*quietly Sips On Tea*
*quietly sips on tea*
Imagine Dead by Daylight’s Shape/Myers getting jealous and having to reinforce that the survivor is his. Maybe Ghostface got a little too flirty with them or another killer let them go during a trial and it drove Michael mad, reading into things too much, every little detail leading him to doubt himself. So, he seeks them out during a trial of their own. He doesn’t care if any of the other survivors hear or if they escape, he just needs to leave his mark on his survivor and hear them call his name. Rough stuff, ego boosting, marking etc.
Aw man, y'all know I love me a good possessive slasher. I've been stroking this prompt lovingly and waiting for the day I knew I could nail it, so let's fucking gooo!
!!!This post contains adult content for an adult audience, minors and ageless blogs dni with this post!!!
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Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gn and ambiguous (Though v brief mention of reader in a skirt one time), Possessive behavior, Primal play, Knife play + Marking with said knife
_____
Simply put: You were his favorite obsession. Michael had taken quite the shining to you since your first run in, where you had a...unique style of distraction. Where you would wolf whistle his way and holler at him from across the street of his very own domain. Or where you'd lift up your shirt and flash him and tauntingly yell that he could have a piece of you-- IF he could catch you.
Curiosity had hit him. Such a strange being you were. And from what he heard through the grapevine that was the Entity's spidery-like arms- you didn't do it with other killers. In fact, you liked to trip them up, but not in such a loud way.
He'd caught you only a handful of times before then since your first encounter. The first time he'd caught you, you'd laughed, clutching at the slash across the front of your chest where you were bleeding. You had your back to the wall, panting as you crooned out, "So what piece will it be, big guy? Arm? Leg?"
When he'd roughly tugged at your shirt, you'd only laughed even as he exposed you. Testing you even as your hands came up and you'd smiled so gleefully. "Oh! And here I was starting to wonder I wasn't your type!" Even with your wound still bleeding.
Yes, you were indeed his favorite obsession.
~Rest under the cut~
When this relationship began and where it ended was up to anyone. During the full moons when the Entity let you all mingle, you'd always end up in his domain. Under him or above him, panting with your head thrown back and moaning his name.
Michael had gotten quite the taste for it now. Hearing you whine his name like that, tossing and turning and squirming beneath his very touch. Didn't matter how rough he handled you, you ate it up with gleeful sounds.
You were his. And only he could get this rise out of you. Only you would treat him the way you do.
So imagine his surprise when word through the grapevine is that Ghostface is getting to toy with you. Where he flaunts pictures of you and laughs about how he'd like to tap that. How enraged you'd been when you found those pictures of you and he'd gotten to see up your skirt you'd had on that day. And how turned on Ghostface had been when you'd gotten up in his face.
Michael feels that itch in his fingertips to stab him, so he follows that itch. Stabbing straight through Ghostface's hand and nailing it to the table full of your pictures.
The hunt begins upon next trial.
You know it's him right away, but you feel something's off. You believe it to be a game near immediately, cautiously making your way through his domain. The flashing lights of the police car blinding you briefly as you take in your surroundings after finishing a generator.
When your eyes meet a white mask, you fight a smile as you take off quickly. Playing the game of 'prey' as you run from him with Michael in hot pursuit.
When he catches you, you're slammed onto the nearest surface. In your case, it ends up being an old bed, your body bouncing on it before you gasp as he gets on top of you. You play victim, kicking and squirming and trying to get out of his grasp before his rough hand grabs your chin and forces your eyes on him. Your wrists pinned by his other hand above your head.
"O-oh come on, I don't wanna get hooked today-" You whine out, arching your back into him and grumbling. Your heart races, your eyes meeting the holes of his mask and briefly seeing his own through them. One baby blue, one blinded. His breathing is heavy, off somehow.
And he's not moving from between your legs either.
"Michael-" You huff, rolling your hips up to try and press him up and off you. It doesn't work, of course, but it does work in making him press down further on top of you. "Come on- during a trial? Really? Won't the Entity be pissed?"
His response is silence, as it always is. But you swear- you swear you hear a growl.
Fuck-
--
It winds up with your clothes half off and his fingers buried inside of you as you lay on your side. You keep your mouth covered, or at least try to before he's ripping your hand from your mouth. Desperate to hear the way you whine his name, the way you look at him through your wet lashes as your body quivers with another orgasm.
Taken apart by his hand.
You cry out when his fingers keep pounding into you, knowing now to keep your eyes on his. You whimper when you see his other hand come up, holding his knife and pressing to your hip. But you mumble, "Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes, Michael, mark me, come on, baby. Yes, yes, yes-" Your mouth running so quickly, eagerly.
