep where she sits, nodding her head forward before she snaps out of it. Across the fire, Feng is chatting idly with Dwight and Steve, Leon chiming in when he felt like it. 

The bench-like-log you’re sitting on shifts as Nea takes a seat, letting out a huff as she settles. “It’s been quiet recently,” she says, “too quiet if you ask me.”

“I’m a little wary,” you agree. Your eyes scope the woods surrounding the survivors as if someone is going to pop out any second. They wouldn’t, though — the killers kept away from the light of the fire and never wandered any closer than they were allowed. “I wonder if something’s happened.”

Nea rolls her eyes, “we wouldn’t be so lucky.” 

You grin at her pessimism, shoving her lightly with your left shoulder. Nea snickers as Nancy jumps awake once more, jolting in her sleep before yawning. A faded, gray fog settles over the camp and with it, five more survivors make their way around the campfire. You know what that means — a new trial is bound to start at any second.

Readying yourself, your muscles tense and your heart rate picks up, preparing to sprint when the time comes. A darkened, indigo-tinted fog wraps around you — it’s cold and loud as it grasps you from the campfire. You blink and then you’re in Haddonfield. 

Taking in a deep breath, you shuffle quickly to the nearest generator. Feng smiles as she passes by you stealthily, clicking her flashlight at you a few times. The area is terrifyingly quiet — it must mean your killer this round is a watcher. You puff up your cheeks as you mis-wire something, moving away from the generator that’s popped.

A scream echoes in the distance — it sounds too close, so you take off.

Momentarily, you hide in a dusty bedroom. You peek from the walls, not spotting anyone other than the back of Leon’s bulletproof vest. Another look from the room — another scream hits the air. 

Finding another generator was easy enough, but trying to stay hidden was a little more difficult. Your fingers curl and tug on wires, the smell of oil and burning wires hitting you the more you twiddle with them. Claudette hovers beside you, checking to see if you need any healing. Deeming you healthy, she flops to the other side of the generator.

“It’s Ghostface,” she breathes. Looking over her shoulder warily, she gulps as she looks back to you. “Already got Feng and Dwight. Only one gen’s done ; I’ve been hooked.”

You pause your wiring, confusion building up in you. “I haven’t even seen him yet.”

Claudette pauses too, looking over you with a furrowed eyebrow. “If we don’t make it, then win for us. Yeah?”

The generator pops with completion, lighting up for a second and exposing your location. You take off in the opposite direction Claudette did, hopping through a window and out through the backdoor. A flash of black catches your eye — your killer has finally shown himself.

You decide to buy everyone else some time. Hopefully, with a little distraction, a few more generator’s could be fixed.

Sneaking behind him, you let out a small “psst!” and wait for his attention to fall on you. He whips around, white mask greeting you. Walking towards a closet, you point to it a few times. Ghostface looks from the closet, to you, and back again. You wiggle your hand, insisting, “someone’s in there!”

Curiously, the closet door creaks open and Ghostface sees it’s empty. He turns to face you slowly and you’re already holding back giggles. A chase is pursued — something you struggle to do with all of your laughter. He swings his knife haphazardly, not really aiming at you, but not allowing you to get away with your joke either.

“Heheh—ah!” After a successful swing, a cut slashes across your arm. Blood seeps from it as you fall to the ground, laughter still spilling from your lips as you roll around. Ghostface shakes his head down at you — as if he’s disappointed in your joke — before he saunters off to find his next victim. You frown as your laughter comes to a stop, “well, now what?”

Another generator pops and you think this is it. We’re so close to going home — well, what you call home now. Letting out a sigh, you sit up and wrap your new cut with a bandage. You hear a squeal, then a scream. Seems our Ghostie is agitated now ; ready to get the trial over with. 

Chills flow up your spine, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead as the feeling of being watched overpowers you. That can’t be good. You stiffen, looking through the corner of your eyes without turning your head. Hopefully, you’ll see him with your peripheral vision if he’s near. Otherwise— you didn’t want to think of the other option.

Sneakily, you tip-toe into a nearby house, hoping to wait out the feeling. But, you know you won’t. One thing about Ghostface is once his eyes are set on you, you’re not escaping. A noise catches your attention in the silence — the sound of a latch unlocking. 

The hatch — you must be the only one left. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you creep along the street, keeping an eye out for the hatch. You see it — it’s right in your sights and your heart rate picks up. Shaky breaths escape your parted lips as you glance around the empty street. Coast is clear — time to make a run for it.

Until a white mask phases in out of nowhere, directly on the other side of the hatch.

“Oh, come on,” you whine. Ghostface tilts his head at you, waving his knife teasingly. Your arm stings with the shine of it, bandage now being colored a deep red. “I’m so close to ending this!” He continues to stare your way silently. “Don’t you think this is a little unfair?”

“That’s the game, doll.” You’ve never heard him speak before now. A static-y, modulated voice isn’t what you expect to hear. He creeps closer, no longer directly across from you. “That’s what makes this fun.”

You purse your lips, fingers knotting together at the edge of your edge. “Okay, how about this? You let me take hatch, and I’ll let you take a shirtless picture of me. My face isn’t allowed to be in it, though!”

Ghostface bounced where he stood, an excited giggle echoing in his mask as he immediately agreed. Puffing up your cheeks, you let out a breath before nodding to yourself in encouragement. A polaroid camera has replaced the blood-soaked knife in his hand — even with the weapon gone from sight, dread flushes through you.

“Okay,” you say to yourself, “this is no big deal.”

Without another thought, your fingers clench the end of your shirt and raise it to cover your face. Your skin prickles with the wind, goosebumps raising at the new sensation. With bated breath, you wait to hear the shutter go off — a click, another giggle, the hatch closing ; anything. All that’s there is silence.

And then a leather glove is wrapped around your wrist.

Jumping at the sudden touch, your shirt falls back into place as you take a step back. Only a sliver of skin is free from the glove — just enough for his skin to brush against yours.

A golden sheen takes over you, settling where your bodies meet. In a panic induced state, you’re pushed to the ground as Ghostface hovers over top of you. Shaky, shallow breaths hit his mask as his camera is settled to the right of your head. Slowly, he peels a glove off and reaches for you.

Where his now bare hand meets, a light follows. Right on your wrist, the shape of his fingers is imprinted forever, as if it were a birthmark you were born with. It was supposed to be a myth — a tale shared between hopeless romantic’s. Soulmates weren’t supposed to actually exist.

Except, yours apparently did. In a realm you couldn’t escape ; killing you and your fellow survivors on a continuous loop. You were stuck there — stuck with a murderer as your soulmate until forevermore. 

Ruffled hair is exposed to the wind as Ghostface unmasks himself, his pupils practically hearts as he stares down at you. His eyes search your face, never settling on one particular spot as he drinks you in entirely. You feel as he lets out a breath ; feel his shoulders sag with some kind of relief as he grabs one of your hands. He leads it to his face and lets out another sigh when his skin glows, the shape of your hand left on the left side of his face.

“Mine,” his voice is soft. You can’t stop looking at him — can’t stop staring at your hand that’s been imprinted onto his cheek. “You’re all mine. Made just for me.”

You can’t tell if the feeling swelling inside of you is dread or excitement. But, you let him pull you closer anyways ; allow him to hug you as he pleases. This could come in handy, after all. Maybe.

——♡—— lets ignore that valentines day is over already teehee <3 i hope my version of ghostie is okay, idk how well i write him </3 airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

would Ghostface get married/have kids (if so, how many?)

Ghostface(s) when it comes to marriage and kids

I hope you don't mind me writing dbd ghostface, Billy, stu, Mickey altieri. If you wanted any more of the ghostfaces or if you want headcanons on how they would be as dads, feel free to let me know ^<^

Warnings: slight mentions of baby trapping on Jeds part, Canon typical violence (its Ghostface), spoilers for scream 5 on Billy's part

Fem! Leaning Reader, the marriage part could be read as gender neutral though

Jed Olsen

Jed isn't big on the concept of marriage for what most normal people would be when it comes to marriage. (I.E. the love and unification between two people) Jed definitely would use marriage with an significant other as a way to throw off the police for the most part.

A red harring to make profiling the Roseville killer much harder for them. For the most part, I think that Jed isn't keen on having the commitment of marriage because of his passion for being the ghostface.

So marriage with Jed wouldn't be a easy of fun one. You'll barely see him for possibly days on end between his day job and his true love- being ghost face. You would have to either be someone who is the house wife/husband type who asks no questions or the spouse who knows and supports jeds Ghost face passion.

When it comes to having children of his own, jed isn't big on it. Most cases, any pregnancy with jed would be accidental [if you're able to get pregnant] i.e. broken condoms, failed birth control.

On the very rare case that he feels like you're going to find out about his Ghostface passion, you might end up being pregnant as an attempt to keep you from leaving/ blowing his cover.

Kid total he wants: 1, maybe 2

Billy loomis

It's going to take a lot for Billy to want to get married. It's mostly because of his own parents and how their marriage ended.

I do believe that eventually, once Billy becomes more mature with his trauma having to deal with his mother abandoning him and his father not being the best, he might be more open to marriage. Like Jed, Billy might also use marriage as a cover for if he eventually goes back to becoming ghostface.

Ideally, Billy and Stu were never caught as the Woodsboro killers and got away with it, I feel that being married to Billy would feel like you're also in a way married to Stu given how close of a friendship they have with each other. At least with Billy, the marriage would feel more loving rather than you coexisting with a human sized murderous cat.

Although Billy does technically have a daughter, I don't think that he would be in any rush to have kids especially if the case was he just found out about knocking a girl up when he was a senior in high school. He would like to try to get to know the daughter that was hidden from him before he brings any more mini Lomis' into the world.

