#the shape x reader

[chubbyreaderchan]

Slasher: *stabs y/n in the back*

Y/n: *doesn't flinch, but rubs the side where stabbed and looks around confused* That's not good.

Slasher: *cocks head in confusion*

Y/n: Sweetie, honestly I am chronically ill. I am in pain constantly. This is nothing.

Slasher: *keeps staring, confused*

[5eraphim]

Okay so this has been stuck in my head for WEEKS and I finally decided to stop bein scared and ask you to write about it lol

So as a DBD player, I got to thinking that it would be kinda cool if survivors could fight the killer even if it was just once per round and then this scenario popped into my head.

How would Killer react to Survivor!Reader biting them as a defense/distraction/etc? My favs are The Shape, The Executioner, and The Mastermind! Headcannons would be amazing but if you could maybe branch out to make one a one-shot kinda deal? Maybe NSFW if you feel spicy?

P.S your writing and fics LITERALLY give me life YOU’RE SO GOOD 😭🧡

My deepest apologies for how long this has been rotting in my inbox, I thought this prompt was a lot of fun, and again, I'm sorry it took forever for me to get around to answering this. Hope you enjoy all the same!

Characters: Michael Meyers, Albert Wesker, Pyramid Head (Dead By Daylight)

Rating: R (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE!!)

Content Warnings: Yandere, smut, noncon, stalking, choking, violence, sacrificed to the entity, predator/prey dynamics, obsession, sadism and masochism, reader is kept gender neutral

Word Count: 1.6k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

The Shape

It's almost too predictable for a killer like Michael Myers to wind up in a situation like this. As the survivor he brought with him into the entity's realm made physical payback, her signature, Micheal can't help but attract the "feisty" type.

A man hiding behind a mask, Michael competes with fierce determination and an almost primal compulsion to hunt, stalk, and slaughter like no other. Of the three, Myers would be the most likely to anticipate physical retribution from a survivor, according to him, all part of the hunt. 

Myers prefers to remain hidden by shadows as long as possible, awaiting his perfect opportunity to go in for a decisive kill. But remaining hidden in the dark is a luxury you don't have at your disposal on account of being Myer's obsession.

You didn't want it to come to this. Even before the match started, you prayed to fight any killer, but Myers, your disappointment only grew as you realized minutes later that you were his obsession.

The idea of fighting back physically was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you knew you only had one chance of pulling this off, and if you missed, your fate would be sealed. You usually weren't one to opt for such a risky strategy, but you were too blinded by your fear of Myers. You would do anything to get away.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could feel Myers' eyes locked in on you, no doubt following and trailing you from behind. The paranoia was torture, but you forced yourself to stay strong and ignore Myers, to focus solely on supporting your team. 

When Myers inevitably tracked you down and caught you after getting distracted by something else, you had so much pent-up nervous aggression that you couldn't hold back your body's instinct to fight back.

Fear overtook any lingering traces of rationality as you struggled blindly against Myers, but you had just enough determination reserved to take aim and fire a single punch, aiming for his head, landing against the cheek of the mask; it was just enough to disorient him long enough for you to wriggle free.

Despite the offense, Myers didn't think you had it in you to fight back like that. It excited him! As though you were holding back on him before, and now you were starting to fight back like you really meant it!

After enduring the pressure of being his obsession and succumbing to the fear of it all, you little humanity left to hold onto, almost nothing but your primal fight or flight instincts; it was truly a beautiful sight for him to behold.

The next time he cornered you, Myers decided he ought to follow your lead, only instead of going for your head, he would go for your throat, not with the knife, but with his hand.

And for just a moment, he'd keep you there. Only needing one hand around your throat to keep your entire body pinned into place on the wall behind you. Wood planks made contact with your back at odd angles, the dull pain radiating up and down your spine as you were face to face with Myers, close enough to hear his breathing behind the mask while he observed your face- knowing you believed he was seconds away from slitting your throat. 

Likely, as Myers holds you in such a compromising position, he takes out all his own pent-up frustrations on you. Leaving bitemarks all over your neck and shoulders while he quickly shreds the clothes from your body.

Just as you gave into primal fight-or-flight instincts, he was giving into his own primal urges. He'd won the hunt, and now it was time to let his libido take charge. Half-undressed, he ruts against you, and you can hear his heartbeat racing. Maybe even feel his body warming as his blood flows rapidly, but he remains as silent as a corpse.

After having his fun, Myers will take great pleasure in sacrificing you to the entity. Even if he couldn't take down everyone on your team before this, the opportunity to sacrifice his obsession in such a thrilling bloodbath overshadowed any regular trial as a ruthless killer. 

The Mastermind

It wouldn't take more than an instance of fighting back physically against him for Wesker to decide to hunt you down right away. He would've never suspected another survivor would be bold enough to try something like this on him. Wesker wants to know what makes you think you're strong enough to try something like this.

His reaction would be determined primarily by what point in the trial you try this.

Albert might think it's insufficient enough to ignore if it's early or if he's doing well.

But given how infamous of a hothead he can be, more often than not, any time you try this, expect to be met with hostility.

Wants to see you go from physically resistant to begging him for mercy. On the outside, he pretends to see brats like you as nothing but a petty annoyance to be dealt with, but on the inside, he absolutely loves doing this; keeping the weak in check is how he stays strong.

Wesker doesn't exactly get any legitimate pleasure from being hurt, but he will tap into the pain when fighting back. He does this partly out of loyalty and obligation to the entity but equally out of a petty vengeance to hurt you back twice as hard as you hurt him.

Wesker waits patiently before fighting back, taking care of those annoying teammates first to give you his undivided attention. As well as strategically lying in wait after the confrontation before striking while your guard is down. 

The very first thing Wesker does after tracking you down is wounding you exactly where you hurt him, though he's sure not to let you go until he's drawn blood.

Don't expect him to show you any mercy from here. Might go as far as pushing you down, wiping his shoes against your back as you writhe below, trying to squirm out from under his boot.

It's good foreplay for him, seeing the foolish survivor who dared to fight back, bleeding and barely alive. He won't fuck you in the muck for his own sake, of course. Wesker will push you up against a wall face first while he is taking you from behind.

If he's feeling especially good after sweeping a trial, he might leave you with just enough life to hold onto while you crawl to the hatch. More likely, you won't live long after such a brutal session. But even if you don't die, Wesker will be sure to leave you so beaten and tormented you'll regret trying to fight him like that and won't want to try again. Even if Wesker secretly hopes you will.

The Executioner

While the others welcome the resistance, even if only to crush it, Pyramid Head would likely resent you for trying to physically challenge the killer and disrupt the natural order of things. It was an injustice, and it was imperative to punish you for this.

Imagine playing as a "Gen-Jockey" survivor, the kind of teammate who provides the bare minimum to the rest of the team, putting your own survival above the lives of your teammates, the type of survivor Pyramid Head hated the most. A coward.

All that to say, it was an extreme shock after he cornered you and felt your teeth sinking into the exposed flesh above his glove. 

While you were combative and aggressive now, Pyramid Head knew you couldn't keep this up forever. You were, to him, nothing but a coward deep down. Even if you wanted to pretend like you had any real fight of your own, it wouldn't be long before you surrendered to your own exhaustion. Perhaps he was even doing this as his way of offering you a "fair shot" to find your way out before he got his hands on you. Like he would ever let that happen.

Since you tried to bite him earlier, he'd punish you by fucking you from behind, bent over a broken desk crushing your face against the hardwood surface. He was an inescapable force while you were powerless to stop any of this from below.

Would only give into his beastial nature to hurt and fuck you if he's already managed to kill the rest of your team. It's not his style to slaughter his obsession until he's taken care of the others, and he doesn't want to let anyone pass by without judgment.

If he doesn't get this opportunity during the trial, Pyramid Head will fantasize about killing you off last while staying buried inside you, feeling your pathetic body crumbling and going limp beneath him.