--
By the end of the trial, you gain a new scar. A sharp 'M' carved into your right hip. Not to mention how sore you feel after.
At least Michael will know you're not thinking of anyone else anytime soon.
____________
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Trans thought:
You know how in House of 1000 Corpses, Baby threatens to cut the one girls tits off. I would have let Baby do it. Like top surgery is expensive man.
I'ma just *slurps up the meal*
Call Me [read on ao3 or under the cut! ♡]
Pairing: Danny Johnson x Trans Masc reader (he/him pronouns)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: smut, very mild breeding kink, knifeplay, cock/cunt used to describe the reader’s junk
Length: 4676 words
“Fuck,” Danny grunted into the phone, his voice low and forced. From sound alone, you can tell how he’s holding himself. It doesn’t take much imagination to envision the way his jaw strained, his eyebrows pulled down in the middle. “Wanna slide right into that cunt, fuck. Know you’d be so wet, such a fucking slut for me.”
Historically speaking, you’ve never been into dirty talk. It always sounded stiff, the guy talking to you usually too unsure of himself to sound even remotely sexy. But god, did it feel different with Danny. His deep voice, the rough edge around each syllable, and the naturally monotone way he spoke has always been enough to drive you crazy, ever since the first ‘hello.’
“Maybe I’d suck on that pretty fucking cock too, gotta make sure my baby’s nice and hard before I fuck him, right?”
It’s easy to picture how he’d look, looking up at you with his dark, dilated eyes. Holding your gaze as he worked your cock in his mouth. You bite down on your lower lip, stifling a groan at the sparks of pain that follow.
The laugh that comes through the receiver is rough and hoarse, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. “Don’t hide from me, angel. I already know how much of a whore you are,” Another laugh rasps through. “Everyone knows how you act at the bar after a few drinks, fucking brat. Drooling for attention, dancing around like you’re asking for it. Giving a show to everyone.”
“Yours,” You gasp, your voice just a touch away from sounding desperate. It’s the truth, afterall, but Danny already knows it. You both know that he’s the only one you’d let touch you, the only one you want to touch you. “Just yours.”
“And don’t fucking forget it.” Danny’s voice drops into a growl, making you whimper. “I’m the only one who gets you like this. You’re fucking mine, baby. Mine and mine alone.”
Another gasp falls from your lips, nodding your head even though you know he can’t see. Your cock is hard and aching, but you move your fingers away from where you’ve been circling it, going lower and lower until you reach your entrance.
“Danny…” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for him to keep talking, to keep bringing you closer to the edge.
“You’ve got no idea how crazy it makes me to see how people look at you. Makes me wanna put a collar on you, fucking let everyone know who you belong to.” There’s a grunt from the other side of the phone, slick noises punctuating every breath Danny takes. “Or maybe the next time you wanna act like a whore, I’ll make you wear that little red dress in your closet. You know the one, don’t you?”
You groan out a noise of confirmation, chest swelling up when he hums in approval.
“I’ll bring you out to Walleyes with me after work, and I’ll fuck you in the bathroom. I know how dirty sluts like you want it, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to fill you up real good before sending you off to dance. Without your panties, of course. Gotta see if you can keep my come in without it dripping out. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know I would. Letting everyone know how fucking good I breed my baby.”
Your hole clenches around nothing, desperately seeking out something to fill it as Danny spews filth into your ear. Pretending it’s Danny, you slowly push in a single digit. It’s not nearly enough to satisfy, but that’s nothing you aren’t used to.
Adding another finger gives you a bit of a stretch, but it pales in comparison to how Danny’s fingers would feel. His hand dwarfs yours, his fingers long and thick and perfect for curling up at just the right angle.
“S’not enough.” You groan as you thrust into yourself, but it’s hardly a groan of pleasure.
“What’s not enough?”
“My fingers, it’s-” Another groan comes from your lips, but this time it’s filled with frustration. You’ve been pent up all day, even though you just saw Danny the night before. And yet you still can’t satisfy yourself. Not by yourself, anyway.
You know you could come in a matter of minutes if you really wanted to. From your fingers pressed against your cock. It’s how you usually get off, rubbing one out quickly. Rarely do you try and fuck yourself, only dipping down to collect some of your wet and use it to make your cock nice and slick to finish yourself off.
But those orgasms are bland. Fun, of course, but not what you really want. You want the thigh shaking, eye rolling, screaming orgasm that you know can only come from being properly fucked.
Little tears of frustration well up in your eyes as you adjust your hips, trying and failing to find a better angle. “It’s just not enough.”
“Baby,” Danny coos mockingly, his deep voice vibrating through the phone. “You don’t have anything else to fill you up? No toys?”
Your first instinct is to snap back at him, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue instead. It’s embarrassing, how needy you feel. But your desire’s rolling off of you in waves of heat, and it’s a thirst you can’t quench on your own.