If we ignore scream 5 and Billy didnt have any children before marrying you, the case of any pregnancy would be most likey be an accidental one (i.e. not pulling out on time, condom broke, failed birth control, forgetting to use protection)

Kid total he wants: 1

Stu Macher

Stu would be one of the ghostfaces who would be into marrying someone for legitimate reasons rather than a alibi.

Out of him and Billy, Stu would be the first one to get married and potentially start a family of his own. Money wouldn't be an issue for him because of his family and his privileged upbringing to be able to be a better husband out of the ghostfaces.

Being married to Stu for the most part is close to a kinda normal marriage you'll get in your situation as the spouse of a Ghostface. Stus worst flaw would be his tendency of threatening you financially if you push too hard on his Ghostface hobby.

Having children with Stu would be one of the more natural things to happen compared to Billy or Jed. Especially if Stu and you have been together for a while.

Stu is also one of the more supportive Ghostface husbands when it comes to helping out with taking care of your shared children/ supporting you through your pregnancy.

Kid total he wants: 2 or 3, he's open to however many you want

Mickey Altieri

Mickey would probably marry you just to further cement his name into being known more for his killings in Windsor. He loves you in his own peculiar way but he also knows how you can help make him even more well known by you being the spouse of him.

Mickey is the only Ghostface that I don't really see a way I can write him to where he fully gets away with being Ghostface without making him out of his character. The most likely scenario is the both of you will end up marrying with before he gets caught or a prison wedding.

Marriage with mickey will be more isolating than marrying Jed because you will be isolated from the public for being the wife of the Windsor Ghostface and the fact your life revolves around seeing Mickey occasionally with the weekly phone calls.

Similar to mickey marrying, he would probably have a child for a similar rason- to keep his name in public. Don't get me wrong, he would love kids with you if you want that too.

Your pregnancy might be before he gets caught or during one of your conjugal visits with Mickey. I just don't think anyone would want you to adopt because of your marriage with mickey.

Kid total he wants: 1, maybe 2 at most

[cherubfae]

𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱 || {𝔩𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔡𝔶, 𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢}

what better way to test if your boyfriend can stay silent by sucking him off in the middle of a trial with a killer on the prowl? things do not go as planned.

tags: nsfw, smut, gn!afab! Resident Evil verse!reader, dubcon (just in case!!), descriptions of afab anatomy, degradation/namecalling (ghostie), forced blowjobs (ghostie), public acts of indecency, voyeurism (ghostie likes to watch), dry humping (Ghostie x reader), established relationship, slight ghostface x reader x leon, brief mentions of anal play, allusions to puppyboy!Leon, leon is a bit of a freak lmao he's def a closet perv, breeding kink (previous mentions about potentially having kids), Leon and reader are not good teammates x3, this got vulgar aaaaa

The Macmillan estate was vast, cluttered in useless machinery, old rusted tools, and many nooks and crannies for you and Leon to find a temporary safe haven in. The Ghostface had already successfully hooked an injured Meg, who had struggled enough to summon the Entity early, unfortunately, everyone knew they wouldn't make it in time to unhook her. Her sacrifice would soon be claimed by spindly inky spider-like legs. With one practically in the bag, the killer continued on his vicious pursuit of both Vittorio and Sable.

Crouched down into a squat with his back to the silent generator, Leon winces at the jingle of his belt, quickly unfastening the buckle and tugging down the zip. "Are you sure you can keep quiet?" The rookie teased. He looked smug, one dark brow raised, and his thumbs hooked into the loops of his uniform pants. The waistband of said pants sag around his hips, a sliver of skin revealed above his blue plaid boxers, looking oh so tantalizing.

Scoffing, you shoot him an incredulous look, unimpressed. "Leon, baby, every time one of the killers strikes you it sounds like you're practicing for a porno, you little masochist. This was your idea. Don't make me gag you." He knew full well you'd find whatever you could to shove in his mouth-- and he secretly hoped it would be the underwear you're currently wearing.

Whining, Leon's head dully thuds back against the generator. "Fuck, that doesn't sound half bad. Wanna try without first, baby, please. Promise I'll be your good boy." Giving you that signature grin you love so much, Leon easily swayed your opinion. He really was just like a puppy, always begging to be praised, and you were more than happy to oblige your boyfriend.

You missed all the toys you liked to use on him back home in Raccoon City. The way his ass stretched around the silver plug you oh so kindly fucked into him. Leon would just about die if any of his comrades ever found out that almost every night after his shift his partner was fucking his ass with a wolf-like tail butt plug or a pretty, glittery blue strap-on. He would never mention he had the ears, the studded collar, and the paw print gloves to match. All in an adoringly cute silvery-grey.

And when you weren't pounding into him? He had you folded in half beneath his strong body, ever so eager to prove just how much he's physically improved, humping into you in the deepest mating press possible. Never fully satisfied, much less satiated, unless you were dripping in his seed. He loveeeeed watching your hole clench with the absence of his dick, cum staining the sheets below. Like a doting, caring boyfriend, he'd push back all of his cum inside. You'd talked about it before. Maybe he wanted it to take this time.

You two were insatiable, like rabbits.

Now, trapped in this eternal purgatory, things were certainly no different. You two continued on as normal as you could in this hellscape. You thanked whatever god, probably the Entity, thank you were sent here with your boyfriend. True hell would be to never get to see one another again.

Deciding he is taking too long; you yank them down yourself. A gust of wind ripples across the ground, making the two of you shudder and huddle in even closer.

His erection is hard and hot, flushed red and thicker than your wrist, and visibly twitching in your grasp. You've barely touched him yet and already Leon gasps like he's close to cumming.

"Fuck, baby, need you. I need you, please." Leon begs, shuffling closer. He claims your mouth in a passionate kiss, parting with a heavy whine. Gently lowering you to rest between his legs, he parts your lips gently; always so sweet and kind to you. Tapping his cock against your lips, you open wide, tongue lolling out to lap at his tip. His moans are delicious and it's clear there was never any intention of him staying quiet. He'd already failed.

You take him in as far as you can go, swallowing around his head once he hits the back of your throat. His fingers curl around the back of your neck to keep you in place, idly toying with the ends of your hair. Too deep in your element, you fail to hear a rustling noise several feet away from you.

Leon, drunk on pleasure, snapped his head up. Through ashen blonde bangs he makes out the unmistakable shadowy outline of the Ghostface's shroud billowing in the wind. Although straining, he can hear the muffled, heavy breathing rasp from behind the killer's mask. Yet, the cloaked murderer makes no move to stop for the couple.

Narrowing his eyes, he watches Ghostface with confusion. Watches as the killer sheaths his knife into the ground with a dull thud. Despite the distance, Leon doesn't miss the jerking motion Ghostface does with his hand now between his crouched legs.

Leon's hand cards through your hair, stroking the silken strands lovingly. A gasp catches in his throat when your eyes tilt up, peering at him through your lashes, with your mouth full of his thick cock.

Smirking, he caressed your cheek. "We've got an audience, love. The Ghostface," he hummed. "But he's not trying to attack us. Guess he likes watching my pretty baby suck their boyfriend's dick." He gently taps your cheek, a signal to continue. "Whaddya say, wanna give him a better look? Want him to touch you? Yeah? Atta baby." Leon waves his hand. "Go ahead then, Mr. Ghostface. Do what you will."

Now you hear it. The uneven, raspy breathing. The crunching of heavy boots on dead grass, the cracking of twigs as the predator creeped ever closer. There was the undeniable scent of steel, of faint cologne, and the tang of copper. Blood.

Heat pools in your abdomen at the lewdness of this whole scenario. There was something undeniably sexy that both your boyfriend and some masked stranger, a serial killer, were getting off to such a display of indecency.

A gloved hand, sleek against your soft hair, roughly pushes your head down forcing you to take Leon to the back of your throat; Leon crying out in ecstasy. You gasp and gag, sputtering and coughing around the length, your nose buried in Leon's pubic hair. Unable to look to see what's happening, you do what you can to focus on pleasing your boyfriend. The strong hand on your hand is a heavy reminder that the roles have now been switched.

Something warm and hard pressed at your ass. It didn't take you too long to guess as to what it may be. A second later, you're being pushed tightly into Leon's chest, your hips harshly gripped between gloved hands as Ghostface drags his bare, flushed cock along the seam of your jean shorts. He's long and thick, that much is evident, with every drag of his cock along your clothed cunt. Precum clings to the light blue fabric, staining it.

Ghostface humps his cock at your backside like a mutt breeding a bitch. His larger frame has you caged between the two males, thighs pinning yours in place and gloved hands groping any skin he can touch. You yelp as Leon's cock falls out of your mouth with a wet pop. Spit and saliva connect the two. You wrap your hand around him, sticking out your tongue to lap at his head moaning low.

Slipping his hand beneath your waistband he alternates from grinding his gloved fingers along your slit and grabbing a handful of your tits. The texture was rough. It rubbed your skin raw, massaging your velvet walls in such a way that you saw stars. You didn't care how fucked out you looked anymore, you rode Danny's fingers eagerly.

"Suck his dick like a good little whore," came the raw, deep voice of the Ghostface. "You like your mouth being used as his little fuck hole, don't you, sweetheart?" Feigning sweetness, the killer cards his fingers through your hair. Tears prick your eyes, but fuck, it was so hot. It felt so fucking sexy to be used like this.

Gripping you at the scalp, Ghostface roughly forces you to bob your head up and down on Leon's cock. Your boyfriend frantically tries to give you some semblance of peace and security by gripping and massaging your shoulders with his warm hands. His eyes squeeze tight, rapidly inhaling and exhaling.

"F-fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Leon yelps, hips gyrating. Borderline fucking your throat with every hump of his hips to your face. He hoped you would forgive him. It felt too damn good to stop now.

Ghostface cackled, forcing you back down. His large hand greatly obscures the back of your neck. He holds you in place, all the while laughing at your tear-stained face desperately trying to swallow down all of the rookie's cum; white essence spilling out of your mouth as you're overfilled.

