I May Be Masc, But I Would Allow Them

I may be masc, but I would allow them

How would they be in marshmallow hell? It's funny to imagine😂 and reader just does it alot especially when they get back and they miss them

Omg I never knew about this term until you mentioned it hahaha, this was very fun to make 😂

Here we go! ✨✨✨

Nothing is better for Mikey than having a good "bath" 😏 and snuggling with you before sleep, after a long killing spring ☺️💕

Brahms loves to bury his face in you chest, whenever you go out of the house, he do this in any occasion actually 😆, Brahms is baby and needs all you attention 😂

Tommy was in the basement all day, the only thing he was thinking is in hugging you and cuddle with you, don't make him wait Y/N 🥺💕💕

Bubba gets all tired from working all day, the only he wants is to cuddle with you buried in you soft chest 🥰, the best thing in the world!... meanwhile it last 😆

Jason is always ready to watch movies with you when he came from "working" on the forest, hug him tight because you two gonna watch scary movies all night🤣

I need more-

Gentle Touch

Brahms Heelshire x M!Reader

Last Edited: June 16, 2021 11:00 PM

TW: slight praising

Anon: I love your fics so much, could i request a brahms x male reader where y/n has usher syndrome? y/n being deaf–blind and being the older brother of brahm's nanny, maybe moves with her for the job, and gains the attention of brahms? really need some bromantic fluff <33

Tags: none

You loved Erla, you really did, but there were times when she annoyed you. You couldn’t blame her for trying to help you constantly but it really got on your nerves. She was always treating you like you were glass; some fine china that needed to be cared for every second of the day. It was why you didn’t want to go with her to the UK. You had known that she would keep you attached to her hip at all times but at the same time, there was Dündar. Dear ol’ Dündar. An abusive asshole is who he was and is. You hated his guts more than anyone else’s. You guessed you could say that going to the UK was a new start; a new start for both of you.

You have been staying at the Heelshire mansion for a while; maybe 6 months now? You were unsure since you couldn’t really tell the time or know what day it was due to your condition. Well, you would know if Erla was to tell you. Though she never told you anything. All she ever did was lead you around or leave you alone to your own world.

From what little information you knew, you were with Erla in the UK and babysitting a child. Or... Well… A small porcelain child replaced the dead child. Either way, you didn’t mind. A porcelain doll wouldn’t run around you, make fun of the Usher Syndrome, or try to ask you questions about it when you could only answer them through braille and sign language; you doubted the child would have even known those two.

You had hearing aids but you didn’t use them all the time. You only used them to listen to music or to listen to the television. You don’t keep them in all the time since you don’t really want to. Well, it’s more of the fact that Erla’s voice is high pitched and slightly annoying, not saying everyone’s voice like that is but her’s is just terrible. You’d rather sign and read braille than hear her talk. You had to put in your hearing aids when you met the Heelshires but you enjoyed their voices. They were a lot better than your younger sister’s.

The story about losing their son was sad but replacing him with a doll? It was slightly uncomfortable. Erla had no problem about it though. The moment the Heelshires left, she ditched the doll and did her own thing. You didn’t want to leave the doll though. You couldn’t really do most of what needed to be done, but you could keep it with you. Besides, the little fellow felt cute, despite being made of cold porcelain and being slightly heavy.

Maybe that’s why the man in the walls was attracted to you. You kept the doll with you and tried your best to follow whatever rules you could. Today was the rare occasion you had your hearing aids in. You weren’t listening to the television or listening to music. You wanted to listen to your footsteps, the random creaks from inside the walls, and the distant sounds of Erla talking on the phone with her significant other. You didn’t care who they were, just as long as they made her happy. You are her older brother, and who are you to deny her any happiness? Besides, you can’t be stuck with her forever.

The doll keeps you company as you walk around the mansion. You have no destination in mind as you walk into a room. With how cold the room is, you already know it’s the kitchen. You place the doll down on a chair, gently tucking the chair in. Despite not being able to see, you can still feel, smell, and taste. And that’s all you need when you cook. You start getting your ingredients; you feel and smell every ingredient you grab, making sure it’s the one you want. When you’ve collected all your ingredients, you start to make dinner.