“Don’t make fun of me,” You mumble, pressing the side of your face into your pillow. “S’not my fault…”
“Are you pouting?” Danny’s voice is a shade away from being more condescending than you can bear, his tone unlawfully sweet. You can tell he’s talking through a grin. “Fucking yourself while pouting? Fuck, angel. You’re too much.”
“You’re so mean to me,” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence, but it’s not from the way you're grinding your hips. The lump in your throat and the tears in your eyes don’t do anything but make you feel stupid, so fucking stupid that a part of you wants to hang up right then and there. As delicious as his voice is, you crave your boyfriend’s touch more than phone sex.
“Darling, are you crying?”
You sniffle, shaking your head. You’re too far gone, too lost in your head to realize he won’t be able to see you. After a moment, you hear Danny chuckle. It’s too much, your face is burning something fierce and you can’t handle anymore embarrassment. With a click, you hang up the phone, pulling your fingers out of yourself and cramming your face properly into the pillow.
A minute passes in silence, before you hear the sound of your phone trilling next to you. You pick it up before it can get to the second ring, fully ready to apologize for acting like such a baby. It was supposed to be a sexy thing, not something so dramatic.
“Danny?”
“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
You roll over, facing the ceiling with a pinched expression. “I-“
“I’ll be over in thirty.”
“Minutes?” You sit completely upright, clutching onto your phone like a vice.
“Be ready for me, Angel. ”
Your heart jolts in your chest when the line cuts out, and you immediately drop your phone back onto the receiver. You slap your hand over your face, covering up the grin that’s started to grow.
You didn’t expect Danny to be so… down? Especially so late at night, when he has work in the morning, nonetheless. Jumping off the bed, you rush to your dresser, grabbing the folded robe on top of it.
You slip your arms through the sleeves before turning to face the mirror, eyes darting across your body. It’s a simple little thing, something vintage and pretty that caught your eye when you were shopping for clothes a while back. It’s light blue, made from silky satin that hardly reaches your upper thighs and delicate white lace that kisses the hem of the fabric. You tie the robe shut at the small of your waist, looping the sash into a messy bow at the front.
There’s a knock at your door the second you finish looking yourself over, making you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise. You leave your bedroom in a rush, but as you pass by the living room to get to the front door, you pause. Licking your lips, you shoot a glance towards the grandfather clock. Hardly five minutes had passed since he called you.
There was no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place that fast. The excitement in your chest pops, deflating like a sad balloon as you approach the front door, leaning forward with your hands against the wood. When you look through the keyhole, you frown. There’s no one in sight.
“Probably just kids messing around…” You murmur, fiddling with sash at your waist.
But before you can turn away from the door, something leather slams over your mouth, and your cheek is being shoved up against the wood. You try to kick back at whoever grabbed you, but it’s no use. They have an iron grip, and all fighting back gets you is their front shoved against your back, holding you tight against the front door.
You can’t move your hands with the way they’ve been trapped between your body and the door, no matter how hard you struggle against it. They release your mouth, but you’re still too stunned to speak. It’s only then, when you feel the sharp end of a blade press against your thigh, that you realize how vulnerable you are.
“My boyfriend’s gonna be home any minute now.” You grit out as they put the tip of their knife against your sensitive inner thigh. They press hard, hard enough to break skin if you don’t open your legs wider, so you’re forced to move with it. “He’s big and tall and he’ll-“ You’re breath hitches as the person behind you trails the knife up, getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. “He’s a scary motherfucker and he’ll fucking kill you if you touch me!” Your voice breaks as you shout, and to your surprise, the person actually pulls the knife away.
The chuckle that comes next, low and familiar, surprises you as well.
“A ‘scary motherfucker’?” It’s Danny’s voice that greets you, his lips kissing the shell of your ear as he speaks. “Hmm. I guess I am.”
“Danny,” You breathe out, the fear leaving your body like a tidal wave. “What the fuck are you-“
One of his gloved hands cuts you off again before you can finish your sentence, pressing tight against your mouth. His other hand slides eagerly between your legs, slipping inside you without warning.
“You know I don’t like being hung up on.” His voice was far from what you were familiar with, low and grating in your ear. The laugh that follows it equally as foreign. “Ha… should’ve know that you’d get wet from that, fucking slut.”
Like you’re any better, you try to growl, but the leather trapping your mouth makes it impossible to speak, your words coming out in muffled irritation instead.
He laughs, kicking your legs further apart with one of his heavy boots. With a slick sound that makes you blush, he removes his fingers from your slit.