"Such a slutty, slutty little mess, hmm?" Ghostface grumbled. He yanks you off Leon's dick, forcing you to face him. Leon instinctively wraps his strong arms around your tummy. Ghostface kicks your legs apart to crouch between them. His leaking, bare cock now visible with his shroud hiked up to his waist. Long, hard and visibly throbbing for attention. He cups at your sex, mocking your pathetic whine. "Think you can fit two dicks in there, sweetheart? Whaddya say, rookie cop? Feel like sharing?" As if Leon had any choice.

Collecting the cum trickling down your chin, Ghostface pushes two leather-clad fingers into your mouth. The digits press down on your tongue, noisily slurping on them. Red eyes, as red as blood, stare down at your wanton expression with faux kindness. There is only sadistic mockery in his tone. "Show us your hole, then, sweets. I think it's time I deserved a treat. I'll go easy on ya. I'd hate to make Kennedy pissy." He hissed, his hand going to his cock, jerking himself directly over you. "Unless you'd rather be hooked?"

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[apollodarling-writes]

yan! dbd ghostface (danny johnson) headcanons

cws: yandere themes, danny is a perv, non-consensual picture taking, stalking obv, slight nsfw themes but danny is just a freak, danny is a sadist, gore, danny makes out with your wounds, obsessive! danny, possessive! danny,

— yan! ghostface whose eye you catch in your first trial. you who are wide eyed, disoriented, and hyper-aware of your surroundings make easy prey.

— yan! ghostface who stalks you for awhile before approaching you, using your disbelief and naivety against you.

— yan! ghostface who explains your situation, portraying himself as a fellow survivor and guides you through the motions of the match before pressing his blade to your throat.

— yan! ghostface who smirks beneath his mask, watching as your eyes widen with fear and betrayal. he feels himself become aroused as your pretty optics glisten with tears, groaning as you beg for him to let you go.

— yan! ghostface who is stunned by a flashlight, feeling you wriggle free from his grip and sprint off like a frightened bunny.

— yan! ghostface who you are wary of in each match. he singles you out and taunts you, describing each horrific thing he’ll do to you once he gets his hands on you, finding that this little obsession of his is growing by the day.

— yan! ghostface who begins thinking about you even outside of trials. it started as wondering what he would do to you next, turning into lustful daydreams and palming himself at the thought of you.

— yan! ghostface who snaps polaroids of you while you do mundane things. assembling a medkit or toolbox, finding materials for offerings, talking to your fellow survivors…

— yan! ghostface who loathes the sight of you smiling at the others in the survivor camp. you belong to him. that smile of yours is reserved for him. your laugh is reserved for him.

— yan! ghostface who slowly feels those lustful feelings of his grow into something deeper. he finds himself thinking less and less about ways to kill you, and more about ways he could make you smile.

— yan! ghostface who, in your next trial with him, brings you the body of each survivor, dropping it in front of you much like a cat would gift its owner a dead mouse.

— yan! ghostface who corners you, sitting on your stomach and wrapping his fingers around your throat. he swiftly snaps a polaroid of this beautiful sight, crazed ramblings about how you’ve caught his attention leaving his lips.

— yan! ghostface who is amused at how quickly you’ve gained his interest, his favorite pastimes stalking you and leaving just enough of a trace for you to know he was there.

— yan! ghostface who finds it incredibly romantic to hold your hand while you bleed out beneath him, his mask lifted to show off the frenzied look in his eyes, blood dripping from his chin and onto your paling features.

— yan! ghostface who looooves to makeout with your stab wounds. he’s always sure to leave you for last, finding motivation in the fact that if he rids the trial of all other survivors, he can spend as much time with you as he pleases.

— yan! ghostface who coos at you as you beg for him to let you go… or to just end it already. a frown tugging at his lips as he feels his heart pang with the slightest of remorse. he quickly covers it up with a mocking sneer, telling you that you should be proud to bear his love in such a way. no one’s ever had it but you.

— yan! ghostface who singles out each person you talk to in their next trial with him, mercilessly slaughtering them as he tells them to stay the fuck away from you.

— yan! ghostface who somehow convinces the entity to let you spend some time with him on a random day, designating it as your new birthday. he’ll watch with interest as your shaky fingers grip the rusted fork, shoving the mediocre cake down your throat. he’s never seen a better sight.

— yan! ghostface who loooves everything about you <33

[mundoperla]

Hello iz me, I thought of another request sorry sdvhf- Some killers reactions to finding a gn survivor in the middle of a trial asleep? Just passed the fuck out in the back seat of a truck in the cornfield map- Or asleep in a locker or the corner of a room, waiting for a teammate to come back, something like that

(No established relationships, for both of the requests I sent!… yet) 👀

If you could include Frank again because..👉🏻👈🏻, but aside from that, any other killers you want to write hcs for! :D Thank you again!

i see frank? i fold like a samsung galaxy z flip 4

𝘿𝘽𝘿 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡

u see the title babes G/N reader x Killers🤭

— killer(s) included;; frank morrison & danny johnson bc i had no clue who else to add🧍‍♂️

‼️tw(s);; none!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓

✿.｡༅ He was confused to say the least. Had survivors tried hiding inside and under the cars before? absolutely, but he had never encountered one sleeping in one.

✿.｡༅ What is he even supposed to do in this situation??? He could drag you out by your ankles and toss you onto a hook, easy kill, but you looked so peaceful.

✿.｡༅ Frank doesn’t blame you for deciding to pass out during the trial, he gets exhausted during them and after too.

✿.｡༅ He’s a killer not a monster 🙄

✿.｡༅ Ultimately you’re left alone, he’d feel guilty waking you up, he doubts the anxious pre-trial periods don’t help much with relaxation either. Coldwind farm wasn’t any better — but at least there were some spots that you could lay your head for a minute.

✿.｡༅Frank will make sure not to make any noise around the car you’re in as to not disturb you, he’ll kill one of your friends far away or steer chases away from the vehicle.

✿.｡༅ Internally he worries if the car is too hot in there for you, it was a very warm and sunny setting you guys were in so of course he was anxious that you’d overheat in there.

 ✿.｡༅ Despite his worries, you were still peacefully sleeping.

✿.｡༅ If you’re lucky he might sit near the truck you’re resting in while the match continues, he’ll wait for you to get up so he can take you to an exit.

✿.｡༅ You can give him hell about him actually being ‘soft’ & he’ll threaten to yank you out of the vehicle next time he finds you and then toss you on the rustiest hook he can find, but he never does.

• • •

𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 𝕵𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊

✿.｡༅ Oh hey

✿.｡༅ Danny finds you sleeping in one of the old houses in Haddonfield, he was looking for someone else but you were a much more pleasant surprise!

✿.｡༅ Unfortunately unlike Frank, he’s yanking you up and throwing you on a hook😪

✿.｡༅ He’ll catch you again in another house sleeping after he gets rid of the rest of your team, he’s confused now.

✿.｡༅ You’re quite literally in a life or death situation yet you’re choosing to sleep?? Surely you’d want to leave just like everyone else, so why were you just clocking out???

✿.｡༅ Of course he’s thinking of killing you right here, but this time he decides to let you have some peace before he kills you.

✿.｡༅ What does he do instead? Lay down on the floor next to you! He could’ve just went to the next room over and lay on the mattress but he wanted to still be as close to you as possible.

✿.｡༅ You’re unable to see because of the mask, but he’s looking at you from the side. He sees how you manage to keep yourself together before the games even begin and now he sees you relaxing once you’ve been thrown into one.

✿.｡༅ Thats pretty damn cool to him, he’s slaughtered your friends countless times but you were still somehow calm.

✿.｡༅ Maybe he’ll let you sleep some more, hatch is right downstairs so he’ll let you leave this time.

• • •

WEEWOOOWEEEWOOOOWEEEEWOOO

[apocalypse-shuffle]

DANNY "JED OLSEN" JOHNSON | THE GHOST FACE (dead by daylight)

—

“Try Not to Scream” (Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson | The Ghost Face x Fem!Reader)

| After you’ve been with Danny for a little while, the instance of him kidnapping you and revealing who he really was behind you but not forgotten, he decides it’s high time he start desensitizing you to what it is he does.

| NSFW, canon typical violence, murder, mature themes, moral dilemma, the reader-insert has in braids (TW: general sadism, kidnapping, unhealthy relationship) -dark!reader & goth!reader

| This fic is a continuation of sorts to the “Jed Olsen” section in this imagine post. This also doesn’t take place in the Entity’s realm. (Pic source: DbD promotional material)

| 2k+ words

EXTRA HC: The justification I’m operating on, in regards to Danny sparing anyone and/or genuinely “dating” anyone, is that Danny has to see some sense of kinship in the other person. A sense that you’re not lying to yourself like everyone else but him about your darkness, and seeing the potential for murder in you. Then he’ll allow for a little partnership action.

“Stop trembling.”

You flinch.

That low timbre travels through all the nerve endings in your spine like an electric shock, jolting you ram-rod straight out of your curled up position close as you could get to the door of his new school vehicle.

In spite of his talking to you your lips remain sealed in a thin line as you glower out the window. At the bottom level of an otherwise uninhibited parking tower where Danny figured you could make the least trouble. Staring at nothing but white lines on the asphalt lit sparsely by dull yellowing lights.

Even now his voice still has heat pooling in your gut that makes you want to grind your teeth into a fine alabaster powder. The less pleasant queasy feeling in your stomach that accompanies that warmth isn’t much consolation.

Jed— Danny was full of possibilities, and not one of them was conventional or safe.

Really the only ‘good’ thing about tonight was that he wouldn’t have time to keep all his focus on you, to weigh you down with the force of it, because he had a target he planned on killing tonight and an op-ed that would need finishing right after.