Paradoxical feelings of sadism and protectiveness for you as Pyramid Head is obsessed with being the only one alloweed to hurt you, judge your soul, or torture you. But all this cruelty is undermined by his motivation to keep you from getting hurt by others.

He is most likely to let you live after making love because the instant gratification of an orgasm, as well as the satisfaction of punishing you himself, will keep him from sending you up to the entity. 

Consider this Pyramid Head's very niche kind of post-nut clarity.

[rootsofdread]

request open *twirls hair kicking my feet giggling* could i request maybe ghostface and myers with a survivor who's also stealthy? like maybe they caught a glimpse of them but the moment they moved a little closer trying to get a jump the survivor is just POOF and gone

Michael Myers / The Shape:

Michael had first seen you working on a generator all the way across the trialgrounds from himself. He figured you'd be busy enough that you wouldn't even notice him and he'd be able to grab you right off of it. All seemed to be going according to plan until he got there, and...there was no trace of you anywhere. It was like you had never even been there in the first place. But he knew he saw you. It'd be safe to say he'd never been so confused before.

He decided right then and there that he had to catch you. He knew wouldn't be able to sleep until he got to you at least once. He didn't find you that trial, and...he still can never get his hands on you during trials. He's always willing to throw an entire trial just to go after you, though. The second he realizes you're lurking around, he drops everything to track you down.

He always swears you're following him around. He can never see you, and you'll never give him a straight answer, but...he knows you're there. He doesn't much enjoy swapping roles. You're making this much harder than it needs to be...but, truthfully, he enjoys the challenge. He finds you fun, in a weird way.

Danny Johnson / The Ghostface:

Danny first met you when he saw you weaving through a patch of trees at the edge of the trialgrounds. He'd been tracking you for most of the trial, and now you were all alone...he waited until you ducked behind a wall. He walked up, and lunged behind the corner, swinging for you. You can probably imagine his surprise when you were suddenly nowhere to be found. There was nowhere you could've gone. How in the hell...

Finding you slowly became more and more like a game to him. At first it was frustrating, but it started being fun for him after a while. Every trial he has with you, he gets excited, hoping this would finally be the time he catches you. He still hasn't, but he looks forward to every trial with you.

If you're still in the immediate area, you'll often hear Danny giggling to himself while he's looking for you, or him playfully calling out your name. He doesn't necessarily think doing either will help his chances, he just likes to have fun, especially around and with you.

[krypticcafe]

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

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

rating: teen

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

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

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

Michael

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

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

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

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

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

All in all, mission success.

Danny

"Like how slow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pyra

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bubba

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frank

"You're joking, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

[diejager]

OMG FINALLY!! *muach muach* oh my actually I'm a bit nervous and excited now lolol. Uhm—well since your request is open can I have Pyra head and Michael Myers (separately) chasing survivor!reader in trial but they just ignore the other survivors, solely chasing reader till the end of game. Something dark and lustful lingers around those two killers and you just don't know why! By the end of the game, the other survivors manage to escape to the campfire safely, however reader got stuck alone with the killer. When they finally catch you, oh shall you know all your hopes may shatter to pieces. You think this is the end, in the hands of ruthless killer chosen by Entity. But why their face (in pyra head's case it's his helmet) getting closer to your face and what make it's more confusing something comes out of that mask (i.e. a long tendril similar to tongue). Breath kink but instead of hand choking or strangulation, you choked on their tongue 👅

Feel free to ignore this if you still don't open req for dbd fandom

☀️

You are feeding me ambrosia with this sunnie!!! I have a weak spot for both of them, but-but- the Unknown??? Any thoughts????

Cw: DARKFIC?(it’s dbd, what do you expect??), DUB-CON/NON-CON, predator/prey, implied death, obsessive behaviour, choking?, super long tongue??, size kink/difference, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.5k

You were… unlucky. The Entity seemed to rejoiced in your pain more than any other survivor, feeding on your dashed hope for an escape from the perpetual cycle death and sacrifice, the painful sting on being slashed, the horrifying fate of being killed by the killer’s weapon of choice or the terrifying agony of being hooked. It was a painful affair, being the subject of her perverse protection, locked away in her universe to feed and be fed, blood for blood —quid pro quo.

But at times, your moments in her dark world was warm and charming like the people who gathered at the campfire, sharing their skills and abilities to keep the others alive throughout the…trials. The small moments stolen within the fog to keep yourself up and going, and happy, little smiles and bubbly laughs. It made trials easier, to know that the people who were screaming and working had your back in and out of them, to know what they would do made working in teams better and reassuring. 

And yet- and yet it was all for nought, the killer had eyes for you only, stalking and following you with his arm raised despite the others coming between you two to stop him from maiming you. Unfortunately, The Shape - Micheal Myers - in all his ghostly glory and dirty suit, was a creature of obsession, of predatory possession that gave him a one track mind, tunnelling the person who he chose as his obsession; and you happened to be his choice of madness these last round, even when Laurie was with you. 

There were some pros and cons with his constant stalking, the quiet steps echoing not so far behind you while they worked on the generators, unbothered and safe fro Myers, but you were stuck kitting him, running away from him by jumping over windows and dropping palettes wherever you could stun him to give you just a few more seconds of distance. He grew so, so close on multiple occasions, you felt his breath and his dark and imposing figure behind you, but he never once struck you down with his big knife. 

It wasn’t so bad as long as he didn’t hit you, letting you run around and avoid the other three until they finished all five generators and opened the gates, the bell ringing loudly over your head, and even then, he ignored everyone for you. He, somehow, managed to corner you, to far from both gates and your teammates who you - in a desperate plea for a win - had yelled out to leave and let you find the hatch or run to a gate if things got didn’t worsen. Which had left you alone, ears ringing and head beating against your cage, cornered and afraid of the giant who stared you down with a red gleam in the dark pits of his eyes.

Every step he took backed you up further against the rugged wall of a house - his childhood home - and pressed himself against you, the rough texture of his suit irritating your skin as he dropped the knife to touch you, running over his course fingers down your shoulders. Myers was scarily touchy, pads digging into the fat of your hips, groaning and grunting as he ground against you, drinking in your whimpers and hisses, fists hitting his chest without any result. Was it so surprising? He was a monster, a devil’s spawn, who had you in hands, a uselessly struggling victim that was too weak to stop him. 

His game of cat and mouse came to an end, where you forgot what you were initially doing, choking around his thick fingers, the filthy taste hitting you harshly as his jabs. He pressed his fingers down the back of your throat, panting loudly at your gags and rutting his fattening cock on your navel. You shuddered at the feel of it, the thick bulge threatening to pop a button off his jumpsuit, and you feared, you were terrified at your wandering thoughts, the implication of it when faced with a beast like Myers. 

Ding

Then the final call rang, a long and echoing sound that called the end of the trial. It was quiet for a few seconds, and all you felt was pain, agony ripping through you as The Entity swallowed you up with her many arms. The last thing you saw was Myers bulge, pushed to your bloodied lips and filling your dying nose with a thick and heady musk, a metallic and dusty smell that would linger on your tongue. 

You had hoped that she would give you a second, let you bask in the worry and affection the other survivors gave you, her whispers summoning you elsewhere in a drowning cloud of black fog and sent into your next match, placed somewhere in Midwich Elementary School. The many winding halls and rusted metal worked to confuse the survivors and killers alike, leaving only a selected few who were familiar with this realm. You crossed path with James a few times, but you knew he wouldn’t have given an offering for this, it was a sore memory for him, a reminder of his sins and regrets. So that left a single open left: Pyramid Head, the wandering executioner in the halls of Midwich, sentient and brutal in his ways.

He was a monster everyone feared, something created from the mind of a tortured man rather than a human turned monster, he was born a nightmare and would perish as one. That’s why you hid whenever you heard the telltale sound of his rusted great sword drag across the floor, knowing he had chosen you as his obsession and was actively turning a blind eye to the other survivors. You heard a few screams here and there, but he hadn’t downed anyone, seemingly to prefer leaving them half dead and limping to the next generator or survivor to heal.