The zipper on his pants hardly makes a noise as he frees himself, but it’s enough to make you press back against him by instinct alone. He moves his hand away from your mouth, pressing his palm against your upper back instead, keeping you pinned to the wall.
You gasp out- something warm and hard pressing up against your entrance. He laughs as he slots his cock between your thighs, right up against your sex, dragging the head along your hardness.
“Danny,” You moan, arching your back and wiggling your hips, hoping to angle it just enough so that he slips inside of you. He’s never taken you like this before, even though you know he’s wanted to, and the rush of it nearly makes your head spin.
“Hmm?” He asks, voice terribly calm for the situation. “What is it? Do you wanna stop?” And just as easily as he started, he pulls back. Grunting a bit before the zipper on his pants is pulled back up. “C’mere.”
You want to cry all over again, so desperately close to getting what you need and yet so far all the same.
“I didn’t mean sto-“
You cut yourself off with a noise of surprise as he grabs you by the hair, pulling you around harshly and forcing you to face him. After he lets go, he takes a few steps back, leather boots thudding heavy against the wooden floor.
You open your mouth, but whatever words you want to say die on your tongue as he reaches out, touching your cheek. The back of his knuckles brush delicately against your cheekbone.
Your stomach does somersaults as he looks you over, taking your body in full. His hand moves down, tracing the outline of your waist through the robe. You can hardly feel his touch, but it makes you shiver all the same.
“I must be the luckiest guy,” Danny murmurs as he takes hold of the end of the bow tying your robe together, slowly pulling it until it comes undone. He lets your robe fall open, the night air cool on your front, and slips his hand inside the fabric to stroke your hip. “To have such a pretty baby.”
Your eyes flutter shut at the praise, but Danny doesn’t let it slide. He takes you by the chin, the pad of his gloved thumb stroking the skin under your lower lip.
“You know that, right?” He nods your head for you, gently tilting your head up and down. You open your eyes, brows slightly furrowed, only to meet his smile. “There we go, pretty thing. Always so ready for me… Always so good…”
You push up on your tiptoes, pressing yourself further into Danny’s touch. You don’t say a word as you slip your hands under his leather jacket, running along the fabric of his shirt before going under it as well. Your lips quirk up when you feel his abdomen tighten, straining with the muscle you already know is there. You trail one of your hands down, letting a stray finger hook into his belt loop.
“Rode all this way,” You murmur, ignoring the way your gut squirms with confusion. There’s no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place so fast, not even if he was speeding the whole way. “And you won’t even kiss me…”
Danny snorts, his hand turning tight on your hip, gripping you hard. “That’s all you want?” He leans down to press his lips against yours, so soft it makes your heart ache.
It’s the contrast with him. The push and pull. So hot and eager one minute, yet so cold and distant the next. But his lips are sweet and kind against yours, and you can’t bring yourself to pick at the scabs of question that litter your relationship with him.
When he pulls back, his voice is rough against your mouth, lips moving like butterfly kisses against yours. “Just one kiss?”
You unzip his jeans in response, nipping at his lower lip when he chuckles.
“Mmhm. That’s what I thought.”
In a quick motion, Danny wraps one arm under your thigh and the other tight around your waist, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. You nearly yelp at him, your hands slipping out from under his shirt. Before you have the chance to respond, he has your back pressed up against the door once again.
He kisses you with ferocity you’ve never felt from another. Licking into your open mouth, he waits for you to moan before biting down on your lower lip. You grab a fistful of his hair, yanking down when he sinks his teeth down into it again.
Danny works his way down from your lips, sucking dark bruises on your neck and jawline. You gasp and let go of his hair, grabbing onto the back of his neck instead.
“Danny,” You try to speak but the second you start, he’s biting down hard. Right under your jawline, where he knows you’re most sensitive, making you melt into a gasping mess.
He pulls back by a fraction, leaving his lips to rest against the mark he’s made. You can feel the smile on his lips when he speaks, low and so gravely that you swear you can feel it thrumming through your throat. “What was that?”
You laugh, something that starts out soft but turns breathless once he replaces his lips with his tongue. “Choke me,” You rush, as if you’re worried you might forget if he keeps going. The tongue on your neck disappears, and doubt flashes in your mind. “If you want.” You clarify, just as fast. “You can if you want, I mean. I… I don’t mind.”
“Is that right, baby? You don’t mind?”
You nod your head as he adjusts his hips, keeping you stable against the wall so he can pull away from your neck. The look on his face is diabolical, and if you weren’t being held up you’re sure it would be enough to send you to your knees.
“Wanna know what I think?”
You lick over your kiss-bitten lips and nod.
“I think my baby’s a fucking freak.” His hand goes around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure. You press into the touch, exhaling through your nose. Your cheeks are on fire, butterflies batting their wings in your stomach.