Horrible though it may be, you’re glad you're not the center of his obsession right now. Pierce, his newest victim since you guys settled into town that he’s been dragging you along to watch for weeks, firmly held that position in your stead tonight.

He clears his throat. Reluctantly, you turn your head to watch him.

Cracking his knuckles, Danny gives you a long look, full brows furrowed. You give the thicket above his eyes more attention than you do the dark orbs themselves.

“Don’t do anything dumb, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for your response or stick around to try hammering in his point more, however, twitching fingers a clear sign of his being more eager for carnage than any type of lecturing.

He slips on the mask right before he leaves the car; the rest of him decked out only in civvies and hunting boots. The ghost mask is one you’ve gotten plenty familiar with in the past. Vividly, you can remember the sight of that mask hunting you down and then directly in your face as the news dubbed “Ghost Face” slit your then boyfriend’s throat and christened you in his spray of blood before Danny had done you the disservice of sparing your life.

It's hard to look away as your ex(?) makes his way from the car with the hood of his black hoodie up, leaving you sitting pretty and still struggling to hold back your trembling in the passenger seat. Left to do nothing but watch.

Or to call the cops once your sense finally daigns to come back to you.

He had seemed so certain last night that you wouldn’t, and you hate that you even have to wonder whether you’ll prove him right or if you’ll finally buck up, reactivate your stalling-like-shit morality, and call the cops on his pasty ass right now regardless of your general distrust of the police.

As Danny waltzes without a hitch across the parking lot to where Pierce’s car is bracketed by two thick concrete pillars on either side at the back corner of the lot, though, no part of you moves towards Danny’s burner phone where it rests in the cup holder beside you like a taunt.

Or an opportunity.

Your painted nails tap against the button to turn the window down, a light rhythmic clicking sounding through the silent car while your eyes stay transfixed to Danny. Danny, who might as well be invisible as he closes in on the car without incident just as Pierce is ducking down to get in.

The transition after that is well timed and impressive enough that your eyebrows raise in place of where you should be screaming your head off.

Heedless of good citizenship, your lips stay stubbornly shut as you watch Danny wait until the exact moment Pierce — still unaware of where the seasoned killer is crouched out of immediate sight by the passenger door — closes the driver’s door shut behind him to open the muscular man’s passenger door and slip inside like he belongs there too.

When your window slips down a crack you don’t even bother acting surprised, you just stop moving, hold your breath, and listen.

In the immediate seconds after Danny enters Pierce startles, his face contorting in disbelief, and then he has a knife through his sternum from one blink to the next.

A muffled scream, high and panicked and quickly cutoff, meets your ears for hardly a second before silence descends around you once again.

His expressions look stilted as they come to him, like he’s lagging, but Danny doesn’t give him the chance to do much but emote as his next three stabs come in quick succession.

Sternum, the joint of his shoulder when he tries to sit up better, somewhere besides his Adam's apple, his damn cheek; all leading up to the final blow where Danny’s blade glints against the lighting in the sports car before being buried to the hilt in Pierce’s eyeball.

Blood flies everywhere.

Danny’s just pushing out of the passenger’s seat to get more leverage, knocking the bottom of the hilt with the heel of his palm so that the knife goes even farther in, when the automated lights go out and plunge the inside of Pierce’s car into darkness.

This time you don’t hear anything.

Not a stray beep of the horn or the drag of soaked fingers over tempered class or a squeak from the slightly rocking cars’ joints.

Not even when the flash of his camera gives you a few seconds of discombobulating previews of the carnage he’s created does the silence break.

Nothing.

Not until Danny’s slipping back out of the car and closing the passenger door with a hardly notable click. In that brief moment the lights kick back on and the scene that greets you is even bloodier than when you saw it last.

Blood managed to spray a dripping arch in front of the driver’s seat window, the skin around Pierce’s eye socket protrudes as if a tiny bomb had been planted in it, and his eyeball dangles precariously from his head by whatever tendon lies behind it.

His throat is slit now too, not just stabbed. One continuous perforated mess that’s compromised the structural integrity of the muscled man’s neck so badly his head, where it’s trying its best to slip over the side of the headrest he’s propped up against, has slipped back far enough it creates the illusion of a gaping cavernous maw below his chin. Crimson and gurgling. Like he gave one last wide grin as he met his death.

You can barely imagine the amount of blood you’d be able to see up close…or the sheer force of how it would all smell. It makes your stomach clench and by the time the lights have shut back off and Danny’s easing behind the wheel beside you your eyes burn too.

Contrary to the mild sample you get of what the inside of Pierce’s car smells like, he's covered in less blood than you had expected him to be. Instead of that striking you with fear all you can think about is how much of a Danny Thing that is to manage.

Of course he’d fucking kill like he’s afraid of increasing his dry cleaning bill even when he’d been so hyped up he was trembling on the drive over; there was control behind all that strange unconventional bravado of his.

He slips off his mask.

All but a single dark smear across the stark white of the masked forehead bears no sign of his misdeeds.

“Don’t faint.”

That’s what he leads with.

No questioning the security of the contents of your stomach or how red your eyes have gotten. He just jumps directly back into conversation like you didn’t just witness him kill a man.

It unfreezes you though, and with a gasp of breath you’re talking before you can fully check yourself, “That doesn’t sound like a ‘me’ issue.”

“Oh?” Danny chuckles darkly. “I can make it a personal issue for you after the fact, I assure you.” He raises his brows in question, the quirk of his lips sharp, and you can’t help the way your saliva turns bitter in the face of it.

At your lack of comeback he lets himself pull out the camera in his pocket. That too is streaked only minimally crimson.

When it slips up and he points it at your face you’re not fast enough to give him your back. You’re gazing directly at him and probably looking utterly enamored in your shock.

The murderer — the man who seems utterly determined to drag you against your will across the country with him — heeding no mind to your displeasure, takes a few more shots before you catch yourself and shift out of the light shining in through the windshield.

Pictures already taken, though, Danny doesn’t bother with you, already flipping his camera around.

“Nice,” he murmurs, clicking through the photos. He glances up at you then, winks. “I think these might be better than the pictures I took with you the night we met.”

You're speaking before you can talk yourself out of it, tone sharp, “The night you tried to kill me?”

He pauses.

His fingers stutter for a second over silver buttons, his camera wiring, before he meets the fire in your gaze with his own inferno.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Spit too much fire and you might burn yourself.”

For a while you hold his stare regardless of his warning. He kidnapped you, he didn’t get to force you to act like this was some kind of fun outing. It didn’t matter how avidly you had stared into Pierce’s car.

The unused burner in the cup holder still staring back at you didn’t mean anything.

Part of you wants to break that damn camera. Maybe then he’d finally fucking cry about something, show some actual genuine emotion for once.

Fuck.

Letting out a harsh breath through your teeth, you turn away from him, hiding your clenched fists in between your legs.

It was best you didn’t provoke him and you knew that. The good thing about Danny, though, was that while he burned hot, he didn’t burn long.

And you were determined to work that in your favor any chance you got.

From the driver's seat you hear your companion relax and your shoulders slump.

They ache with the remnants of your tension.

“Sure,” you acquiesce, licking slowly over your cracked lips and looking back at him with a little less fire in your eyes. “Why then? Why all the stabs if you were just going to slit his…you know?”

“His. Throat,” Danny stresses. Low, short.

He works his gloves over his fingers with his teeth, stuffing the leather in his waistband near where you know the sheath for his tactical knife is strapped against his thigh behind the center console.

You duck your head, braids knocking forward, force your hands to relax, then begin to fiddle with the rosary beads hung low on your neck. A dower mirth lifts your brows; as if the god you didn’t even believe in could save you now.

And for all you knew this was one of Danny’s gifts that he’d stolen off some poor person's dead body, so what good juju it could’ve had was probably tainted anyway.

“Fine,” you mutter, voice stilted and rough. “Why do all that if you were gonna slit his throat anyway?”

Hands on the wheel Danny shrugs - shrugs!

“I like to slit their throats sometimes, it makes the scene more dramatic, you know? Plus, I wanted to get you as acquainted as I could so I drew it out a bit more. But I’ll admit I went a lot faster than I would’ve if I was in a more private space, that’s why I like killing them in their houses.” He turns to you fully, lifts his hand past the partition without a care for how you flinch, and moves some of your braids interwoven with your fluff of curls out of your face so he can bore his gaze directly into yours. The pad of his fingers are dewy against your umber skin, his touch tender only because of their feel. “Sometimes it’s fun when they fight, when I get to debase them in the one place they feel like home.”

You bite back the urge to grimace.

It figures that the one time you get a straight answer out of him is tonight.

“Oh,” you breathe, fingers stumbling over the beads you’re rolling between them, “I…guess that’s good to know.”

Danny smiles, it’s not fake but now that you know the truth it doesn’t sit right on his face either, before turning back to his camera.

At least, you supposed, you now had more of an idea as to how he’d dispose of you if you stopped being entertaining.

The memory of the glint of Danny’s knife in the light, its own omen, as he closed in on his victim’s car (the victim of his stalking, of his murder) flickers through your mind. Flashes of the dead man’s gaping flesh swiftly follow.

Would you like it when The Ghost Face finally claimed your soul too? Would his being through with you grant you damnation or not?

Silent, you watch him get situated once he’s finished looking over his cache for the evening. His profile stands out starkly against the tower lights behind him, reedy defined features and that blocky nose that once regularly held up glasses he didn’t need to see. He’s almost angel-pretty like this. Makes a pang strike through your chest at the remnants of before, of poking at him while he worked until he couldn’t help but indulge you and his numbing kisses and the dorky (curated) way he’d push up his glasses after laughing at something cute you’d done.

It was ridiculous, this war within you. Everything about Jed Olsen had been a lie and yet still the phantom of him intrinsic to Danny continues to have you yearning.