It’s a small dinner with a basic fruit salad and spaghetti with meatballs. You prepare everything with gentle hands, making sure that when you cut the fruit into smaller pieces, you don’t accidentally nick yourself. The salad is the first thing you finish before moving on to the spaghetti. You keep in mind to make enough for three people: you, Erla, and Brahms.

You hear the walls creak again, but you may not mind it. That is until you hear something opening. You don’t look up though and pretend you didn’t hear anything. You can hear quiet footsteps approaching you from behind. Despite how quiet they are, you can tell that the person must be heavy or at least tall; maybe even both. Their breathing seems to be heavy as they approach you.

You keep busy, not leaving the other person know you know about them being there. You freeze up when you feel a Gentle Touch on your hip. You don’t move away though, leading to the person slowly wrapping around your waist. “[Redacted]?” You hear a boy’s voice behind, not matching the large figure that is now pressed against you. “[Redacted]... I finally get to touch you… [Redacted]...” The voice sounds like the one on the phone. Or the one Erla has told you about. You never answer the phone since you never seem to have your hearing aids in when the calls happen. You give him a small hum of acknowledgment, unsure of who he is. Your answer is soon answered by the man.

“Do you like little me? Mommy said he was always so perfect…” You feel a mask(?) told the top of your head. It’s cold and sends a small shiver down your spine. You don’t want to anger him so you simply shake your head. “No..? Does that mean you like me more?” The boy voice being used slightly unsettles you but you’re sure there’s a reason for it; there’s always a reason for everything. You give him a nod as you finish up dinner.

“I knew you were the one… Mommy and Daddy said she was but I hate her. She doesn’t listen to the rules… But you try… You try to,” You hear him take in a deep inhale, his made face still buried in your hair. “You even make me meals, [Redacted]... You’re such a good boy… A nice boy… My beautiful boy…” He sighs out, the child voice still not fitting with his words. His arm around your waist tightens before he seems to force himself to let go. “Be good and don’t tell Erla about this…” You hear a plate and bowl be taken off the counter before his footsteps fade away.

“So! What’s for dinner, [Redacted]? Smells nice!” Erla says suddenly, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, making you flinch.

The ending was perfect *chef kiss*

Honestly it fits so well

Not so innocently

Poly! Billy and Stu x Male Reader

masterlist

AU; Where Billy and Stu haven't died at the end of Scream and Sidney come to a haunting realisation.

The night, to say it vaguely kindly, had been a turbulent one—sort of messy even—that was for sure.

Sidney felt as if she had either run a marathon or swimming through a endless pool—where she was constantly being weighed down—both being a exhausting doing. If did done such thing, but she hadn't, it simply only feels like it.

Running, dodging knives and fighting for her own survival against someone, she saw as a friend—love interest even, but only minimal on a level of having a silly crush—someone she trust, was not something to remotely be compared to running a marathon or the such.

Those are completely different things to do and while the both give the same kind of adrenaline and emotional feeling, they still differ in their very own way against another.

You could say; One of those task sparks a fiercely joy in you, while the other does not.

The blinking lights, be it red or blue or both even, were like a flashing which hurts her eyes, giving her pounding start of a headache.

Sidney was there physically but not mentally. Her mind going rabbit holes, backt to what happen during the last few hours of the night or early morning—whatever seemed more fit now, in terms of time.

The paramedics were treating her wounds. Giving a new burning sensation of strings once more, whenever they disinfecting or bandage it up. She couldn't help herself but to wince from. Sidney blinked, focusing back to her very surroundings as she gives the officers in front of her a confused glance.

«Miss Prescott, we asked if you're sure Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are the murders. Both boys had been injured as well, just as servers as you are. There is also a report of witnesses, saying they saw Ghostface killing Mr.Finchglee in front of his sweets shop.»

«So, we're asking again, to testify, are you absolutely certain it was them?»

Of course. Of course the police wouldn't believe her, a surviving victim of a murderous psychotic blood chase.

Billy and Stu are two clever boys, they know what they have to do, what they can do. Their having plans and backup plans, in case something like this—her survival—would happen.

They know how to master their Ghostface act and game perfectly.