You were doing well, working with Jane on the third machine, smiling to each other and sending encouraging glances while you looked over your shoulders from time to time, but your luck had run out. Pyramid Head stumbled your way, his head bobbing over the thick cords of his shoulders and chest, sinewy muscles bulging with every move. You both ran, Jane up the stairs and you down the hall, and he followed you. It was a familiar feeling, being the chased obsession of a killer, singled out by him to be the victim of his choosing.

Unfortunately, The Executioner never truly relished in the hunt, prowling fast and hard, ready to kill whoever he crossed, yet, strangely, he hadn’t raised his great sword, chasing you down a hall and into a dead end. You were fucked. Oh so terribly fucked if your assumptions were right. You turned to face Pyramid Head, fearfully glaring at him, eyes scouring the open space around him for a small point to slip away. You felt your small star of hope extinguish when he suddenly appeared before you, moving faster than he usually would, blocking your way with his body. 

He was hard and warm under your palms, his laboured breathing resting on your shoulder in his dazed wandering, his ripped and bloody and filthy arms brushing against yours and feeling you up. You closed your eyes in terror, trying your best to snuff out your thoughts and the feeling of his touches, his fingers pinching and kneading the skin of your hips and thighs, slipping behind to occasionally feel your ass bend under his strong hands. You whimpered, raking your nails down his arms, trying and failing to stop him from going forward with his wants, turning your head away from him. 

It seemed like he didn’t like that, forcing a gasp out of you when a wet appendage lapped at your cheek, leaving a slimy trail of drool until you reacted to him, gaping and hissing at him; and he took your shock and disgust to his advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You retched, throat closing around his tongue, thrusting slowly to the back of your throat and up to spread over your palate. He lathered your mouth in his drool, willing your smaller and less nimble tongue to push at him, choking down any cries or gags from the sheer disgust that filled your guts (despite the small spike of arousal in your guts). 

You wanted to scream about your situation, this fucked up situation you keep finding yourself with monsters like The Shape and The Executioner. Why you? Why you out of everyone else? You weren’t as significant or strong and determined as other survivors, so it confused and worried you, if they would force themselves onto you again and again until they either broke you or moved onto another poor survivor. But perhaps- just perhaps you could make something of it, seeing the thick pole that poked at your stomach, poking from under his loose loincloth and wetting it with a dark spot at the tip.

You loathed The Entity and her plans. 

[entity-xxx]

Your Boogeyman - The Shape (DBD) x fem!Reader

An affectionate fic involving Michael and a very bloodied reader.

WARNING! This fic is very graphic and violent, if you’re looking for something gentle and fluffy this one isn’t for you! Discretion advised. (Sadism & Masochism, Blood, Knife play)

It was a foggy, damp night at Coldwind Farm. You were repairing a generator alone, constantly glancing over your shoulders, wondering who was hunting you this time. You had yet to hear your heartbeat in your ears, leaving you even more anxious as to who the killer was. In the distance, you heard a piercing scream, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You stopped repairing the generator, creeping around the corner, looking in the direction the scream came from. You looked around, and seeing no other survivors, you took it upon yourself to help. Running quickly and quietly through the grass, you located the source of the scream to have came from none other than the infamous basement. You crept into the shack, the floorboards creaking no matter how lightly you stepped. You cringed in fear of giving yourself away. Quickly, you made your way down the stairs, hearing groaning and weeping coming from the basement. You made it to the concrete floor, stepping in what appeared to be a puddle of blood. You looked up, finding Nea strung up on a hook. You quickly made your way over, grabbing her legs and hoisting her off the hook. She collapsed to the floor, gripping her wound and sobbing. “Come on, let’s get you out of here! Before it makes it’s way back..” you stated, using “IT” in reference to the killer you had yet to identify. She looked up at you and nodded. You reached your hand out, taking hers and helping her up. You made your way around the corner to assist her up the stairs.

You followed her up the stairs, watching her stumble her way up. You hadn’t heard a sound, thinking the two of you were safe, for a moment. She looked back at you after reaching the top, her eyes turning wide before she screamed your name, pointing behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you looked over your shoulder. The Shape stepped forward from the dark corner of the basement, he was waiting for you there the whole time. His white mask lit with stripes from the light beaming through the boards of the ceiling above. His blue eyes glistened in the low light, it felt like they were looking straight into your soul. You began to scramble up the stairs, and before you got very far he jolted forward, grasping your ankle with a firm grip. You fell on all fours, hitting your jaw against one of the steps. The dirty iron taste of blood began to fill your mouth. You gripped the boards above you. “RUN!!” You screamed as loud as you could to Nea. She vanished into the fog, limping away. The Shape drug you down the stairs, flipping you over on your back. You hit the base of your skull on a few steps on the way down, crying out in pain. Tears began to well in your eyes from the fear, as your adrenaline was so high you couldn’t feel the pain. You began to flail, desperate to get away from his grip. To no avail, your attempt was nothing to him. He stepped back, waiting for you to stop flailing. At the perfectly timed moment, he lunged forward and grasped you by the throat. You let out a choking yelp, your hands meeting his underneath your jaw. Blood seeped from the corners of your mouth, you sprayed some from your mouth as you struggled for a breath. His mask was then peppered with your warm blood. He watched you squirm for a moment before turning around and carrying you further into the basement, back into the far corner. He tossed you onto the floor. You fell back into your elbows and rear, shuffling as far back into the corner as you could get. You leaned over, still touching your throat. It felt like his hands were still there. You struggled for breath, not yet looking up at him to see his next move. He stood there, watching you recover, he gripped his knife harder. You looked up at him, shaking in fear. He tilted his head at you, just staring. You swallowed, wiping the corners of your mouth on your sleeve. He took a step forward, which made you jolt in fear. You screamed as he got closer, already backed into the corner as far as you could get. He reached forward, grabbing you by the ankles again and dragging you towards him. You struggled before him, so he bared his knife at you. Your eyes widened and you froze, nearly able to see your own reflection in it. The blood on it had yet to dry. You shuddered. Now he stood over you, holding his knife. “If killing me is what you want, then get it over with already!” You pleaded. He just stood there, breathing deeply beneath his mask. He crouched down, trying to get eye level with you. His blue eyes became visible. He looked so calm. He slowly began to raise the knife, causing your heart rate to increase instantly, you closed your eyes, waiting for impact.

You felt the back of his cold blade caress your jawline. Your eyes fluttered open, still scared and full of tears. He gazed at you, tilting his head as he examined your features. You shivered, your jaw chattering in fear. Your eyes darted back and forth from his knife which traced your jaw, and his own eyes. You heard footsteps coming down the stairs, they were slow, and cautious. You wanted to scream ‘run away!’ and warn the soon-to-be victim, but you were frozen in confusion and fear. Peering around the corner you saw Jake, who was trying to come to your rescue. The Shape looked over his shoulder, sensing a presence behind him. He stood up vehemently, turning around to pursue Jake. Jake gasped and stumbled backwards. He was out of your sight now, but you heard his footsteps rushing up the stairs. Around the corner, The Shape disappeared. The silence was deafening. You slowly came to. Your breathing began to pick up, your hands slapped the cold concrete as you pushed yourself up. Your legs wobbled as you stood, causing you to have to crawl out of the basement on your hands and knees. You heard screams in the distance, souls crying out in pain. Their screams seemed to echo infinitely. You looked around in the cold night, creeping towards the direction of weeping. You found Jake now hooked, blood seeping through his shirt, dripping from his shoes. He looked up at you as you approached him to remove him from the hook. His eyes fluttered and closed, it was like he was trying to say something but was too woozy. As you raised your hands up to help him, a large hand grasped the back of your shirt, tearing you away. You screamed in fright, your arms still outstretched towards Jake. Your body was tossed to the ground. You looked up, The Shape standing over you. You stumbled backwards on all fours. He simply stood there, watching you. It was as if he wanted you to run. You flee the scene, running as fast as you could. You heard a crack in the sky, loud groaning filled your ears as you saw the claws of The Entity stretch down from the sky, raising your friends into the unknown. It was just you now, no one to help you. You ran until you couldn’t anymore, your mouth dry, your heart racing in your ears. It felt like it was going to explode. You collapsed behind a pile of scrap metal, backing up as close to it as you could, trying to hide. You couldn’t help but feel like he was somewhere watching you, this whole time. Like you hadn’t evaded his eyes once. Out of the shadows he appeared, approaching you at a steady pace. You began to sob, hiding your face in your hands. The Shape stood over you, the sound of his breathing behind his mask rhythmic. Your hands shook as you slowly pulled them away from your face to peer up at him. He squatted in front of you, gently pushing the back of his blade to your face. He slid it under your chin, lifting your face to meet his. It was apparent now that if he wanted you dead, you would be out of this trial already. Instead, he wanted your company. So there you stayed, in the cold fog, with the company of Evil itself. He took your hand, both your hand and his sticky with dried blood. Your heart rate slowed, taking comfort in the touch of another. He stood, lifting you with him. Not a word was shared between the two of you, it was up to you to understand his actions. Slightly startling you, he bent down and swept you off your feet. Instead of holding you over his shoulder like the others, he carried you bridal style. Your heart throbbed for a moment. What did he see in you? Wasn’t he pure evil? Sights set and programmed to sacrifice all victims to The Entity? He carried you to the house, finding a place to cozy up with you.