Still you can’t help but wonder if the stab of his knife through your dark sensitive flesh, the feel of his masked or barren eyes stripping you to tendon as he plunged past your ribcage, would feel like divinity.

Danny brushes the choppy fringe of bangs that line his forehead back, streaks blood through brunet strands, and still your heart’s desire remains. Would it be…better like this? If you stayed with him, let yourself be content with a knife in your hand and a far more familiar devil reigning at your side?

The car turns on and Danny starts driving you guys away from his newest crime scene, flicking the radio on as he goes. The dvd in his player spins and the moody tones of The Ire fill the heavy air between you both. Despite yourself you fall into Maya Brooks distorted vocals, letting your body sway and shift minutely in tandem with the music.

Danny’s eyes when he glances at you are dull — you’d say they were grim if you thought he had the ability to feel remorse, but his expression is unusually open. His gaze intent on the way you’re softly mouthing along to Derelict.

“We won’t stay west too long, okay, Honey?” His voice is dry, but the curl of his tongue around the pet name is like a verbal lash. “You just hold on and I’ll have you slitting throats up north before New Years. You’re gonna love it.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

I seem to only be able to write Danny once every year (not necessarily for a lack of trying, I’m a slow creator), but I really love exploring the horror and moral fuckery of these slasher romances so I had a great time writing this. And, yes, I did give Danny glasses as a part of his Jed ruse.

Ignore that I included a band that isn’t 90’s, I just really wanted to include The Ire idk (they’re described as goth/post-punk, but really I just wanted to talk about them a little). Plus the setting is nebulous anyway.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

Alt. Banner (scrapped) —

[lorimnnn]

dbd killers with a crybaby!reader

don’t worry, i promise i’m working on pt.3 of Mine for the Michael fic. I’m just supr unmotivated but don’t want you thinking i’m dead or something. anyway:

summary: jiwoon hak and the ghost face with a reader who tears up easily. you’re sensitive and not good with confrontation nor blood, and are super sensitive to the pain around you. sometimes you get overwhelmed and just need to sit down and cry it out...

cw: i mean, it’s dbd? swearing, gore, murders, obsession

also, i’m taking requests!

---

THE TRICKSTER - JIWOON HAK

finds your tears entertaining, appreciates that you’re such a willing participant in his art

it takes a few trials for him to realise that your reactions aren’t temporary and are a genuine response to your surroundings

starts to find you a bit annoying after that

like, what are you doing here if you can’t handle it? all the survivors need a bit of grit to survive. you’re no fun otherwise. once he realises that, he starts to transfer his anger towards the Entity.

will be in denial that he feels bad for you

the first few trials that he realises if he chases you, you’ll just collapse and cry or sniffle really adorably pathetically. unintentionally makes you his obsession each trial because he saves you for last, mostly because you’re no fun and the easiest to kill

will mori you out of frustration

eventually starts snatching you by the back of your collar and dumping you through the hatch. not because he feels guilty. no, not at all. you’re just really, really annoying...

finds himself thinking about you always 

why are you always crying?

don’t you know you have to adapt?

you have to get over it. 

one day you’re the only one left again and not only that, but that dreaded Trickster is saving you for last again. from your point of view, he’s deliberately tormenting you knowing that mentally, you can’t take it.

he’s secretly going easy on you because he’s wondering whether or not you’ll have it in yourself to finish the generators and stand up for yourself

but you’re so distraught that you mess up one of the generators and it explodes, and you can’t take it, you burst into tears. you feel so bad for the other survivors for being roped in with you, and you can’t even do your part right without crying. 

“Aish!” he swears sharply. A knife slams into the wall next to your head and you jump, lifting your wet face from your arms to stare at The Trickster. Fear quakes through your body and you brace yourself for his assault, whether that be another mori or basically dumping you through the hatch like used trash (it hasn’t occurred to you that he might be being nice when he does it, because logically, he has no reason to be nice)

you start to whimper when the tip of his blade finds your chin, forcing your head back. it thuds against the wall and pain spirals across the back of your skull, a wince lancing across your expression--- a cute little look that earns you a chuckle from the demented idol. 

“You’re really annoying, you know,” he tells you. “You can’t do anything right.”

oh, and he’ll say this like he’s comforting you, his voice soft and sweet and soothing. your muddled little brain can’t begin to understand what he’s trying to say to you, and only clings to his faux kindness.

at this point, he’ll just have to accept it. he has a soft spot for you. you’re just so cute and helpless, and you can’t help it that you care so much for your fellow survivors even though you’re nothing but a waste of space on their team...

is this why you’re always compensating by using yourself as a human shield? honestly, while it’s partly admirable, he finds the more you offer yourself up to him like that, the less he wants to hurt you

With his other hand, he strokes buries it in your hair. The way he strokes it is gentle enough, but you’re well aware he can snap your neck in seconds if he wants to. 

“You’re really lucky you’re cute. I almost feel bad for you.”

he does. he feels extremely bad for you because you’re not designed for this kind of world, and because of that he just can’t bring himself to recognise you as another survivor

“Hah,” he’ll sigh. “I can’t do it.”

“C-can’t do what?”

He’ll roll his eyes. “What else? Kill you.”

pulls you into his arms before you can comment on it. the affection is too much, you cry into him. he’ll make some comments about you ruining his clothes, but he doesn’t really mean it. will pull you closer if you try pull away. 

also keep in mind--- is not sympathising with you at all. he’s a psycho. he just learned to find pleasure in your tears and realised you’re kinda cute and can’t be roped in with the rest of the survivors if you’re never going to play the Entity’s game. (this is when he’ll start thinking something narccistic, like, ‘of course she cries and makes noises. this is the entity’s gift to me.)

the type to lick your face and taste your tears. “no more crying when you’re with me, okay? or I’ll give you something real to cry about.”

he either means he’ll fuck you or kill you again, but could honestly mean both depending on how you take it

GHOST FACE - DANNY ‘JED OLSEN’ JOHNSON

so many pictures

will max out his film on your tears

he knew about you the second the Entity welcomed you into her realm. at first, he just thought you were cute. he blamed it on the fleeting infatuation he felt towards you, knowing that once your fear wore off, you wouldn’t be that cute anymore

it never wore off

he became obsessed

openly obsessed too, will seek you out and ignore all the other survivors despite the Entity’s will, and will track you down outside of trials to stalk you, taunt you, anything to keep you in the constant state of meltdown he finds so endearing

experiments with your tears. doesn’t want you panicked all the time, of course. 

because of how he targets you in trials, the other survivors quickly adapted and learned to abandon you if they wanted to save themselves or win. danny weaponised this fact, of course.

“aw, babe, don’t be sad. or do. you’re all alone!”

will pull your terrified body against his chest and tip your head back with his knife, forcing you to watch your fellow survivors scatter around you. will tour you around the trial to see what makes you tick the most.

“are you proud of me, babe? i hooked all your friends within the first ten minutes of the trial.”

cue a sniffle that excites him even more

and you’ll feel it too. his hardness against your back, solid and probing and thrilled at your sensitivity. he wants to traumatise you as much as possible. he wants you horrified, and he wants to abuse your fear until there’s none left. there’s never been so much of it before.

don’t get the wrong idea, though. no matter how much he likes you, he won’t touch you--- he’s not a rapist, he’s a killer and a perv. will exploit your face with his camera and mori you and hook you as much as he wants. there’s no stopping him.

not for a while

it’s takes a really long time for him to start challenging why you still cry. it won’t occur to him that it’s such an abnormality until he’s stalking you six months in and watching you mourn another failed trial. let’s say it was with the oni. the oni mori-d you on the spot, and here you were, crying over it despite those same events happening every other trial without fail. and it only occurs to him because it’s six months and he was planning on something cheesy like, “happy six-month anniversary!” because he’s never been consistently obsessed for such a long period of time.

this is when the posessiveness starts to hit. The Oni made you cry? That large, angry piece of shit?

don’t worry babe, he’ll take care of it for you

Only he’s allowed to make you cry like that. only him and nobody else. this is when he’ll start laying claim, calling you his.

he flays the Oni and leaves his scraps scattered across his temple. takes a picture and leaves it on your bed so you know what he’s done, and calls it his anniversary gift

he’ll now start putting in the effort for you to trust him. wants you to admit you’re his, too!

who cares if he’s mori’d, hooked, tunnelled, and killed you a billion times over? fresh start, new beginnings!

will nail it through every one else’s heads that you’re his and that you’re tears are his and that blah blah blah is his

honestly, the other killers will only leave you alone so Danny will stop blabbing on and on about you 

he’s really starting to feel like your boyfriend now

that’s what the other survivors are calling him, anyway. y/n’s boyfriend. 

Danny fully embraces it and starts calling himself your boyfriend, much to your displeasure. But you do start to notice that your trials are becoming less and less frustrating to endure, and you know it’s because of him. He’s even saving you for last, now. The chasing isn’t even half-bad anymore. (And especially with Danny, he’s going to make the chasing feel kinky as fuck)

learns he really likes your laugh as much as he likes your tears. finds himself smiling when he grabs you around the waist mid-spring and hoists you off the ground.

shudders with a sick smirk when you hug him back. you’re so cute.

but he is the Ghostface. Wants you to love his alter-ego as much has you love Danny Johnson, your mostly normal, stalkerish boyfriend

forces you to hold his knife and pretend to hurt him, smirking when you cry 

makes you carve your initials into his body as you sniffle here and there, your tears stinging against the open wound 

kisses you and whispers dirty shit into your ear as you do so, because the dumbass thinks it’ll make it all better

“that’s it, baby. God, that feels so good. Push harder. Hurt me. Fuckkkk-”

“I don’t like this, Danny.”

“Who?”

“G-Ghostface.” Your bottom lip wobbles as more tears slip down your face. “I don’t like this, Ghostface.”

“Just a little longer, baby.”