“I just... I-” Your stammer is cut off by the hand on your throat tightening, stopping the words before they can fall from your tongue.
Your eyes widen as Danny leans in, propping up his thigh to keep you up against the wall. His hand slides down then, squeezing the inner of your upper thigh. You know where he’s going, and let out a shaky exhale, wrapping your legs tighter around him in anticipation. When he touches you, you bite your lower lip.
“You’re still dripping,” Danny sing-songs, dragging two fingers through your folds. He avoids your cock, but just him touching you is enough for you to groan. “I’d say you’re even more wet now.”
Your eyes bulge as he flexes his arm muscles, the veins on his forearm straining from the pressure. The ease at which he can cut off your breath should scare you, but all you can process is the heavy, humid heat that’s filling up your mind. You don’t struggle for breath, you don’t need to yet, but you do open your mouth when he squeezes even tighter.
“It’s so hot,” He groans, pressing forward until his arm is trapped between both of your chests, and his mouth is panting against your ear. “Feeling how bad you need me,”
If his fist wasn’t wrapped around your throat, you would’ve whined. You can feel his heavy puffs of air on the side of your face, and how his chest moves with every ragged breath. You tilt your hips up, trying to get him to move his fingers down. You’ve been waiting so long, and all you want is to feel him inside you. But he just chuckles, presses closer, stilling your hips.
“Desperate,” Danny rasps. “Fucking slut, can’t come unless I’m inside you?”
Your cheeks burn, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You’re nearly spaced out, your head beginning to spin from the lack of oxygen.
“So fucking wet for it, so wet for me,” He inhales shakily, like he’s trying to pull himself together, before letting you breathe again.
You suck in a deep breath, head spinning from the sudden rush of oxygen. He keeps his hand on your throat, not tight enough to choke, but just enough to serve as a reminder of what he could do. Danny presses further up against you, crushing you into the door as he slips a digit inside your heat.
“Oh,” You groan as he adds another, curling them upwards as his thumb starts to massage your cock. “Danny,”
He doesn’t respond, too far gone to speak as he watches you. His eyes are dark and open wide, with an unfamiliar, wild glint in them. The way he works you feels the same, rough and fast, almost in time with his heavy pants.
“You’re driving me crazy,” He grunts, squeezing your neck. “Having you like this-” he cuts himself off with a deep inhale before pulling out completely.
Before you have the time to complain, he’s grabbing you by the hips again, walking a few feet over to the kitchen table, and slamming you down onto it. Your back thuds when it hits the old wood, your eyes wide with shock. He shoves your legs apart, grabbing you by the thighs so he can drag you closer to him.
The skillful way he unbuckles and unzips his pants could almost seem calm if it wasn’t betrayed by the near frantic look in his eyes. He only gets his jeans undone enough to pull his cock out before grabbing you again, pulling until your ass is almost hanging over the table, and thrusting into you.
You can’t be embarrassed by the noise he drags from your throat, something high and strangled and fuck, you know that if it wasn’t for him stretching you out before, he’s big enough that it would’ve hurt. He doesn’t speak as he thrusts, fucking you as you’ve never been fucked before. He’s like a man on the brink, his hands gripping you hard enough to leave bruises.
There’s a moan stuck in your throat, some words too. An assortment of garbled sentences, but each thrust punches them right out until you’re being pounded into a whining, half-crying mess. He’s hitting all the right places, angling his hips just right, and slamming into you until you see stars.
It’s only after you get close, your thighs shaking and straining with the effort, that Danny grabs your throat, squeezing hard as he slows down his thrusts. “If I had my way, I’d keep you like this all the time.”
You swallow back another moan, your eyes still wide when they meet his.
“So wet and open, like you were fucking made for me.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, hard and slow. His hand turns to a fist, cutting off your airflow. “Gonna give you what you need, gonna take good care of my baby,” Danny moves his hand from your thigh to your waist, ghosting over your stomach. “And if you’re good, I might even fuck one into you.”
Your back arches as you come, his words are all you need to go right over the edge. Black ebbs away at your vision as Danny fucks you through it, hard and fast, choking you as you writhe on his cock. He’s set the pace now, and keeps it steady even as you come back down into your body. It’s nearly too much, but you can’t find the strength to articulate your words.
His hand leaves your throat, but only to trail down your chest, moving to your navel. His fingers find your cock easily, and you yelp in some sort of mix between pain and pleasure. It’s too much, and you arch your back off the table, shimming your hips, doing anything to escape his touch. It’s fire, his touch. Blinding, painful, but so damn hot you can’t help but crave more.
It lasts for years, the constant mix between pain and pleasure. The digit on your cock only lets up once Danny’s breathing turns to pants, sweat beading on his forehead. His hips stutter, slowing down for a moment before gripping your hips with a sudden, newfound intensity. Your skin pales where he’s applied pressure, slamming you down hard onto his cock.