Sidney only nodded, not trusting her voice—fearing it would crack from how hoarse it was, breathtaking screaming she did all night long—and she wouldn't be able to form proper sentences at all anymore, tongue numb and heavy weight in her mouth.

The officer just sighed, leaving her be when one of the paramedics chastised them away, for hindering their work of first aid.

They would have to question her again anyways in the next few days and Sidney wouldn't straight out say that the police in Woodsboro is fatally bad, but, they could've been far better in their job.

Taking a deep intake of the fresh chilly air, Sidney glanced ahead, admiring the trees. Leaves already turning into the brownish colours and with the upcoming sunrise, a pretty sight. Something so mundane, was calming for her troublesome mind.

Then she saw it, no. She saw them.

Billy and Stu standing by the trees in all their, bloody, glory. Patched up but the dried blood still present on their clothes. Just a few meters of walk away from her. Near enough to see their faces clearly, but far to not hear what they say to each other.

Sidney shallowed hard. Taking a sharp intake of breath. Heart thumping in her chest.

Fuck.

Stu leaned against Billy, arm causally as always slung over his shoulders, flashing her that silly boyish smile. Billy stood there, arms just a bit crossed, lopsided grin on his lips, head tilted to the side.

Billy was mocking her.

Tears begun to brim in Sidneys eyes, a slight burning to it. Trying to blink them away.

One try. One fucking chance of a try she had. To end it all, this absolute madness and all but in the end, Sidney failed miserably.

And then, when you came jogging towards them, clothed in nothing more than shorts and a oversized shirt, Sidney wanted to gag right here and now.

You acting so lovely with them— Billy holding your waist, pulling you towards him and kissing you—was like adding salt and vinegar to her wounds. How naïve could a human, could you, be?

Aren't the signs obvious enough already? Are you so blind with love, that you're not able see it? To think logically at all?

Billy and Stu are Killers! They are both Ghostface!

How can someone innocently and pure, like you, be in love—in a romantic relationship—with two absolute insane maddening killers?

Sidney felt like a crying now.

~~~

You came jogging towards Billy and Stu, letting them catch you as you didn't stop your speed and engulfed them into a hug. They might could disappear within the next second and to simply feel them; their bodies, their breathing and heartbeats, was like a anchorage for your mind—which fills itself with ever so rising anxiety.

Billy's grin turned into a more gentle one, taking his focus away from Sidney and giving you all his attention.

He leaned down, close enough to your lips to pull them with his teeth and nibbling on them. Giving you sweet long kiss, till your lips were slightly swollen.

You laid your head on Billy's shoulder, Stu hugging you two from behind placing his chin onto your heads.

«I still think we should have killed her.» said Billy, still a bit pissy about it. Sidney's death would have been the cherry on top of the delightful blood spree.

«No~ Letting her live is a far more better –»

«Why?» Stu interrupted you with his questions,

«Because, Stu honey, it is more fun to let your prey live. Ya know, playing with her pretty little mind, making her trap in it till she can't feel safe anywhere anymore without hearing our voices. It's a haunting she can't escape without turning mad herself. Perhaps we bring her into a suicide even.» a chuckle leaving your lips, eyes twinkling with glee, just thinking about it brought you delight and you start to hum a song.

«Aren't you a adorable little sadistic babe,» Billy pecked your cheek, finding a liking to your idea.

«Only sometimes.» you mused. Gripping Billys and Stus hand a bit tighter. Only sometimes you agreed with yourself.

You had almost lost your boyfriends tonight. If you hadn't switched out the patrons in the pistole, Sidney would have shot them dead without remorseful mercy. You couldn't let that happen.

«You did planned something else too, didn't you?» asked Stu, bending down just a bit to nuzzle his face into your neck. Patting his head.

«I did, I did, a little head start, something which add a certain aesthetic to it.»

You gave Sidney a smile.

~~~

Sidney's ears picked up a sound, it wasn't overall loud, just faint enough to understand it. When Sidney could clearly heard it, after straining her hearing, she never had whipped her head faster around. Scaring some of the poor paramedics.

I'm still standing, yeah yeah yeah.

Looking like a true survivor!

And I'm still standin' after all this time.

Sidney saw your smile. A smile which didn't looked so innocently at all anymore. With the rising sun, it looked more of a devilish sinister one.