Will be surprisingly gentle with you, once you admit you’re his

but don’t be fooled. you’re his forever. the second he’s jealous, or you consider leaving, remember he’s the same man who gets off on your pain and tormented you the first six months of knowing you...

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Obsession | Ghostface, Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson | Dead By Daylight

Summary. the ghostface isn’t known to be gentle, but when it comes to his... obsession, he can’t seem to bring out anything other than a wicked devotion that many could only envy, even if his muse couldn’t accept it just yet.

Warnings. intimacy, suggestive material, heavy petting, yandere vibes for ghostface tbh

Reader. Female reader <3

Word Count. 1392 words

Authors Notes. another danny fic lets gooooooooooooooo, only spell check was used and i wrote this in only an hour and a half while watching house of the dragon and barely able to speak english at this point. i love commas if you couldnt tell that already lmao. enjoy!

Obsession

the state of being obsessed with someone or something.

"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"

an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind.

plural noun: obsessions

ㅡ”without obsession, life is nothing.” John Waters

There was something in the way he held you that made his grip secure, where you could feel the groove under every knuckle and the rise of his calloused skin, it was safe. It was comforting, really, if you ignored the suffocating reality that this wasn’t a choice of your own free will, and that your current situation was one that you had to become accustomed to. Large, needy hands move around you as you lay on your back, and you remain still enough for him to get comfortable on you.

His mask is shifted upwards slightly enough to see his lips, a wicked smile shows between them, and you feel a shiver up your spine as your body relaxes enough for the Ghostface to not know of your own inner turmoil's that are hidden behind your eyes and above your heart. He rests his head on your chest, face turned up into the crook of your neck and shoulder, his mask laying on the other side of your body while a killer finds comfort in your warmth- legs open and his weight crushing you in an oddly pleasant way.

He smells of leather, iron, and cologne, his hair is longer than usual, the short black tufts have now become loose curls that tickle the side of your face and neck. His scruff is starting to grow, you note, feeling it scratch your skin as he nuzzles into you further to comfort himself. He finally stills, and you let out a small sigh, giving yourself some time to shift under him for your own comfort.

He's cold, so unbelievably cold, and he saps the warmth your body created like a leech does to an open sore. Your heart picks up a bit as you feel his gaze on you, looking through the flesh and into a deeper part of yourself that even you refuse to acknowledge. His eyes aren't meeting yours, yours are closed, relaxed, and moving behind the darkness of your lids, His eyes stare into your skin, looking up, unmoving. 

He’s waiting, you realize. Your hand twitches, before slowly coming up to rake your nails through his hair, a satisfied hum leaves his throat through unopened lips. But his eyes don't close. He expects more from his gaze. His muse. His lover. 

Another hand, at the same pace as its successor, moves under the opened leather jacket, before finding its way under more cloth to the cool feel of his back. He isn’t a corpse, but he lacks so much warmth, you almost worry for him, 

“Keep going.” He's curt, but his voice is soft, as you realize that this is Danny you're in the presence of. Your fingertips are warm, and the palm of your hand even more so, and as your dignity falls into nothing Danny finds himself pleased as you fall to him whims of your own volition. 

For a killer, one who lacks a heart, who lacks every shred of humanity that is expected of a man, he finds himself at the mercy of his instinct. He’s needy, clingy, desperate for your attention. The beast that craves the screams of his victims, a ghost in the night, a monster that thrives off playing with the mind of his victims finds himself at the feet of an unwilling woman whom he can't imagine a life without.

You start to scratch at his back lightly, and his skin raises at the attention, begging for more of you, before flattening your palm to soothe the red flesh. His mind is full of static, and he presses himself into your body even more, the need to crawl into your skin becomes more and more evident as he stares into your body once again, and your anxiety spikes.

He feels how your body reacts to him, fearful, yet pleased. Hesitant, but yearning. You enjoy the attention he gives you, the feeling of knowing how you’d never be rejected by him in any way, shape, or form. Your heart and body fight your mind as you force yourself to remember the blood that stains his hands, the thrill he feels chasing down his prey, his victims, and the subsequent glee as they take their final breaths under a hunting knife as the phone line is cut.

You were never going to be one of them. He assured you that.

You were to be worshiped by him, to have your feet kissed and your body touched with love and safety, to have your needs provided for as you keep him sane by merely allowing him to be near you- to take what he needs from you. 

But he also can't deny the jump of his heart when your voice quivers underneath him, or when you jump as you realize he's in the room much later than the time he entered it, the way you fight the urge to lean into him and his hands hold your face or when they grab at your hips.

He was in love with the way your skin felt against his, searing hot, as your bodies molded together in a way he can only describe as perfection. The way you style your hair to fit your face in the most pleasing manner, how you bite at your lip or cheek when thinking or absentmindedly, the way your fingers would tap against the countertops or the wheel of your car as music plays- either aloud or in your own head. Everything about you screamed at him to worship that part with every part of his being, his newfound, and unknown obsession.

He mouths at your neck while you continue to massage and scratch at his back, playing and pulling at his hair at the same time, His mind races with need as you take in a quick take of air, a broken whimper leaving your throat as he continues to mark up your neck as best as he could, his own hand coming up to your jaw, to hold your figure in place before you squirm as you usually do when in his hands.

Your senses are overwhelmed by him, the way he feels, the way his body looks laid on top of you as a mess of ebony rests just under your chin, his scent filling becoming stronger as he manages to somehow get even closer. You hear the sound of his mouth on your skin, his heavy breathing, the sounds that leave him before he slowly moves his hips into yours- leaving you pawing at his hair and skin as your own hips move to meet his.

He overwhelms you. He leaves you needy and empty, craving more of him as your mind screams to just leave him and run, but those thoughts are only pushed back further and further into your head as the emptiness and need grows more in importance at that moment.

You know he’d never hurt you, even if you asked, because he can’t bring himself to.

It brings you comfort as you fall into him, allowing your heart to open up, and he notices rather quickly.

Your body finally is able to relax, sinking into the bed under his weight, no longer fighting to keep yourself up. Allowing yourself to sigh and move your own hips against his, before you tug at his clothes in a silent beg for more and it leaves Danny feral for your need.

He grins again, wicked and delighted, teeth against your skin as you finally fall into his touch. He’d gladly lay himself bare for you, ready and waiting, watching in delight as dark eyes watch as you finally start to take what you need from him.

His obsession leaves him weak for you, open, and bare.

And it leaves you hungry, and watchful, moving to please the both of you.

It soon grows, and the obsession is a mutual agreement, of blood and kisses, with bared teeth and needy hands, playful and curious as time goes on.

It's an obsession, yes, you’ll admit that later on.

But is that so wrong?

[weskin-time]

Ok so Deathslinger, Bubba, Ghostface and Michael with a survivor who yells “You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid” at them while they’re (the survivor) being chased by them (the killer) if that makes sense

Sorry this took so long!! this is my first time writing for the DBD killers so i hope i do them some justice!!

Stretch for DBD survivor when

DBD Killers x GN!Survior

not beta read

Deathslinger

He just wouldn’t get off your ass the entire match.

At the very beginning he was chasing Dwight before he spotted you at a nearby generator before dropping chase and picking it up with you. Weaving in between trees, ducking behind covers, even hiding in a locker never deterred this cowboy from going after you. You weren’t fully paying attention but you think you’ve heard 3 generators pop already, you were surprised you ran him for this long without getting shot or hit.

You chest hurt from how hard your heart was beating and your legs were starting to feel like lead as you ran around the Rotten Fields trying to loose the tall hulking cowboy in the corn. You weren’t even the obsession, he had so many opportunities to shoot you but it almost seemed like he missed on purpose.

You were getting a little fed up honestly.

Turning your head around to look at him aiming down his gun you yelled out to him, “You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid, cowboy!!”

Now that seemed to catch him off guard. Caleb Quinn let out a horse wheeze of a laugh before white hot pain exploded in your stomach. He shot you.

You grabbed onto the harpoon like metal in your abdomen, trying to struggle against the chain as he wound up the gun to bring you closer. You grunted in pain as the tall cowboy pulled you closer to him. You couldn’t break free before you were inches away from him. Part of you thinks you fucked up by teasing him, but another part of you was relieved the chase would finally end.

You prepared to feel the barbed metal rip out of you and a slash across your chest but none came, instead his large hand came down to grip on the spear, effectively holding you in place close to him. You stared up at the massive man, his glowing white eyes bore into your sole it felt like before he pulled you closer by the metal in your stomach and leaned down to put his face in your own. Whips of grey white hair tickled your face as he looked at you with a shit eating grin on his face. You would have been blushing if all the blood wasn’t leaking out of your abdomen.

“So what if I do?” His voice was a tad raspy, it held a slight irish accent mixed with one of a western cowboy, you didn’t expect him to have a voice like that but you also don’t know what you expected him to sound like.

This was the first time you were this close to the man, and as you took in his features you realized he was a handsome man, large scar and all. You two stared at each other for what felt like a minute before he ripped the barbed spear out of your guts and he smacked you with the butt end of his gun making you fall to the ground.

You don’t know if you fucked up by teasing him but you definitely had a new problem now.

The Cannibal 

You could hear that chainsaw a mile away. You sighed as you got started putting wires together on a generator in Father Campbell’s Chapel. It had been quiet for quiet some time as you almost finished the generator, but you spoke too soon because a bleeding Meg ran past you and you began to hear heavy footsteps follow her up the stairs.

You lost your focus on the generator escaped you as it exploded in your face. Meg was already gone and now you had Bubba on your tail as you ran and jumped out the window. Barely a grunt came out of you as you landed on the ground, a two story fall was nothing but a little ache on your ankles, the Entity worked in weird ways. You turned to your left and ran your way to the killers shack, behind you you could hear the man’s chainsaw rev up.