He set you down gently, brushing your hair out of your eyes. You looked up at him, his radiating blue eyes were so beautiful. Of course the eyes of the devil were bound to be stunning.. “S-so.. is this.. what you want?” You peeped, peering up at him. “To.. to spend a little time together?” You asked. He said nothing, only gazing down at you calmly. He gently touched your shoulder, continuing to look into your eyes, nothing more. He crouched down, moving into a seated position with his back up against the wall. He looked up at you, eyes demanding and wanting. You knew what he wanted, so you followed suit and sat beside him. He grabbed you while you started to sit, causing you to gasp. He twisted you to the side and pulled you into his lap. “Okay, i’ll lay here-“ you responded. So there the two of you stayed, The Shape petting your hair, running his bloody fingers through it, playing with it. He caressed your shoulders and your figure. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, but you could tell he was relaxed. The two of you lounged there together for a while, hearing nothing but the eerie sounds of Coldwind Farm and The Shape’s deep breathing. Occasionally, he would groan as if he was in pain, causing you to ask “are you okay?” as if you would get a response. Suddenly, he took his hands off your body and grabbed his head, groaning in pain. You sat up, and he stood quickly. You didn’t understand what was hurting him, but it was The Entity telling him it was time for the final sacrifice of the trial. He took your hand, and anxiety filled you once again. You still didn’t understand if you could trust him entirely.. but why was he keeping you? Why hadn’t he just sacrificed you with the others? He led you out of the house, marching through the fields at quite the speed. He was tall, and his long legs carried him fast. You had to jog to keep up. Still holding your hand, he led you to the hatch. It’s comforting hum filled your ears, relieving your anxiety as you thought of the familiar feeling of escaping a trial. You looked up at him, and you could see sadness in his eyes. Before you had the chance to say anything to him, he turned and walked away, disappearing in the fog. You stood there speechless, wondering if he would come back. After a while, you knew it was just time for you to go. Although the escape was a relief, you couldn’t help but feel saddened. Maybe you’ll see him again soon, in another trial.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you would like me to write more like this, or a follow up.

[gothghostiie]

Michael Myers cock worship… Eyes heavy lidded with lust as you huff his scent, his hand tight on your throat. I need him

the way I hardly get any requests for him is CRIMINAL so thank you <3

hand on the back of your head, pressing your face against his cock after a long day, making sure you really inhale his scent, get addicted to it

choking you when you pull away, getting all up in your face and shaking his head slowly before pressing your face back into his crotch before making you worship it

you better do well unless you want him to shove his cock down your throat, learn to appreciate it >:(

[thesightstoshowyou]

🩸BLOODFEST🩸

Week 2

Prompts: Found Footage. Gore. Corruption. Monster

Keywords: Nightmare. Ravenous.

Glass

Michael Myers x GN Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Noncon, breaking and entering, knife “play”, blood, gore, torture, creampie

~~

Misting rain coats your face, clings to your hair in little droplets as you hurry from your car, shopping bags in hand. You shift your groceries onto one arm, fumble with the keys in your pocket. Hunched, eyes squinting against the droplets hanging from your eyelashes, you finally manage to shoulder your way inside.

Your elbow finds the light switch, illuminating the entryway of your darkened home. A quick glance to your feet finds damp foliage clinging to the soles of your boots. You stomp, scrub, wiggle, but the sticky leaves refuse to budge. Groaning in annoyance, you kick off your boots and hurry to the kitchen. Groceries plonk onto the counter and you heave a relieved sigh when your arms are freed of their burden.

Bags rustle as you move about the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers to stow your purchases. As you pass the stove, a jar on the counter catches your eye. Apples in hand, brows furrowing, you pause.

Had you left the peanut butter out?

Maybe, but you’d never leave it sitting on the counter with no lid. Puzzled, you place the apples in the fridge before returning the errant jar—lid now on tight—to the pantry.

The last items—an autumn bouquet of sunflowers, mums, and orange roses—go into a glass vase. You set the arrangement on your dining room table, a quiet thunk disturbing the hush of your home.

As you fuss with the flowers, a glimmer of light near the back door catches your eye. Again, you frown in confusion. Water speckles the floor here and there, the kitchen lights illuminating each little pool. Wet leaves litter the floor as well, haphazardly trailed inside….

After being brought in on damp boots.

Your heart stutters, then vaults into your throat when you’re suddenly and startlingly seized by the back of the neck and shoved forward. The vase you’re still holding shatters under the force of the push, glass smashing and skittering across the table.

Screams spring from your mouth when the vase shards pierce your hands and forearms. Shifting and thrashing only jars them more, burning pain burrowing into your flesh. You freeze to minimize the agony just as another dirty hand clamps down around your mouth to silence your cries of anguish.

Wildly, you blink away tears and twist your neck, craning to see who pins you to the table. Your eyes grow wide, horror crushing your panting lungs when you spot the dingy mask.

You’d recognize this monster anywhere.

Michael wastes no time. Hand leaving your mouth, he retrieves the blood-soaked knife from his pocket. It’s brought to your face, close enough to see your terrified reflection in ruby-coated steel. You get the message.

Shaking from head to toe, you nod, a silent agreement not to scream. He doesn’t withdraw the knife.

Instead, the hand on the back of your neck slides down your spine, grips hold of the waistband of your jeans and twists. Fabric rips as Michael tears your pants away, the shreds left hanging off your hips, your ass now bared to him. The knife hovering near your face is the only thing preventing you from shrieking in protest, from flailing and pleading.

It wouldn’t do you any good, anyway. Your nightmare is this monster’s nirvana.

Zipping reaches your ears and you clench your eyes shut, flinching when hot, hard flesh brushes your rear. Behind the mask, Michael breathes long and slow, each exhale muffled and distorted. Is he wheezing…?

Pressure at your entrance derails your train of thought and you snap your mouth closed. It’s gonna hurt, it always hurts, brace for it, don’t scream—

Michael surges forward, thick cock parting tense, unprepared muscles and jarring the glass embedded in your limbs. Your anguished cry is choked by your own willpower, the sound barely contained by gritted teeth.

You wince when the knife shifts, but it’s just Michael moving behind you, his free hand returning to your neck, the cheek of the mask coming to rest on the back of your head as he curls over you.

With the Shape now so close, you finally notice the smell: Pungent smoke, like there’s a campfire burning in your kitchen, singed hair, burnt flesh, charred plastic. Your mind buzzes, too many thoughts, too much pain to process before you could even begin to understand why Michael smells like he’d just come from a bonfire.