And dear god. The song which was being played from whatever Car radio, was like a cruel joke. A mishap of fate.

Sidney didn't stop the tears. Having come to the bitter realisation that you are one of them. Your also a killer, just as insane as Billy an Stu.

A true survivor is what you are indeed.

I'm tired from packing, but I need my meals *slurps*

*ugly crying* would you ever consider giving the phone sex with danny fic a part two? 👉👈 the smut was lovely but also I'm obsessed with the 'oh shit' reaction at the end. If it's not something you'd be interested in, then just take this as me singing your praises, I love your stuff sm

Thank you!!!!! I’ve left this sitting in my inbox because I definitely wanted to continue it, but I was waiting for inspiration to hit (and it did lol). A few people have asked for a continuation of this one, so I’m fine with doing that!! I almost made this more plot-heavy but decided against it because I'd rather use those ideas for another fic!

delicious: pt. II (18+)

danny johnson x reader | warnings: explicit, slight dub-con but it's standard fare for horror fic | notes: my stupid glove kink TM shows up once again. | word count: 2405

part one

You were not one to obsessively look over your shoulder. Under normal circumstances you hated to give in to paranoia. Even if there was a serial killer roaming your town, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of letting it get to you. That’s just giving him what he wants, right? He’ll never know that this was your approach to his reign of terror, but at least it made you feel better. Well, until you maybe had phone sex with him (the fact that you hadn’t really considered that maybe the person on the other end of the phone call was that serial killer astonished you but then again, you had been a bit preoccupied that night).

“See you soon.”

It was likely an empty threat, right? Just something to unnerve you, given the climate of fear that had gripped the town. Nothing more. There was no evidence that he did this with anyone else (but then again, who else would masturbate to a threatening phone call?)

You felt stuck in your mind, going in circles of ‘what-if’s and ‘why-me’s. Every day since the phone call felt like you had been going through the motions, on edge and ready to run at any sudden movement. It was maddening but in a way, you felt like you deserved it for not being hypervigilant enough.

It’s been two days since the phone call, and you sat in your car staring at your building. You were going to have to get out of the car at some point, but being alone in your apartment didn’t seem appealing to you anymore. It was no longer your safe haven. It was now a trap and every single time you opened the door you felt like you were about to spring it on you.

Like you were being toyed with.

Sighing, you yank the keys out of the ignition, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. Making sure the other doors were locked, you slipped out of the car, locking the door behind you. The streetlamp buzzed above you as you hurried up the stairs, eager to get out of the cold but hesitant to enter your apartment. At least, you reasoned with yourself, you were safer inside than out, right?

You almost tripped over the trash bag your neighbor had put outside of their door, apparently too lazy to take it to the dumpster. Veering around it and rolling your eyes, you hurriedly unlocked your door. You tried not to breathe a sigh of relief when you discovered it was, indeed, still locked.

After entering you kicked the door to your apartment shut, wincing as it slammed harder than you had intended. Exhaling loudly, you lean against the door, eyes closed, trying to will yourself into believing you were just having a bad week. That it was just another day of doing work that you were certainly overqualified for and there was no other reason for your frayed nerves.

You were exhausted and bordering on burnt out. Add the stress of a serial killer on the prowl, possibly coming after you, and your mind was a constant hazy mess. The only thing cutting through the haze was the hope that that call had just been a prank. But you couldn’t make yourself believe it.

You lazily toss your bag onto the already cluttered kitchen table, plopping into a chair. You’d have to make food soon. But all you wanted to do was sit there until you decided it was time to sleep.

And then, like your life was a cliche filled horror movie, the phone rang.

You had moved the phone out of your bedroom following the… incident. You weren’t sure whether you moved it due to fear or embarrassment, either way it was no longer in your room and now sat on your kitchen counter, always looming ominously in your periphery as you cooked.

But now you stared at it from your chair, watching as it rang and rang and rang. You were afraid to pick it up, but you were afraid of what might happen if you didn’t. Finally, the fear built up and you lunged to the phone, practically knocking it off the hook with the force you moved to it. Placing the receiver by your ear, you did your best to sound braver than you felt. Maybe if you just pretended it was a friend, you could play off the fact that your heart was racing and you were dizzy with fear.