“Angel,” Danny groans, fucking into you once, twice, three times. He comes with a growl, his eyes never shutting as he rides out his pleasure.
There’s a whine in your throat, spilling from your lips just as he fills you up. You’ve never done this without a condom before, but now that you have, you don’t know how you could ever go back to wrapping it up. He leans back, still inside you, catching his breath. Sucking in greedy lungfuls as you watch, your chest heaving with the same intensity.
When he moves to pull out, you grab both of his wrists, not giving him the option of letting go of your hips.
“Wait,” You murmur, pulling him in closer. There’s no real strength behind it, but Danny humors you all the same. You bring one of his hands up to your cheek and nuzzle into it, peppering a few light kisses on his knuckles.
He leans forward, and you kiss him softly, both of you smiling into it. You free his hands, having gotten what you wanted, and he moves them to trail down your chest, caressing your sides. He leaves one to rest on your belly, the other one moving to the side of your neck.
“You really liked that, huh?” Danny asks quietly, his voice a low whisper against your skin.
“Shut up.”
He huffs, kissing the side of your head in what you can tell is exasperation.
A part of you wishes you could stay like this forever. It makes you feel safe, having Danny surrounding you so fully. It makes you feel loved. But the smarter part of you knows that he has to be up at six tomorrow morning, and you don’t know if he’ll stay once you fall asleep. If you’re already in the bedroom, clinging to him under the covers, he’ll stay the night. But if you doze off on the kitchen table, you know he’ll only tuck you into bed before leaving.
“Bed?” You ask, looking up at Danny with half lidded eyes. You can feel the fondness in his gaze as he stares down at you, waiting a few seconds before nodding.
“Yeah baby. C’mere.”
His hands are gentle as they slide over your body, and you have to stop him before he can try and carry you himself.
“I can walk, you know. I’m not gonna break.” You try to chastise, but a smile breaks through your facade. He grins back, lips spreading to reveal teeth, sharp and as deadly as ever. But his lips are soft, plush against your skin and gentle in a way that is too hard for your muddled mind to try and describe. “You know that first hand.”
Danny slips his arms around you once more, chuckling softly against your skin. “I sure do.” He leans up, taking you into his arms as he straightens out his body. “It’ll take a lot more to break you, darling. I know that first hand.”
He carries you to bed with your face tucked into the crook of his neck and your arms slung loosely around his shoulders, and he only needs one arm to pull back the sheets, keeping the other around your waist, before laying you down and tucking you in.
“Stay?” The space between your thighs is sore, and your voice is hoarse from his hand wrapped around your neck. But you amplify it just a bit, making your voice a bit more gravely than it ought to. You have to stay. you’re trying to convey. Look what you’ve done to me, you can’t just leave me like this.
He shucks off his jeans and jacket before slipping in beside you. Warming your bed like he has all the times before, with his arms around you and his face buried in your hair.
You shut your eyes to the sound of him murmuring, and even though you can’t quite hear what he’s saying, you repeat the words back on instinct.
“Love you too, Danny. Love you forever.”
Sweetness of little space, need more of this that isn't being sexualized. Might write some, as I have a Poly!Ghostface in the making
‘Movie Night’ !SFW! Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader
Contains: Little Space Comfort, Brahms in Little Space
Requested by Anonymous on Wattpad
“Of course Mrs. Heelshire. Enjoy your night!” you called as you watched the old couple happily get into a car from the front steps of their home. You couldn’t deny that the couple had been looking much happier as opposed to when you first arrived.
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Brahms always has a soft spot in my heart
Brahms x Gender Neutral Reader - Will You Stay With Me?
A lil something I wanted to write after seeing a prompt on this site where the OP wondered what would have happened if Brahms showed himself by accident because he was so sick (if you know the post, pls tag the OP cause I can’t seem to find it,
title from the song Jordy Chandra - Will You Stay With Me ?
Hope you enjoy!
You have been babysitting Brahms the Doll for around three months now. Of course, in the beginning it was strange to treat the doll like a human child, but the sad eyes of the Heelshires pulled at your heart strings. Not wanting to take advantage of the grieving couple, you swore to treat Brahms like your own.
It was a rough start admittedly, with his cold dead eyes creeping you out. You didn’t really try very hard to stick to the schedule the Heelshires left for you, but when your things started going missing and the doll started moving on its own, you began to suspect that maybe you weren’t alone in the house.
The temperature dropped significantly in the winter months, and due to not being allowed to light the fireplace, the entire manor was freezing. Luckily you packed some warmer clothes since you knew the UK got very cold in the winter. There weren’t any issues with plumbing or anything thankfully, but you did spend most of your time wrapped in as many layers as you possibly could.