Then, the fingers on your neck flex and push. You’re not ready for it, not prepared to have your cheek smashed into a pile of glass. You snap your eyes shut on instinct as shards pierce your face. It’s agony, burning, stabbing pain erupting deep in your flesh. Blood fills your mouth, metallic and sharp.

It is by the grace of whatever deity watches over you that you don’t scream. You can’t, shock stilling your lungs, rooting you to the spot in frozen torment. Crimson drips onto the table, pooling under your cheek, aiding in the slide as Michael gives an experimental thrust.

Now, you must clench your teeth again. Movement amplifies your pain, unfreezes your muscles. Your eyelids crack open and your half-formed scream lodges in your throat when you find the knife tip centimeters away from your eye. The Shape bucks his hips, nudges your head with his masked cheek.

Through near blinding agony, you realize it’s a dare: Do it. Scream. My blade is ravenous. I will show you levels of pain you can only imagine.

So begins the quiet battle; Michael ruts into you, shoves your face into glass, jostles the shards in your arms and hands while you muster all your remaining strength to stay quiet. The Shape’s gasping breaths hiss in your ear, fill your head with images of a rasping beast, teeth bared, poised to devour.

Please, please pass out. You can’t take it anymore….

Michael’s hips stutter. He grunts, nails biting into your neck, cock twitching within you. You sob and suck in a breath that reeks of fire and gore as he marks your insides.

Finally, blessedly, he releases you. Michael stands, pushes away. Without his weight, you slip from the table and collapse in a bloody pile, glass raining down around your trembling body. You whimper as quietly as you can manage and cradle your ruined arms to your chest.

Vision blurring, you opt to listen instead. Michael moves around the kitchen, opening cupboards, rustling through your new groceries. More stomping of boots. The hinges of the back door squeal. You jerk and groan when the door slams. Then silence. Merciful silence.

You’re alive. You must convince yourself this is a good thing.

Tumultuous thoughts turn to survival; stop this bleeding. You have to move. Get up. Get up!

Through haggard gasps, sniveling, and uncontrollable quaking, you work your way to your feet. Everything aches, everything burns. You cannot see out of one eye. Slick leaks down your thighs as you stumble, adding insult to injury. Dark pools drip around you with every step.

Staggering into the kitchen, your bleary gaze falls to the counter.

Michael left the peanut butter out again.

[the-cannibal]

Hello! I was wondering if I could please get a matchup? I’m 20, 21 in april. I’m bi but i honestly don’t care what anyone’s gender is as long as we get along. i’m 5’9”, i’m kinda chubby but a lot of my weight is in my butt, thighs, and boobs. I have long wavy dark brown hair, brown eyes. I have a lot of freckles and they’re just kinda everywhere. I really enjoy doing makeup and I don’t leave the house until I have eyeliner on. I’m an INFJ, I’m a little bit of a smart ass, I’m really into science and history. I also enjoy painting whenever I get the chance and I like to knit. I tend to quote TV shows a lot. Whenever someone is being rude to me I just kind of give them the soulless stare until they leave. I also enjoy reading darker books! I like to read psychological thrillers, horror, and sometimes gothic literature!

Romantically, when I have fallen for someone, I’m a simp. I will do anything for that person, just give me the task and/or a name and I’ll take care of them. I love to play with people’s hair and kiss all over their faces. I tend to be a bit bossy and make sure they’re okay. I need cuddles all the time. I swoon at pet names and any sort of praise. I’m a sweet girl? Hell yeah, I’ll do anything! I love going on cute lil dates like the zoo and just taking pics of each other and putting them in a journal for memories. I tend to be very selfless but I get jealous and insecure a bit.

Thank you so much for your work!

Hello hello hello! I know it’s still March but happy early birthday!

I decided to pair you with…

Michael Myers!

Ohhh I’d love to see you be a smart ass around him that would be amazing

Don’t be surprised if he just stares you down though

He isn’t much of a talker. But he’s a great listener! Go on a gush about science and history, he will listen! (And I promise he is paying attention, he may be a little shit sometimes but he does love to listen to you bush about your interests)

He totally would steal paint, canvases, and anything you need to knit and gift them to you. Shhh don’t ask about the mysterious red goo on them shhhh

If you knit him anything he won’t wear it outside the house, he’s pretty set and stone on his basic style of coveralls and mask. But you bet he will wear them around the house all the time. A sweater? Perfect, he was feeling a bit cold. A hat? No he will not take it off even though he is inside, he’s gonna wear it!

Your love of dark books is perfect because if he wasn’t huge on reading before he sure is now! You know that thing dads do when you are watching something on tv and the insist that they aren’t interested but then they just stand behind you watching like 🧍‍♂️

Yeah that’s Michael when you are reading.

Your bossiness and his stubbornness definitely butt heads a lot. But hey it usually end with you covering him in kisses and him giving in and cuddling with you!

He had no idea what a simp was until he met you. But he loves it and is also totally one for you. Although his simping is a bit more violent… he is a killer after all! Give him a name and he’ll take care of everything.

Would take you on little exploring adventures as dates. The woods over there? Yep you got a whole lot of pictures of you two exploring it! And perhaps a few of you kissing behind a tree ;)

[slasherbish]

Quiet Nights Part 6 (Michael Myers x Reader)

The atmosphere in the hideout was awkward. The killer almost always refused eye contact with the human that he had become close with. The human on the other hand couldn’t care less about what had happened. For the first time in a few days he looked up at (y/n). They smiled when their friend finally looked their way. He motioned to his neck asking how the bruising was. 

“It’s fine really. It doesn’t even hurt” You said hoping to quench his worries. To you it was in the past and didn’t affect the future. “Besides now I know I look good in scarves.” He gave a nod at your attempt at humor. The man regretted what he had done. It was a new emotion for him, regret, and he didn’t like it. 

Michael still wasn’t sure how you overcame fear so easily when he was clearly cutting off airflow. He wasn’t sure if you were human, he hadn’t met a human that could just switch off emotions like you had. The truth was you weren’t normal, you had gone through a lot of trauma in your life and it had changed everything about you. From a young age you had to be able to shut down emotions to stay alive. If you allowed someone to get to you it might mean game over. Michael was the first person in a while that you had let your walls down around. 

Maybe it was because you had been a victim of psychiatric hospitals as well or maybe it was that somewhere deep inside you wanted to know more about the infamous killer. You weren’t sure but what you did know was that he was your friend and you weren’t about to abandon that just because he lashed out once out of fear of what you could do to him. Whether he knew it or not his actions against you had come from a place of fear. His walls were falling and that scared him because then, if you chose to hurt him it’d be even more devastating. 

The day rolled on and you had decided to spend the entire day with the silent man. A lazy day was in order and what better way to spend it than reading in the lair of a notorious serial killer? You weren’t going to be selfish so you had brought him some books to read as well. Not knowing what genre he liked you brought a mystery, a horror, and a thriller book. He hadn’t read in a while so he took his time and was going to read each of the books your brought. Seeing how immersed he was made you glad that you took a day off work to read with your friend. You were reading (F/B) occasionally looking over at the man. 

The two took a break around dinner to eat and (y/n) took this as their chance to tell Michael all about the book they were reading. For the entirety of the meal you went over all of the details of the story and of course your favorite character. The killer had finished eating but was sitting listening to your enthusiastic story telling. It didn’t take him too long to realize that you wouldn’t stop unless he made you stop. He knew just what to do to get you to shut up. He balled up the wrapper from his dinner and threw it at your turned away head. That made you stop talking mid sentence. At that moment you knew it would all be okay. 

“I get it, I'm rambling” You said in response. The two of you turned your chairs back around so you were no longer facing away. His hand reached for the bag of cookies that you had brought but retracted his hand when you swatted it away. “I was serious no cookies for you” He glared at you, you had withheld them since the incident. “Oh okay fine your cookie ban is lifted”

tag list @vampire-hunter @babygurl97 @adaydreamaway08 @villainfan

[fishyvamp]

To be in a threesome with these two... I'd be so sore, but oh so happy.