“Hello?”

Nothing on the other end. It was like a cruel replay of the last call you got on this phone. But you couldn’t even hear breathing on the other end, just silence. Your brave facade dissipated and you meekly whispered into the phone.

“...Hi?”

The click of the phone being hung up rings through your ears. But it takes you a few more seconds to find the strength to hang up your own end, listening to the monotonous dial tone until you snapped out of it.

You really should have gotten caller ID for this phone.

Taking a shaky step back, you’re suddenly hyper aware of every window in your apartment, and how many of them don’t even have blinds. They’re just open for anyone to look into, see you at every minute of your life. As you exit the kitchen, you turn off the light, leaving the apartment dark.

Every creak of the floorboards under your feet seems deafening as you walk to your bedroom, ready for another sleepless night of tossing and turning and swearing you could feel someone’s eyes on you. But your eyes are tired and just being able to lay still might give you some semblance of rest.

Like the rest of the apartment, your room is dark, the only light coming from the yellow street lamps outside. You reach over to the lightswitch, ready to flip it on and get ready for bed as quickly as possible to get back into the comfortable darkness, but you don’t feel the lightswitch. What your hand meets, instead, is the distinct shape of a leather gloved hand covering it.

Your hand jerks away like it was burned, and even though you really don’t want to, you have to look to see just who is in your room. And even though it's dark in your room, you can clearly see the pale mask of the intruder.

And oh God, you hope this is a sick joke.

But you spot the slight glint of the knife he holds and suddenly it doesn’t matter if this is the real Ghostface because either way it seems he intends to harm- if not kill- you.

You can’t even scream, all you can do is press yourself against the wall perpendicular to the one he stands by, unwilling to turn away from him.

It’s so quiet you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat. But someone has to break the silence, the stalemate between you can’t last but so much longer.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes, meek when you needed it to be strong.

Sickeningly, mockingly, he tilts his head to the side, examining you.

“I’m not here to kill you.” You don’t- you can’t believe him. His hand drops from the wall, and you regret shutting the door behind you when you entered the room. “Not yet, at least.”

The worst part, though, about him finally speaking is that you definitely recognize his voice.

“Then why are you here? I didn’t realize you paid house calls before you...” Killed. Saying it was too much for you, too much of an acknowledgement that what was happening was indeed real. .

“The newspapers can’t get every detail, doll.”

That shouldn’t have made your heart skip a beat, should it? But maybe since he’d already made you cum once (regrettably), your body had no problem associating his voice with sexual gratification and pleasure. Even though your mind was very aware that in no universe should you be feeling that way.

“But I think I made a promise to you, didn’t I?”

See you soon.

“It’s not often I find a girl who gets wet from threatening phone calls.” He pushes himself off the wall, stalking towards you. You can’t press yourself any flatter against the wall and there’s nowhere for you to run. He’s right in front of you and you can’t look at him even though you feel entirely enveloped in his presence, in his smell. “So I wanna have a little fun.”

You swallow thickly, staring at the floor. You’re terrified but- and you hate to admit it- you’re also becoming increasingly hot and bothered with every word this man says to you.

“...Fun?”

The tip of his knife rests under your chin, tilting your face up towards his mask. It’s cold on your skin. He places the hand not holding the knife by your head, leaning right in front of your face. Once he seems certain that you aren’t going to drop your head again, he trails his knife down the front of your body, letting it catch on the fabric of your shirt.

“Tell me, are you wet right now?”

Tears spring into your eyes and it hurts you to realize that it's not from fear but rather the intensity of the moment. You can’t bring yourself to speak, so you opt to barely nod your head.

“What was that? Use your words, doll.” Again, the pet name has its desired effect and you let out a shaky exhale before finding your voice.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Suddenly, he pushes away from you. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”

Maybe you should be ashamed with how quickly you moved to comply with his demand, but you could worry about that if you survived the night. With every word that left his mouth, you felt more and more compelled to let him do whatever he wanted with you. He had a lethal amount of charisma and he knew exactly how to use it.

Standing by the bed with your shirt, bra, and pants off, you only hesitated when it came to removing your undergarments. If what you suspected about Ghostface was true then he’s probably already seen you naked. But doing it willingly with him three feet in front of you was a whole different level of intimacy that you weren’t used to. Especially not with serial killers.