You knew this killer was from a movie back in your own world before the Entity took you in its hard grasp, you barely remember the franchise of movies due to the Entity but every time you saw Bubba running around the map you had this flash of a memory in your head, where he’s in a radio station being distracted by a woman, her legs spread and his chainsaw running against her inner thigh. He spared her then, and you wondered if you could fluster him and use that tactic against him.

You entered the shack with an idea in your mind, he set off his chainsaw and swung it around, barely missing you as you ducked into the shack before the last swing hit you. You did your best to run him out the other door and before he could get out you slammed the pallet down on top of him. He let out a squealing sound as he tried to recover from the stun. This was all going to plan.

“You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid!” You stood in place on the other side of the pallet, your entire body told you to run but you went against it.

He straightened out his posture for a second, he looked like you just flash banged him, the skinned face on his own covered any reaction you could gauge but you assumed he was a little shocked as he wasn’t revving his chainsaw to knock the pallet into splinters.

A small gasp like sound came from him, his posture looked conflicted on what to do in this situation and you had a voice in the back of your head wondering if you made him uncomfortable. But you doubled down on your words and gave him a wink.

That seemed to knock him out of what ever kind of spell he was in, and he made a loud chocked squeak and grabbed his yellow bloodstained apron with one hand and moved it to cover his already hidden face. You did it. You flustered the man.

He dropped the apron and turned around, he looked back at you and made a sound before leaving the shack.

You watched him as he left, and you don’t think you could admit this to any other survivor by the campfire but that man was very cute and his reaction to a simple little dumb statement made your mind change it’s opinion on him.

Ghostface

You hated the Hospital. The layout was confusing, you could never find a generator, and there were too many spots a killer could hide from view. Certain killers could use that to their advantage, and one killer in particular did.

Ghostface was a mortal enemy of yours. He would always single you out every match no matter if you were the obsession or not, it was kind of your own fault for it if you were being honest. The first time you met him you made a horror movie reference and he’s been hooked on you ever since, now he chases you around every time he sees you make horror movie quips back and forth before he hooks you and leaves you for dead. He made you hurt. He tore through your flesh in a way no other killer did, he left you sore after trials when normally you were patched up and fine. He was ruthless with you

You were working on the generator in the center of the building, it wasn’t safe as it was out in the open but it was the easiest generator to find on the map. You spotted movement out of the corner of your eye, a black shadow dodged behind a door frame and it settled in your mind of who you were as to who you were being hunted by.

You stopped your movements on the generator and stared at the door frame to see a white mask pop out and look back at you. You might have been imagining it but it looked like he gave you a nod, but you still turned around and booked it. Your heart beat fast as he followed you through rooms, he tried to slash you but you vaulted through a window before he could and his knife hit the wall. He was being quiet today, quieter than normal at least.

You ran him into another room and dropped a pallet on him, stunning him for a second as you ran to get away from him.

“Come back sweetheart! I’m not gonna hurt cha’! I’m just going to bash your brains in!” He referenced The Shining yelling after you, there’s the Ghostface you know and despise.

“Oh Shut it Danny! You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid!” You looked over your shoulder to see he gained back the space lost from being stunned.

You felt leather wrap around your arm and yank you back, turning you around and pulling you close to him. His hand left your arm and grabbed at the collar of your shirt, holding you in place unable to escape his hard grasp. Ghostface pulled you so his mask and your face were inches apart, you could hear his heavy breath muffled by his mask.

“You’ve just figured that out huh?” He didn’t give you any time to register his words before manhandling you into the large shower room of the Hospital before placing your stunned ass into a stall. “Stay here. you and i are going to have a little chat when i get done killing your friends.” He curled his fingers into air quotes on the word chat.

“Wha- huh??” You dumbly asked as he began to turn away from you.

“Oh sweetheart you haven’t noticed that you’re my favorite? That you get special treatment? How i make it hurt worse for you and no one else? You’re the only one I care to talk to hun. Now be a good pet and stay right there till i get back.”

Oh. Oh Okay. You stayed put mostly out of fear but another feeling settled deep in your stomach, a feeling you didn’t want to think about.

The Shape

For being a tall wall of a man, Micheal Myers was silent, he was scary. When they say he stalks they could never truly elaborate the pure primal fear this man made someone feel as he silently chased after them. You had found out the hard way why he was called The Shape.

You were trying to unlock a chest, the action easy but time consuming. Jiggling the lock loose always seemed to do the trick, and you had the time and ability to look around to make sure you were safe while doing so. You were safe as far as you know.

A large hand grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you away from the chest as if you were a baby kitten, but the collar of your shirt dug into your throat and made you choke, effectively stunning you for a short second. The killer used this as an opportunity to turn you around and grab you by the throat. You were face to face with a white empty eyed mask, the brown hair glued onto the old rubber seemed to be wearing away with age. His massive hand was around your throat, his fingers crushing your wind pipe as he lifted you into the air. Pain shot down from your jaw to your shoulders as it felt like your head was going to be ripped off. Blood couldn’t make its way to your head with his vise grip making your vision blur and begin to turn black on the edges. You struggled against his grasp, your hands trying to hold yourself up to relieve the pressure on your neck, your foot came to kick his stomach but he grip tightened and you choked and missed him.

You felt loopy as your head began to swim, you looked into the eye holes of his mask and it must have been the lack of oxygen and blood to your head but part of you liked this. Some part of you was enjoying this. This man was strong enough to hold you’re entire body weight up with just one arm as you wiggled and struggled in his grasp.

“Ohhh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.” you wheezed out. Your vision started to turn fully black and your lungs began to scream at you.

Your body was jolted as if you’ve been shocked as you harshly and suddenly landed on the hard ground, you gasped and gagged for air, tears now running down your face as you coughed and cried. Your eyes throbbed as the blood began to rush back into your head, your throat burned and your shoulders ached.

You looked up to see Micheal Myers standing stiff as always looming over you. He stared down at you and tilted his head to the side as if he was a confused dog. The empty black eye holes of the mask bore into your recovering body like a cougar stalking its prey. He had dropped you. Why? Did you startle him by talking to him? Did you fluster him? you were right?? Was he going to kill you?

A generator popped in the distance and he straightened up his head. He looked down at you one last time before he turned around and began to head in the direction of the popped generator. You held your throat as you continued to gasp as you watched him walk away. He made it about a ways off before you stopped and turned back to you. You must have still been loopy from the choking because you weakly lifted up a meek thumbs up and he turned back around to find you the other survivors.

What. Was that a good thing?

[d34dg1rl5]

Chase

In the heart-pounding realm of the Entity, where every moment is fraught with danger and fear, (Y/N) found themselves trapped in a nightmarish chase with Ghostface, the embodiment of terror itself. But what made this chase all the more complicated was (Y/N)'s conflicting emotions—they had a crush on Ghostface, despite the imminent threat to their life.

It began like any other match, with (Y/N) finding themselves transported to the eerie realm known as the MacMillan Estate. The fog was thick, obscuring vision, and the sound of a heartbeat thudded ominously in their ears. They knew they were not alone.

As they cautiously moved through the desolate landscape, trying to evade the killer's gaze, they couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them. And indeed, they were right. Ghostface, with his iconic mask and chilling presence, was stalking them, his knife glinting in the moonlight.

But strangely, amidst the fear, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement whenever Ghostface drew near. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of the chase or the forbidden allure of danger, but (Y/N)'s heart raced for reasons beyond mere survival.

As the chase intensified, with (Y/N) narrowly dodging Ghostface's swings and vaulting over obstacles, they found themselves drawn deeper into the twisted game of cat and mouse. But with each close encounter, (Y/N) couldn't ignore the undeniable chemistry between them and Ghostface, even amidst the terror.

Despite their feelings, (Y/N) knew they had to survive. They had to escape this relentless pursuer. With every ounce of strength and cunning they possessed, they devised a plan. They led Ghostface on a wild chase through the Estate, ducking and weaving through the labyrinthine structures, until finally, they found themselves at the exit gates.

But just as victory seemed within reach, Ghostface appeared once more, blocking their path. For a moment, (Y/N) froze, torn between fear and desire. But then, with a surge of determination, they made their move.

With a swift and daring maneuver, (Y/N) managed to outmaneuver Ghostface, slipping past him and through the open gate to freedom. As they sprinted into the darkness, heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through their veins, they couldn't help but steal a glance back at Ghostface.

And in that moment, amidst the chaos and danger, (Y/N) saw something unexpected in Ghostface's eyes—perhaps a hint of admiration, or even something more. But there was no time to dwell on it, as they disappeared into the night, leaving behind the enigmatic killer they couldn't help but be drawn to.

A/N: Hello everyone! I tried something different today - thats right, i used a gender neutral reader instead of a female one. I hope yall like it and let me know if yall want more of gender neutral reader!

[gatorbites-imagines]

I know you're opening this for bbg ricky here but.. Im just gonna ask a headcannon about frank morrison (the legion) and danny "jed olsen" Johnson (Ghostface) with a survivor male s/o whos tall as fuck and strong (stronger than them,and basically always win against them) and how would they react to this? (I know frank is fuming lol)

- 🥚 anon

Frank Morrison and Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson

Headcanons

Frank

-          You are right in assuming Frank would be fuming, to the point where he starts throwing and kicking things after trials with you. This was before the two of you started dating, and as you two finally found one another and made it official, he became less rageful about it.

-          Hes still extremely salty that you always win against him, especially if you were to pick him up and throw him over your shoulder when he’s trying to hunt other survivors.

-          You end up holding him out Infront of you under the armpits like when you dangle a cat, just watching as he seethes and starts kicking to be let down because you’re so tall.

-          Lean down and kiss his mask when he’s starting to see red, it always stops him in his tracks, and it takes him a bit to comprehend what you just did.

-          Frank both loves and hates how tall and strong you are, I mean you can lift him and carry him around no issue, but he always has to ask you to lean down for a kiss. In the beginning he tried to pull you down with force, but it didn’t work because of your strength.