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

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

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

[rootsofdread]

Hi! Can I request Trickster, Michael, Ghostface and Skull Merchant and Bubba with a survivor reader basically being goofy with the other survivors and fucking up gens every 5 seconds because their laughing and can't focus and when they get hooked they make jokes and try to annoy the hell out of the killer? And when it's time to escape they drop their stuff for the killer and leave cause they thought it was a fun match? GN reader pls :)

my first bubba request!! i loved writing him for you 🥺🥺

Bubba Sawyer / The Cannibal:

Bubba knows being in the Entity’s realm isn’t pleasant; it’s been a long time since he’s seen anyone have fun. So in all honesty — he kind of enjoys seeing you all have some fun. He’s the first to run over when he hears several explosions in a row from a generator, because he’s almost certain that it’s you, and he could always use a good laugh. You’re the first person in an even longer time to really make him smile, he loves getting to spend time with you during trials and he especially loves getting to laugh with you. For one trial, he can forget that he has a job to do. He can focus on you instead. His favorite thing is getting your gifts after the trials — he gets so excited seeing you leave something for him. He especially loves toolboxes, so he can work on his chainsaw, but he loves everything you give him. He always looks forward to seeing you again.

Michael Myers / The Shape:

Michael doesn’t really understand how or why you’re so comfortable being so…yourself in trials. It’s such a foreign concept to him. Everyone else is so focused on staying alive, but you, you’re…you’re out in the trials having fun, and laughing. He likes to sit and observe you from afar. You usually try to get him in on the joke, come on over here, Mikey, we’re all having fun, but he just shakes his head. Sometimes he gets closer to you and just looms while you and your fellow survivors cry laughing over your antics, exploding the generator you’re all working on at any possible turn. You’ll never get that done. He may seem judgemental, but really, he’s just…watching. He finds it entertaining, in a way, seeing some of you have fun here. He even feels a bit special when you take the time to leave him your things; he doesn’t necessarily have a use for them, but…it’s nice.

Danny Johnson / The Ghostface:

Danny is likely the only one that would be willing to join you in your antics; he seems to love a good laugh just as much as you do. Particularly, he loves either sneaking up on you by ending up just behind your shoulder and waiting to see how long it takes you to notice him, or by sneaking up on a teammate and not only waiting to see how long it takes them to notice, but also making gestures with his hands to try to get you to laugh, too. He loves how much fun you are — everyone else is such a buzzkill, he can’t imagine why, of course, but you just love to have fun here. You’re always laughing and smiling and making everyone else do the same, and it has him utterly smitten with you. You’re his favorite survivor to hang out with, and it absolutely delights him when you leave him your items at the exit gates. He takes everything you give him, and it’d be safe to assume he’s amassed a collection…somewhere.

Ji-Woon Hak / The Trickster:

Ji-Woon is a loose canon — for a long time, you were never sure how he would react to you, because it was almost always different. Sometimes he seemed annoyed by your antics, or amused, sometimes he completely ignored you and went for someone else; sometimes he was particularly bloodythirsty and you were his first target. It was always a toss-up. Over time, he gets more used to you and your shenanigans — he less feels the need to kill you for them and more just lets you have your fun. As long as you’re not specifically giving him problems, he doesn’t seem to really care. Sometimes, even, when he passes by you looking for someone else, he gives you a little smile or giggle, indicating he may just be amused by you now. And every time you leave him an item, you see him take it, and later, when he sees you outside of a trial, he hands it back to you with a genuine autograph.

Adriana Imai / The Skull Merchant:

Adriana, truthfully, will have none of it. She knows you won’t give her a challenge and she seems to not care much for that fact — she tends to leave you alone during trials and let you have your fun, slowly picking off your team members instead. Sometimes, she’ll give you a look when she passes by you, silently telling you to do something. Run, scream, hide, give her something to hunt you for. Yet, she seems almost flustered when you look back at her with that big grin on your face. She tends to let you go, too, always responding with you’re no fun if you ask her why, but you’ve always considered, perhaps, she has a soft spot for you. She’d never admit it. She does accept your items at the end, though. She knows she can find uses for them.

[krypticcafe]

How would Slashers (non DBD Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Bubba Swayer) comfort their partner after a nightmare? I thought it might be cute if it's not too much to ask for.

Slashers comforting their partner after a nightmare

rating: PG-13

character(s): GN!Reader, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer

warning(s): sprinkle of angst, lotta comfort, no beta read

a/n: I love these types of requests so much, gahhhhh- also this probably has so many grammar errors, I write at late hours :')

Jason

Admittedly, you kinda spooked him as well when you shot out of bed and nearly screamed.

Oh, but the moment he heard you sniffle while apologizing, he's holding your hands and tracing question marks into your palms.

You try to tell him, but you can barely utter a word in all your hyperventilating. It has him pulling you into a hug and enveloping you with his big arms.

You let a few tears escape when he's rubbing circles into your back.

After a while, he shifts off the bed for a bit to grab one of his coats and urges you to put it on. You comply, albeit confused.

He scoops you into his arms with ease and, for some reason, starts walking out of the cabin.

Your suspicions of where he was taking you were correct, finding yourself in the nearby grassy clearing you two often escaped to for some peace.

It became clear that Jason wanted to take your mind off of things by taking you here and showing you something out of a dream, fireflies mixed with a clear, starry night sky, a full moon to illuminate the area, and a summer breeze that wasn't too cold.

You two spent the night laying together in the grass, stargazing and trying to tell apart the stars from the bugs.

Jason would listen closely to whatever you talked about, whether a topic to distract yourself or the nightmare itself.

You appreciated that about him, how attentive and always had an ear out for you. He'd never interrupt and always respond in some small way even if he wasn't the most talkative. And he never, ever made you feel ashamed for rambling either, no he adored it.

When you've managed to keep the fear and memory of the nightmare at bay, you find yourself drifting into a deep sleep as he carries you back home.

Michael

Okay let's be honest, Michael wouldn't really wake up immediately when you jolt out of bed, your mind reeling with fear. He's a heavy sleeper, but he'd probably notice when the bed feels weirdly lighter and colder.

On the other hand, he might not be there initially, taking care of business as per usual.

There was a time when he wasn't home and you were alone. You went to the kitchen to grab yourself some water and that's when you heard a noise at the door.

Judging by how heavy the footsteps were, you knew immediately it was Michael standing at the doorway of the kitchen.

Just the sight of him standing there like some big oaf had you a bit humored. On the other hand, Michael was wondering what you were doing up at this hour.

You got the message and welcomed him home, letting out a small shaky sigh, "Just got a bit of a bad night's sleep, Mike, that's all."

You wanted to keep your composure, after all, your partner had come home after a supposedly long night, and you didn't want to burden him with your issues.

Unexpectedly, Michael dropped his weapon on the counter and walked over to you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him, and bringing you into a hug.

Was he a bit rough and clumsy with it? Yes. Was it comforting? Also yes. At least, you were 99.99% sure it was intended to be.

Usually after doing "business", Michael tended to be distant for a bit of time, for what reason you were unsure, but you had always respected that boundary of his.

Needless to say, this out-of-character effort of his to comfort you was a much needed and much welcomed surprise. And to you, it seemed like a big step in the right direction for your strange relationship.

Bubba

You wake up with a start, immediately clasping your hand over your mouth to keep anyone from hearing your gasps and sobs because you'd rather not wake the others right now.

It takes Bubba a minute to get up since he's a little sleepy-eyed, but when he feels you trembling and sees you looking scared, he's grabbing the knife on the bedside table and getting up to look for an intruder.

Putting a hand on his arm, you let him know that there isn't one, you just had a nightmare.

He sets the knife down (safely) and immediately scoops you into a hug, letting out concerned clicks and chirps.

You find yourself grounded in his arms, the way warmth radiates from his body and how his heartbeat gently reverberates in your ears. His hugs are what remind you most of home, safety, and comfort.

Unfortunately, he parts for a moment, gently squeezing your shoulders to reassure you that it won't be for long, he'll be right back.