He huffed in annoyance at your obvious hesitation, jabbing towards your bed with his knife. “Lay down.” Startled, you look at him. “Do it before I make you.”

Clambering onto the bed, you lay back and watch as he approaches you. If he weren’t holding a knife and moving like a predator, it might have been romantic. But instead of his hand trailing down your body, it was once again his knife, leaving cold ghosts of threats on your skin. You shiver under the cool metal, breathing erratically.

Tired of standing above your body, Ghostface climbs in between your legs, spreading your thighs to accommodate him. With how you’re positioned, you can feel his hot length through his pants and the front of his leather get-up.

He cuts your underwear off, knife blade grazing your hip, and you pretend not to notice him slipping the fabric into his pocket. You doubt he’d do anything if you pointed it out, anyway. He takes a moment to look at you, now properly disheveled. Placing his knife to the side where it was out of your reach, he takes both of your breasts in his gloved hands, massaging the skin.

Hands moving from your breasts down your body, he runs two fingers up and down your wet cunt. He doesn’t linger anywhere, only giving you whispers of pleasure.

With his other hand, he reaches to where you can’t see him, and it’s only when you feel the head of his cock pressing into you that you realize he’d pulled himself out. Inch by inch he slides into your pussy, barely giving you enough time to accustom yourself to the intrusion.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Once you’ve adjusted to his size, he immediately pulls out and trusts back in, setting a painful pace. But soon the pain turns to pleasure and your whimpers turn to pleas for more.

“So wet, so tight and all for me, huh?” He huffs out a laugh and you’re astonished he’s even able to talk when you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you.

He leans forward, catching your parted lips with his fingers. His middle and ring finger slip into your mouth, opening it wide, fingers pressing into your tongue. Saliva collects in your mouth, and a tiny bit of drool spills out of the corner of your mouth. The tip of your tongue runs under the gloves fingers, relishing in its taste.

You start to suck on his fingers, adding a new obscene sound to the room filled with the wet slaps of your fucking and your breathing and moaning.

“Oh fuck, babygirl,” He grits out, the vocoder in his mask crackling with his heavy breathing. You moan around his fingers, closing your eyes as each trust sends jolts of pleasure through your body. He removes his hand from your mouth, placing it on your hips instead to use as leverage as he continues fucking.

“Harder, God, harder.” You pant and he complies. He’s slamming into you, and your mouth opens in a silent scream as his cock tips you over into your orgasm. Body shuddering, gasping for breath, your pussy squeezes tight around him.

He fucks you right through it, grunting. His hips stutter, but he only slightly slows his pace as he cums deep inside of you. He thrusts once or twice more, fucking his cum further into your cunt before fully stopping. He doesn’t pull out immediately and you feel his cock twitch inside you, all while you are incredibly, blissfully full.

He finally pulls out, looking at your pussy. You grimace at the feeling of the aftermath of your coupling starting to trail out of you.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s hot in his getup in a mask, but decide you’re much too tired to care about his well being.

“Hey, doll, look at me,” You open your eyes, too tired to do anything else. “Think I’ll keep you around.”

I'm gay for him okay!!

DBD Ghostface and survivor reader (gn or male) that whenever they get picked up or Ghostface is smothering them, the survivor bites him. As in the survivors go to fighting mechanism is biting lol.

And like CHOMP and never lets go. Can be soft stuff like Y/N bites softly to get attention or Cough cough Nsfw or even in the middle of a trial Y/N just bites bc its a last resort

Ouughh this is a good idea yes yes :] Hope you enjoy, sorry for the wait, I've been busy with real life stuff.

Danny Johnson w/ a Future Male S/O who bites as a fighting mechanism (SFW)

Most survivors know theres no point in fighting back, the killers will always win. But you were newer and hadn't figured that out yet.

Biting had always been a love language for you in some shape or form. You bit people for attention, to show affection to your friends, and when you were annoyed with people you were close to

Point was, you only bit people you liked.