-          Frank is a sore loser, he’s always brooding and pouting after trials with you because he’s never won a single one. The rest of the legion can always tell if it’s been a trial with you in it because Frank is moody about losing, but is also happy to have spent time with you.

 Danny

-          Danny would have been quite annoyed in the beginning because he couldn’t win against you no matter what he did, and the one time he got you down he couldn’t pick you up because of your bulk and height.

-          You never let him live this down after you start dating, even though he denies it ever happened you both know it did. You make it up by carrying him around when he wants too, and hell use this to his advantage because he can easily kiss you when in your arms.

-          I think as time passes, he becomes less annoyed when in trials with you, especially after you start dating. He will still go after the other survivors, even use it as a way for the two of you to go on a “date”.

-          Makes you lift him or even have him sit on your shoulders so he can take better pictures. He also has a million pictures of you, he thinks he’s kept it a secret but you definingly know he has them.

-          Stands on his tippy toes to try and kiss you because he doesn’t want to ask, you always decide to pity him and lean down to kiss him. He throws his arms around your shoulders so he gets lifted off the ground when you stand up.

[guttedwhxre]

how they'd get rid of you, pt. 2 - multiple slashers

UNDER THE CUT: jed olsen, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, asa emory, amanda young

tw: reader death, violence, torture ment

author's note: since people seemed so fond of the first one, here's another for you! lmk if there's anyone you guys would want to see in particular - or if you wanted an 'are they sorry' for these guys too! enjoy <33 oh and here's the og post <3

JED would probably just kill you. i’m sorry, sweet thing, but you know way too much - and unlike billy and stu he’s unwilling to take the risk of you singing to the authorities. no doubt he’s taken careful months of planning to infiltrate whatever town he’s taken to, and him tiring of you, even dating you in the first place, was an unexpected wrench in his plans. your death, like all other things, would be planned out meticulously, and he of course would make it look like an unfortunate accident after. he takes his usual souvenir photos to commemorate your time together, but he couldn’t possibly take the risk of your murder being linked to his other work! no, too much of a coincidence - better safe than sorry. jed would only take these measures if you ever became a danger to his operations, whether he came to distrust you or you became too skittish. you need to be all in - and if you’re not, well, jed could always use the practice. 

with BO, it honestly depends. piss him off enough and he’ll hand you over to his brother to become a nice new figure for the town, or in luckier circumstances he’ll just tell you to fuck off. not without threatening you of course, promising to find you if ambrose ever becomes compromised…if you weren’t that lucky, then first bo will drug your dinner, making sure you fall asleep before hoisting you downstairs to vinny’s studio, handing you over. the man will never complain about having new material - though he’s a little resigned at the thought of it being you. he goes through the motions, taking care to make you as lovely as you were in life now in death. you’d be placed at the top of the stairs in the museum of wax, waving down to all who walked through. bo would only do either of these things if you proved to be useless, sitting around all day instead of carrying your weight. there’s always things to be done in ambrose, things to be cleaned, sorted, tuned, and upkept. if you are to be unable to do anything, without good reason? well, sorry to say it but bo won’t tolerate it - and he’d already have given you several chances to turn it around. whenever he happens by your statue, he gives it a kiss, and keeps moving on. 

VINCENT, firstly it’d take a lot to get him here at all! so if you managed to push his buttons that hard, he wouldn’t even consider turning you to wax. if you’ve been so intolerant of him, of his brothers, so whiny and refuse to help in even the slightest way, vincent will kill you. brutally. this man has a lot of patience, he has to in his line of work, and if you wear him out not only are you probably a huge asshole, you provide nothing. intimacy aside, if you won’t help out, what good are you for his family? for him? it’ll seem like it comes from nowhere, but vincent has already been enduring you for a while - and he’ll endure nothing else. he’ll chase you into the basement, thundering behind you as he brandishes his scissors. when he corners you, gone is the vinny you knew and loved, his face darkened, shoulders heaving as he beats you to the ground, finally severing the cord of your life with a crunching snap of his scissors around your neck. better luck next time! 

ASA is a cold-hearted bitch and could honestly tire of you at any time. doesn’t matter how much he’s come to be sentimental over you, one wrong twitch of your brow and you’d be dying in the worst ways you can imagine. sure, he’s patient but he’s flippant - not concerned with much else besides being amused further, strengthening his collections, and his dogs. if you’re a pet of his you have higher standing in his eyes, but that doesn’t mean you’re not immune to his every whim. and he likes to remind you of that, often. there’s not much to do to prevent or influence this possibly happening - it’s simply luck. 

bonus! AMANDA would have to see if you became unworthy of life. ungrateful of her and your opportunities, so much of her decision would come from months, years of observation. you’re someone who means a lot to her, and she couldn’t just toss you out on a whim - unless kramer told her to, then well, sorry again darling but you’d be throughouhly fucked. assuming that’s not the case, amanda would take stock of your actions, your words, mannerisms, everything, and make a choice. you’d awaken in a trap made especially for you, and we all know amanda has a habit of rigging them to fail. she’d give you a sliver of a chance to make it - but if you fuck it up well, that just proves her point. you weren’t grateful for your lives together after all.

xoxo, babe 💋

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

Smutty Valentines: Day Twelve

Day twelve: Makeup Sex

Dbd! Ghostface x reader

Fem! Reader

Warnings: slight angst in the beginning, pre fog Jed Olsen, late 80s to early 90s Florida Era setting, reader has suspicions of him being the Roseville killer, mentions of cheating (not actually cheating), readers job is a dj while going through college. Piv sex, kinda toxic relationship, unprotected sex

Lying on your shared bed, you listened to the newest mix tape you made during your off time as a freelance dj. The upbeat sounds of the latest Florida Break mix did nothing to help you through how upset you were at your boyfriend.

You love your boyfriend Jed but lately he's been ditching dates with you, claiming that his newspaper job is to blame. What Jed didn't realize was that you didn't see his car parked at his job when he claimed he was at work the other day.

Thoughts flooded your mind, unsure if it was the florida heat affecting you or your nerves running into overdrive. Between the news spreading like wildfire about the Roseville killer and your own concerns about the state of your relationship, you're feeling a bit down moodwise.

The front door to your shared apartment moved slightly as the front door was unlocked. Jed looked rather exhausted as he drops his work folders onto the small table before grabbing him some water to drink. Sliding into the covers, you hoped he thinks you fell asleep while listening to music.

You didn't want to continue the argument that the both of you had before he went to work this morning and you went to class. As much as you love Jed, you also know that he can be hard to love and be with. He's an egotistical asshole, occasionally being the man you fell in love with.

"Doll, I know you're awake, you're shitty at luing."

You feel him enter the bed next to you. His left hand gently caresses your soft cheek while his right arm pulled your body closer to his. Giving up the facade, you opened your eyes to see his tired ones.

"I'm sorry that I have been a shitty boyfriend to you. The whole Roseville killer is keeping me tied at the office."

His lips kissed down the sensitive flesh of your neck as you let out a soft moan for him. Although you didn't believe his beautiful lies, you couldn't help but to melt to his warm touch. Your hands ran through his dark locks as he kissed down your jawline, towards your neck.

It was as if you were a fly trapped in Jed's web of lies and deceit. You know it's wrong but it gives you a thrill that no drug or alchohol can ever satisfy. His hands were quick with undressing you, his calloused hands ghosted over your soft skin.

The haziness of the lust building from Jed's touch trumped any common sense thoughts about ending the relationship. Your hands instinctively started stripping his clothes as he left hickies from your neck down to your breasts.

You were lost in your lust to noticed that the both of you were nude. Jed teased your slit with the tip of his cock before he entered you. A loud groan left your lips as you felt his member stretched your walls. After the amount of times the both of you had fucked, you still loved how he can still stretched your walls deliciously.

His thrusts picked up from somewhat slow and sensual to borderline animalistic as he used the sounds you make to thrust faster. His soft groans filled your ears as his hands moved your legs up, putting then around his shoulders. The new position made him hit your gspot immediately.

The familiar coil of arousal bubbles up deep inside you as the sounds of both of your moans filled the humid room. His deep breaths against you sweat claded skin, causing goosebumps to form on your arms.

Between the way Jed pistons himself into you and the sounds of pleasure filling your ears, you came around his cock. He kept on thrusting animalistically, chasing his own climax as he feels your over stimulated form shake underneath him.He came inside you shortly afterwards, collapsing over your body.

"Do you forgive me, doll?"

You noded slightly in-between heavy breaths. You relaxed your body as he pulled out of you, letting your legs stretch back onto your shared bed. Just like the last time the both of you had makeup sex, you accepted Jed's apology- cementing yourself into the same cycle you both loved and loathed.

[anintroverteddarling]

Have some DBD Ghostface doodles because he's da boi

[hybristophile-bitch]

Aaaaaaahhh finalmente consegui terminar essa imagem 😭😭 linda linda linda amo amo você Danny Johnson amo nosso Ghostface 🤤

[magicwithered]

God I can’t get the thought of your sleaze ball best friend Danny Johnson coming to visit you after years of no contact. He comes to your little apartment, apology on his lips, puppy dog eyes and wanting to remember the good times. You know? When the two of you were kids and watching horror movies together. (He loved how scared you got, even back then.)

He wants to get back in touch. “Being a reporter for the Ghostface killer can be exhausting, you know,” he says, something secretive about his smile. It doesn’t matter, though, you know Danny. You’ve trusted Danny your whole life, you’d know if anything was off.

He pops in his favorite, your least favorite, horror movie. You hide from it, he laughs and calls you cute. He laughs and watches as you cry. “Hey,” he leans over you, pulling the blanket you’ve got trapped under white knuckles, “don’t worry about the scary parts. I’ll keep you safe. It’s just you and me, right?” His fingers are on your jaw. You nod.

Danny loves it when a plan comes through.