And while you don't want to let go, you resign yourself, having full faith and trust that your partner wouldn't just leave you there. He would never dream of doing so.

Moments pass until the sound of wood creaking draws your attention as your lover walks into the room with two mugs in hand.

Based on the smell that had your stomach instantly rumbling, he had made you fresh, homemade hot chocolate. This sweetheart found marshmallows to put in and even brought you your favorite mug, too.

You almost want to sob at that. But instead, you press a kiss on his lips and thank him.

Even with no exchange of words, you bask in the comfort of simply enjoying a rich drink with your partner in bed, your mind finally at ease.

When you go back to sleep, Bubba makes sure to hold you even closer and you know he won't budge even in his sleep and that alone is enough for you to know that you'll be safe to sleep again, especially with him to protect you.

[notdysfunk]

MERRY CHRISTMAS I GORTTA GO TO BED BUT I THOUGHT THIS WAS FUNNY

[lilly-townshend]

[viinchester]

Shape Of You

Warnings: Mentions of an injury and that it's being taken care of (nothing too graphic), Depictions of Sexual Content (Minors DNI!), Rough/Intense Sexual Content, could be considered Dubcon by coercion (not really imo, but just to be on the safe side), Themes of Possession and Objectification

Fandom: Dexter (TV Show/Series)

Pairing: Brian Moser/Rudy Cooper x F!Reader

Request: by Anon

Summary: Brian takes care of your injury after you've taken a nasty fall, however you can't help but feel like something's off about the situation. Unaware of his dark thoughts and oblivious to the deeper manipulation at play, you clear your mind by focussing on his comforting presence, and things quickly get heated.

Word Count: 3.271

My Masterlist

A/N: For some reason, I really struggled with this.😬 I rewrote it like 3 or 4 different times entirely, I hope it's not too noticable.😅 I was also unsure when exactly to refer to Brian as "Rudy" so I tried to only do it whenever the writing directly represents the Readers thoughts about him.💕 I still had a ton of fun writing this and I hope I could do the idea that anon had justice and that you guys like it!🙏🏼 I would really appreciate reposts/comments with feedback.👀 Feel free to request stuff, I always enjoy getting some inspiration to keep the writing going.💙

Brian knelt beside you, his touch gentle as he pressed the damp cloth to your leg. The sharp sting of the cut made you wince, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the embarrassment of how it had happened.

You had tripped, just like you seemed to always do. This time, it had been over something small, a simple crack in the sidewalk, causing you to suddenly lie on the ground, blood welling up and staining your skin.

Heat rose in your cheeks in frustration at yourself and the fact that Brian now had to take care of you, but he was ever calm and didn't seem the least bit bothered.

Not saying much, he offered you a soft smile and then continued tending to your cut, his focus entirely on the injury itself.

He’d always been good at this type of stuff, fixing things while being composed and so in control — qualities you usually greatly admired in him.

But as you sat there in that moment, feeling the warmth of his touch, something didn’t seem right.

You knew you should be glad.

Here was your boyfriend, cleaning up your mess, like he so often did. You were fortunate, really, to have someone like him — patient and ready to swoop in when you inevitably fell again. So though you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off, you did your best to simply brush it aside.

After all, this was Rudy. Sweet, dependable Rudy, who always seemed to know exactly what to do and was there for you whenever you stumbled — literally and figuratively.

And even if his fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary on your skin right now, it likely didn't mean anything. The way in which he inspected your bloodstained leg with a look of concentration reassured you further.

“You really should be more careful,” Brian suddenly said, his voice low and soothing. His gentle words and focused demeanor helped ease your nerves.

You chastised yourself for ever thinking twice about his actions. Your boyfriend was simply trying to watch out for you, that's all. Why were you even doubting him in the first place? Maybe it was just the pain from the cut or the embarrassment of tripping again. Or maybe it was the whole thing with the Ice Truck Killer going on at the moment.

Yes, that had to be it. It had probably made you more paranoid than you'd initially thought.

But you had absolutely nothing to worry about, because the sweet man kneeling in front of you was nothing like that monster.

Forcing yourself to relax a little, you sighed.

"I know," you mumbled, as he expertly bandaged your leg, secretly marveling at how steady his hands were.

It was easy to forget how awkward you felt in moments like this, with him so effortlessly tending to you. You crooked a smile at him then, but Brian didn’t meet your eyes right away. He was too busy inspecting his work, a subtle smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth as he secured the bandage.

To you, he seemed satisfied with his patch job, but inside, something else simmered. He felt an almost childlike joy about the way you sat there, so vulnerable, your leg limp in his hands.

He liked seeing you this way — hurt, but not too hurt. Just enough to need him, to be reliable on him.

It stirred something deep inside of him.

“There,” he said, leaning back a little to admire the bandage. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. “Does that feel better?”

You looked down at your leg and inspected the professionally wrapped bandage. It was not too tight and not too loose. It was perfect. Just like him.

Tension oozing from your body, you nodded and looked up at your boyfriend again, smiling earnestly. “Yeah, much better. Thank you.”

His smile widened just a fraction, not quite reaching his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m here to patch you up,” he said with a lightness in his voice that made you feel a little better. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

The way he said it — his voice smooth and promising — made you smile, comforted by his presence.

Rudy really loved you, didn't he? He was always right there when you needed him.

He stood up and offered you his hand, and despite the slight apprehension earlier, you eagerly took it. His grip was firm and steady as he helped you to your feet, making sure that you avoided putting too much weight on your injured leg.

You pushed past any lingering odd emotions and focused on the fact that you were grateful for him. You had nothing to worry about — not with Rudy, not with the man who never made you feel stupid for being clumsy, who was always kind to you, the calm in your storm.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly, your voice carrying gratitude.

Brian's eyes flicked to yours, a faint twinkle in them. He felt content.

As he held your gaze for a moment longer, he could clearly see the relief and appreciation in you. It had him suppressing a grin, the way you were so easily fooled.

To him, you were perfect in your vulnerability, of course. A doll. Beautiful, delicate, and breakable. He liked you that way — liked the way your clumsiness brought you to him, having to be fixed, to be held together. Every scrape, every fall, was a small gift, an opportunity for him to touch you, to take care of you. To make you his again, piece by fragile piece. You were his creation, something he had molded with care and patience, and he was the only one who could keep you whole.

Or take you further apart, if he chose.

But for now, he was content to play the role you expected — your Rudy, the one who would always keep you safe.

He watched you as your eyes briefly flickered to his mouth and up again, and knew what you were going to do before you had even fully decided on it.

Slowly, you leaned in and brushed your lips against his, wanting to show him just how much you appreciated him.

Letting you take control for a moment, Brian allowed you to believe that you were doing something for him, even though he knew better. You were in his hands, for as long as you lived. The thought thrilled him in a way you could never know, in a way he would never let you see.

Keeping his lips perfectly still, Brian decided to act surprised by your sudden gesture, pausing for a few seconds, until he could just about feel you starting to pull away.

He kissed you back then, using every bit of his self-restraint to start softly, and his hand came up to cradle the back of your neck in a tender movement. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, daring to go further by tightening his grip on you slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After a few moments, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your heart beating faster. When you looked up at him, his smile was still there, and he looked as warm as ever to you. As you lost yourself inside his eyes, Brian felt that familiar pulse of satisfaction.

You didn’t know it, but you were already his, caught in the delicate web he had woven around you. He could see how much you trusted him and the unguarded naivety you held had been obvious to him from the very first moment that you two had met.

You were simply too brittle for this world. Too easily shattered by its sharp edges, too flimsy to protect yourself from the falls you constantly took. That’s why you needed him. That’s why you would always need him.

As his thumb stroked the pulse point along your neck, feeling the quickened beat beneath your skin, he smiled at you. It was a soft and loving smile, one he had perfected for you.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Brian now addressed your last sentence, his voice calm and encouraging, with only a tiny hint of something darker that you didn't seem to notice. “No matter how clumsy you are, I’ll always be there to fix you when you break.”