In the middle of a trial with the Ghostface, you'd spent a good time running and hiding, only popping out to do gens when you knew he was busy

But slowly, your team had whittled down and you were the last one remaining with one generator left to complete. It would be close

Ghostface was on your ass though and barely gave you a minute to breath. It wasn't long before he grabbed you

You still swear what happened in that trial was instinctive...

Kicking and screaming, you were not making it easy for Ghostface whatsoever. He'd finally grabbed you and was carrying you to a hook. Had you had more team members, perhaps you wouldn't have fought so hard. But with your entire team down, getting hook was a death sentence and you only had one generator left!

Ghostface was going to have to try harder if he wanted to kill you.

As you both got closer to the hook, Ghostface visibly annoyed with you, you decided the only way out was to make the killer drop you.

So you bit him.

"What the fuck!?" Ghostface screamed as your teeth sunk into the fabric of his costume and piercing his skin. With your angle thrown over his shoulder, you had to turn and bite at his side. Your teeth cut through his costume's fabric and your mouth flooded with blood as you bit him harshly. Abruptly, you hit the floor as the man let you go out of surprise.

You took off running, uncaring if Ghostface was chasing you or not. With him, it was always better to assume he was. Although your bite had surprised him, he wasn't about to let you hurry off to heal yourself. Unfortunately you didn't get far before Ghostface was upon you, knocking you to the ground and pinning you face down into the damp dirt of the surrounding forest. The only sounds around were the trees and your struggling. "God, you're a little brat aren't ya?" Ghostface sounded smug as he adjusted himself to sit on your lower back.

"Get off-" You grunted, trying to push him off to no avail.

He shook his head in a taunting way. "You bit me you little shit!"

"And I'll do it again if you don't let me go!" You snarled now, visibly biting at his hands if they got too close to your face.

"Alright, spitfire," Ghostface pulled out his camera and knife as he spoke slowly, "we doing this the hard way then?"

You paused, furrowing your brow. "What's the easy way then?"

Ghostface paused, tilting his head down at you even though you couldn't see it. "Easy way? Darling, there's only the hard way."

You couldn't help but snort at his choice of phrasing. "Oh yeah, you're all about doing things hard?" A giggle escaped you just as the killer held a knife to your throat and hesitated.

Ghostface stared off into space, contemplating. Of all the killers, the Ghostface was known for his brutality and lack of hesitation. You felt yourself take a slow inhale as he set his camera down and adjusted himself to be leaning over you more.

You winced at the cold metal pressing hard into your neck and the soft kiss the man lay on your cheek. "Sorry for this darling," he hummed as he picked up his camera and snapped a photo with you.

Your eyes shut on instinct from the bright light and you glared at the ground. "What do I have to do for you to let me go?"

The man above you seemed to contemplate for a moment. "How about a kiss for your favorite ghost?" His tone was cruel and taunting, like he didn't expect you to say yes.

You'll show him.

"Okay." You shrugged plainly. "You'll have to let me at least roll over first, but alright." Anything to get to that final generator at least.

Ghostface was silent for a moment before you felt yourself flip over, nearly knocking the wind out of you. The sight of the killer straddling you, knife in hand, did something to you. "Hey beautiful," you teased, mostly out of panic. But he was pretty, you assumed. No one had seen him without his mask before but some of the girls often talked about men with masks being hotter.

Maybe they were onto something. You'd have to compare notes with them later.

Ghostface tilted his head slightly. "Beautiful, huh?" He seemed contemplative. You sat up slowly, only able to prop yourself up on your forearms with him sitting on you. Carefully, you reached up with one hand to move his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth.

Ghostface sat back slightly, just to allow you to sit up and kiss him. His lips were soft as you kissed him, warmer than you expected them to be. The kiss heated up quickly when you gripped his waist and felt his arms encircle your neck. You knocked his mask off the rest of the way to entangle one of your hands in his dark hair. Pinning him to the ground, you felt him grind up against you just as you bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood.

Pulling away, he stared up at you with wide eyes and a smile on his face. He was pretty, you'll give him that. Bright green eyes, cute freckles, brown hair... You almost thought it was a shame he was a killer. He could have had a harem of men and women lined up for him if it weren't for the mask.

Briefly, the thought that he was prettier with a bloody lip while on top of you flickered through your mind but you shut that down quickly.