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*slurps* I would love this to happen, but but not a complete stranger
Hiya! I read your recent Pinhead one-shot and adored it, your writing is so good. Can I request a Ghostface NSFW one-shot where he call’s his next victim but she happens to be masturbating? And they end up having phone sex. I would really appreciate it and if you do please let me know if you take payment or even if I can give you a tip! <3
Oh my gosh thank you so much! I actually gasped when I read this request, I fucking love this idea I hope I did it justice lol. I still get kinda insecure when writing smut even though I've read some not-so-great erotica and still be turned on by it so does it matter? Either way, practice is practice haha.
delicious (nsfw, 18+)
danny johnson x reader | warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, degradation, | note: the title comes from the charli xcx song, somehow not a tswift song for once! | word count: 1.8k
Perhaps your mother had been right in not allowing you to have a phone in your bedroom growing up.
But perhaps it was that very same denial that made you determined to have one in your room when you lived on your own, living out a childhood dream of being able to chat to friends on your own phone in your own room. Not that it got much use, with you rarely being home enough to answer calls and it being even rarer for your friends to even bother calling.
The phone became more like a bedside decoration than serving any real functional purpose in your life, except for when you wanted to call in sick to work or order takeout from the comfort of your own bed. You forgot, it seemed, that phones could actually be kind of a nuisance.
It had been a slow week of long hours at your work, and every class you took seemed to have major assignments due within the past three days. You could’ve cried from relief when you finally got home and had the freedom of the weekend in front of you. You didn’t envy the students pouring their way into parties and bars, though you might have felt a twinge of nostalgia for when you were one of them.
But just because you weren’t going out didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the rest of your night and have some fun with yourself. Once you were out of your work clothes and into your chosen sleepwear for the night (which was simply a big t-shirt), you plopped onto your bed, all the stress and tension leaving your body as soon as you hit the soft surface.
You roll over onto your back, lazily running your hand down your body. You don’t waste time messing with your chest, instead moving directly to your underwear, slipping your hand inside. There was no need to tease yourself, after all.
You had just begun to slowly circle your clit, feeling a bit more sensitive than usual, when the phone started ringing.
Your eyes snapped open, hand still in your underwear. At first, you barely recognized the sound of it, only knowing that the piercing tones had interrupted your alone time. But once your tired and horny brain fog cleared- if just slightly- you glared over at your bedside table.
From where you were laying, you could see the caller ID display, though it only provided you with “UNKNOWN CALLER” on the tiny green screen. You shifted your gaze slightly to your alarm clock, which dimly displayed 11:37 PM. That’s a bit late for a salesperson to call, and your friends would have been announced through the ID display, had they decided to call this late.
Ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach and the nagging itching in the back of your brain to remember something you saw in passing on a newspaper at the store, you waited for the phone’s ringing to end.
Settling back in, you slowly get back into the proper headspace for touching yourself, resuming your slow movements. You wanted to both take it slow tonight and really enjoy it, and seek your pleasure as fast as possible, needing the release it promised after the week you’ve had.
As a compromise between the two desires, you started to pick up the pace, feeling yourself get slightly wetter from your touch.
The phone rings again.
You curse, this time sitting up and snatching the phone off the hook, but not before seeing that this, too, was from an unknown caller (likely the same one from before, you thought in the back of your mind).
“What?” Normally you would never answer the phone this way, but it was way past decent calling times, and you were fucking tired.
But in response, there was nothing. You were starting to wonder if you had somehow not picked up the phone in time for the call to go through when you realized you could faintly hear someone breathing on the other end.
Great.
One of these calls.
You were hardly ever in the mood to deal with prank calls, let alone when you were just trying to destress after a long, exhausting week. You just wanted a fucking break.
“Listen, asshole-”
“I can see you.”
You manage to catch yourself before you’re able to vocally react, instead somehow calmly looking over at your window. The blinds are shut. You don’t doubt that someone, if determined enough, could find a way to peek inside, but you doubted that the man on the phone was that pervert.
“Liar.”
On the other end, the man lets out a chuckle. And you realize, despite yourself, that his voice is kinda attractive, at least for a creep.
“Made you look.”
Scratch that. Very attractive.
Biting your lip, you lay back down, the horny side of your brain pushing you to start your movements again. You have no plan- ideally he would hang up and you would be able to fully indulge yourself, but as the seconds pass without the telltale click of the line being cut you figure this won’t happen.
“What do you want, weirdo?” You can’t help but throw the insult in, figuring he deserves it for interrupting you twice. Not that he knew he was doing it, but either way it didn't matter to you.