The words, meant to comfort you, immediately had their desired effect. You happily beamed up at him while blushing furiously.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” you told him and then leaned in again, kissing him softly and embracing the moment.

Wallowing in the comfort and warmth he provided you with, you slid your hands up his chest, deepening the kiss. You didn’t want to think or talk anymore, just enjoy the feeling of being with him.

Brian watched you through half-lidded eyes, noticing your movements growing more desperate with every passing second. He could feel the tension in your body — the way you were almost pleading for his control — and it amused him, in a way.

You didn’t even realize how effortlessly you fell into this role, how naturally you let yourself be pulled into his world.

Moving his hands down to your waist, he squeezed them a little tighter than usual, but you didn’t seem to notice the extra strength in his grip, too absorbed in your need.

When you grasped the hem of his shirt and tugged it up to pull over his head, he lifted his arms and let you, suppressing a smirk.

It was obvious to him that you needed this physical closeness. Your skin pressing against his, fingers now fumbling with his belt in a frenzy — you were letting go of any lingering doubts and focusing solely on him.

Feeling a sense of smugness, he guided you with quick, assertive movements, prying your clothes away with a roughness that seemed to match your urgency. You gasped as he yanked off your shirt and then dug his fingers into your skin, his touch simultaneously gentle and commanding. Leaning further into him, you longed for release already and how he always made everything else seem insignificant when you were together like this.

Brian’s lips determinedly traveled to your throat, kissing you with an insistent fervor now. You shuddered under the ferocity, but didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him. His teeth grazed your skin, causing your head to fall back in an open-mouthed moan, arching your body against him, desperate for more. The heat of his passion overwhelmed you, pushing any thoughts of discomfort aside. Hands roamed your body, his traces both prodding and tranquilizing.

He could feel the way you were giving in to him and letting him take over, allowing him to guide you, and that’s exactly how he liked it. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging in even more, and when you winced, he knew you felt it — though you never pulled away.

You wanted this. You needed him to be in charge.

When he led you into the bedroom, your discarded clothes left in the wake of his deliberate actions, his movements were filled with a raw intensity.

You shortly cringed at the sudden pain shooting through your injured leg when his weight pressed down on you as he pushed you onto the bed, but his lips crashing against yours with hunger made you almost immediately forget about any hurt. Kissing him back just as frantically, you wrapped your arms around his neck to cling onto him. He slipped his tongue between your lips almost forcefully, licking over every hidden crevice in your mouth with purpose. His hands roamed over your body and you moaned into Brian's mouth, his touch both a source of solace and pleasure for you.

Deep down on the inside a part of you noticed a subtle shift — Rudy was not being as gentle and careful as he normally was — but that part was swiftly drowned out by the sensations of everything else going on. All you could truly acknowledge in that moment was the incredible desire for him to make you forget everything but the feeling of him against you.

As if he somehow knew about what you’d felt, Brian interrupted the sloppy kiss and moved once more with intention and a vigor that sent your heart racing. His hands, bruising but controlled, pushed down the last bit of garment left between the two of you and you gasped as fresh air hit your intimate zone. You hadn't even realized how wet you'd gotten and now felt slightly ashamed at the way your body obviously liked the way he handled you and the way he'd been — and still was — pushing you and testing your limits, teetering the edges of breaking them.

He was still Rudy though, still the man who you trusted most in the world, so you didn't give it much more than a passing thought and decided to just roll with it.

Even though it would probably give you pause if you properly questioned it — the fact that he didn't usually act this way and only when you were injured or reliant on him in some way — for more than two seconds. But you didn’t question it for more than two seconds, couldn't, as your body deliciously responded and distracted you instead.

When Brian finally pushed into you, you cried out, your fingernails digging into his shoulders and leaving half-crescent-shaped moon indentions in his skin. He allowed you to adjust to his size for a short while, pushing his forehead against yours with his mouth hanging open in a silent groan as he relished in the feeling of being inside you.

After enough time passed for you to become used to him, you patted his shoulder and nodded ever so slightly, not capable of words.

Brian understood though, and immediately began to move, quickly setting a pace that was fast and demanding.

Pressing your eyes shut, you clung to him, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him impossibly closer — entirely missing the way his eyes were filled with something completely wild and dark. Focussing on the feeling of your boyfriend pushing and pulling inside of you, he soon began to hit that delicious spot deep in you, and you moaned loudly.

Brian leaned down then and you could feel his hot breath against your ear, his voice low and rough.

“You need me, don’t you?” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. You frantically nodded while gasping for air, unable to answer anything. “Whenever you need me, I am — and will — be there, every. single. time.”

He punctuated each word with a sharper and deeper thrust, angled directly at your sweet spot, leaving you choking for breath with tears in your eyes at one point. His words, though assertive, felt like a promise of security and care to you.

The room was heavy with heat, your breaths mingling, the sound of your bodies crashing together filling the space. Each push sent a jolt through you that made your head spin. You lost yourself in it all, in these repetitive motions, his touch, the feeling of his skin against yours.

One of his hands now moved to your clit and his movements became even more resolved and driven. He was controlling the moment, steering it exactly where he wanted, and your body responded accordingly. You could feel yourself being pulled in by the sensation, as he pushed you towards the edge.

“God, you’re so perfect like this,” Brian grunted, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “Come on, it's alright. You’re mine, aren’t you? Just let go.”

Tears rose in your eyes as you felt your body react to both his words and actions, the increasing intensity overtaking everything else and throwing you into a rush of pure ecstasy.

Your fingers dug into his back, your breath ragged, and all at once you fell into the waves, pulled underneath by their impact. You couldn't breathe for a moment, until finally, with a twist from Brian's fingers and a sharp cry from you, you reached the surface again.

The release hit you hard, sending rows of pleasure crashing through your body, and all you could do was lie there and take it, face screwed up in the pleasure of it.

Brian followed soon after, his movements rough and forceful as he found his own release, breath hot against your neck as he groaned, low and deep.

For a moment, the world stilled as the both of you tried to calm your breathing, the overwhelming physical connection between the two of you leaving you in a daze. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling beneath the weight of his body on you.

After what felt like ages, but was likely only seconds, Brian lifted himself up and out of you, leaving you feeling strangely empty at the loss of him.

He collapsed beside you then and the room fell into a heavy silence in the aftermath of what you'd done.

As he lay beside you, Brian's mind was a whirlpool of satisfaction and dark pleasure. He reveled in the way you’d clung to him, completely oblivious to the extent of his control. The contrast between your dependence on him and his calculated dominance over you joyed him immensely.

Lifting his head, he turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush your hair back from your face, his caress tender again and a stark difference from the intensity of the moments you’d shared just before. His fingers grazed over your skin, his touch so feather-light and soft, it immediately erased any lingering concerns in you.

It was an act, of course. A way to further embed his influence. The compassion was a calculated gesture, a way to reinforce the illusion of care while keeping you bound to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked carefully, his voice carrying a tone of worry that felt comforting, and you nodded, reassured by his touch.

He always knew how to make you feel cherished, and you clung to that sense of security.

He noted the way your body relaxed against his, your breathing steady and calm. The pretense of concern came naturally to him, a mask he wore so well.

His hand now rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly as he leaned in closer.

“I love you,” he whispered, the final nail in the coffin, as always, his gaze lingering on you and studying your relaxed and smitten features. To him, you were more than just a partner; you were a project, a creation he had formed. The sweetness in his voice was a facade that masked his true intentions.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you felt another wave of affection and safety. Any fleeting worries were overshadowed by his sedative presence. You knew he was there for you, providing the care and support you needed.

“I love you too,” you responded, wrapping your arms around him and drawing him closer, feeling his warmth envelop you.

And as you nestled closer, Brian’s thoughts were filled with a dark fulfillment. The control he wielded was subtle, deeply woven into the fabric of his relationship with you.

And you, in your innocent trust, had made it all too easy.

With the quiet settling in, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his presence and fell asleep.