“You wound me.” His voice is deep and expressive, and you are definitely getting wetter listening to him speak.
“Good.” You chuckle, but it’s breathless in the way that only someone who was currently masturbating (as you were) would sound.
He’s silent for a moment, and you begin to pick up your pace, adding pressure to your movements, the occasional jolt of pleasure running through your body distracting you from the fact that it was definitely louder than you realized.
“Are you fucking yourself right now?” He doesn’t sound offended (thank goodness), but he does sound confused. You, on the other hand, are suddenly too mortified to examine his tone and you only realize this fact after.
“Shit!” You pull the phone away from your face, as if that lessens the impact of the fact that you were just caught masturbating by a stranger. “I’m sorry, fuck-”
“No- keep going.”
You definitely did not hear that right. You put the phone back to your ear.
“I’m sorry? No-”
“I said, keep going.” Oh boy. If his voice was attractive before when he was just casually talking with you, it didn’t compare to how hot it was when he gave you a command. “You had no problem being a slut before, so you shouldn’t have one now.”
“I- okay. I just feel awkward now.” All of the bravado you felt earlier had quickly dissipated once you were caught.
He hums on the other end of the line and you wait impatiently for his response.
“Would it help if I told you what to do?”
This was certainly not how you had anticipated your night ending up, but you weren’t complaining. How often would you get the chance to have consequence-free phone sex with a complete stranger?
This could very well be the only time in your entire life you would have this thrilling opportunity, and you weren’t going to let it pass you by.
“I think so.” You could hear the man getting comfortable, the rustling of fabric faint in the background on his end. You wondered if it was him getting his cock out.
“Are you still touching yourself?”
“...Yes.” You’d slowed down after you’d been caught, but never fully stopped.
“Play with your clit for me.”
“O-okay.” It was a simple and vague instruction, but something that you could quickly comply with, given that your hand had barely moved from its earlier position. You resumed stroking it, noticing that you had gotten significantly wetter since you’d first picked up the phone. Not quite dripping, but enough to signify that you were definitely turned on by the situation you had found yourself in.
“Good girl.”
Fuck. Your hips jerked at the praise, and you bit your lip to hide your moan. But you clearly didn’t do a good job of it, because the man on the other end chuckled, the sound once again going straight to your pussy.
“Oh, did you like that?”
“Y-yes.” If you were of sound mind you would be embarrassed by how quickly this man had managed to reduce you to the stuttering mess you were now.
“Put the phone on speaker, and don’t even think about holding back any of those little noises.” You rush to comply, fumbling slightly with controlling your non-dominant hand.
“Done.”
“Good. Close your eyes.”
“...Okay.”
“Are you still touching your clit?” You hum in response.
“Just how fucking wet are you right now?”
You gasped, rhythm faltering. “Very.” Your voice is breathy, shaking as you stumble over the single word. “Fuck, please tell me something- anything. Wanna hear what you want.”
“Yeah?” You can now hear the distinct noise of him jerking off on the other end, and you’re certain he must be able to hear the sloppy noise your own movements are creating. “I wanna to fuck you so hard you won’t be walk right for a week, every movement you make a reminder of how much I fucking own you. You’re mine, got that? My little slut, just a fuck toy for me to fill up.”
You shuddered, turning your head against your pillow.
“You want that, want me to fill you up?”
“Yes, please, I want your cum, oh my god,” you’re mumbling, words you don’t truly mean but your brain is far too gone to think about the things you’re saying.
Plus, he’s just a stranger, someone you’ll never meet. You can say whatever you want, it doesn’t even matter.
“I wanna make you cum on my cock, feel your tight little pussy around me-fuck,” You wished, briefly, you knew what he looked like, so you could properly imagine him fisting his cock, the muscles in his arm straining as he made himself go faster, chasing his release.
“I want it, I want it, please,” You were just saying the same thing over and over again, too close to your climax to think of anything sexier to say.
“Are you gonna cum?” His voice was strained, almost muttered out.
“Yes, yes- please I need it, fuck-”
“Then do it. Cum for me like a good little girl.”
And with his permission, you comply, continuing your litany of curses and pleas as your back arches, your orgasm crashing through your body. Gasping, eyes and mouth open, continuing to touch yourself until your body screamed at you to stop from the overstimulation on your clit.
On his end, he lets out a long, low groan as he reaches his climax in the midst of your own. In the back of your mind you wish you were more present to fully enjoy the noise he’s made, to revel in the fact that you did that to a total stranger.
Once you both have come back down from your high, the line is silent. You have no idea what to say, how to even continue a conversation from here. For a moment you contemplate just hanging up and going to sleep, but he beats you to the chase with a line that turns your racing blood to ice.
“See you soon.”
___
ao3 link | part two