"Really a shame," he sighed sadly, wiping blood from his mouth. His tone pulled you from your thoughts as he gazed down at you with a forlorn expression. "You're quite the catch. But I'm afraid we're almost out of time before the Entity cuts us off."

"Hope you catch the plague from me," you hissed at him, realizing what he was saying. His responding laughter ringing out in the quiet space. A pretty sound, if it weren't for the knife he pressed to your throat again.

"See you soon, sweetheart. I'll be watching," was the last thing you heard before feeling sharp, stinging pain shoot down your spine as the cold metal of the knife sliced your neck open. Your blood sprayed out and covered Ghostface beneath you. He was grinning up at you with wild eyes vision blacked out...

Opening your eyes, you sat up slowly to rub the phantom pains from your neck as you took in your surroundings. The smell of smoke and soft voices let you know you were back in the survivor's camp, the bright campfire only a few paces away judging by the orange-yellow glow grazing the trees. The damp fog of the forest seeped into your bones and sent a chill up your back. But the abrupt feeling of eyes on you had your head jerking to look around in the darkness of the forest.

The familiar figure of the Ghostface was nearby, crouched down in the tall grass, head tilted curiously as he observed you. When you locked eyes with him he gave you a little wave. Coming from anyone else it would have been cute or sweet, but coming from him just gave you a strange feeling in your stomach.

Your next trial together would certainly be interesting.

He's baby

Brahms heelshire x male reader bc i love him

the news caught on the returning of a local modern noble and bombarded the gates and door asking questions about what is the caused of the return, this stresses brahms out by the sudden amount of people in his front door with leads to reader shooing the news folks off then comforting brahms by the sudden change.

Or hcs of how brahms would react to the news folks and if he reacts greatly with being a known noble now since coming out of hiding? How’s he gonna feel about paparazzi‘s when adjusting to society again? /i like to think reader is guilding him slowly into society again like a little trip to the park here and there, etc, so he doesn’t surprise or go to fast for brahms/

Sorry for the time again unu I hopeyou like this

Neither of you noticed the change that had taken place outside the Heelshire mansion, as you were immersed in the book Brahms was reading, in a clear and passionate voice.

The deep timbre of his voice soothed you greatly, to the point where you felt at an intermediate crossroads between the events of the book and the sensations of the real world. Brahms had long since discovered what your favorite book was, and whenever he sought to be even more pampered by you, he would read you your favorite passages in that voice that tickled your heart.

It was Brahms' hand touching your thigh softly that brought you back to the present moment, and you could finally perceive the commotion outside the place.

Brahms stilled suddenly, reacting to it as well, and his hands, now trembling and clumsy, put on the porcelain mask quickly, forbidding your eyes for an indefinite period of time to appreciate your beloved.

You looked at him in consternation, your mind racing to find an explanation for what was happening.

Finally, you decided to go out to investigate what it was all about, making sure that Brahms was well hidden behind the walls.

After hiding a razor in the sleeve of your shirt and kissing your boyfriend's dark curls, assuring him that everything would be all right, you plucked up the courage to go out...

Not expecting to run into a sea of screaming reporters, demanding an answer about Brahms' current condition, taking pictures that dazzled you, and pushing the limits of civilized socializing.

"The man who was in the room earlier, was that Brahms?" your stomach cringed at these words, for it was clear that he had been seen, there was no point in hiding his presence, and lying about his identity could have been worse.

"What happened after all this time? Who are you?" asked a red-haired woman with the widest and greediest eyes you had ever seen.

"Can we talk to him? He's front-page news," a man who was barely trying to look friendly in your eyes with his feet firmly planted in anticipation of getting through.

"The great Heelshire heir on his return from the dead, the question is not if you're going to let us in, but how long" that tall, strong woman looked capable enough to pull you aside to get her scoop. You swallowed hard.

That kaleidoscope of eager and hungry faces was making you nauseous, but you couldn't leave Brahms at the mercy of such predators. You didn't doubt their curiosity, nor that, in fact, your man's story would be fascinating to the local public, but you did doubt how they would treat him, how they would portray him to the world, and, above all, whether Brahms could even bear their overwhelming presence.

"He won't answer anything and I don't know the story, so there's nothing to see here, I'm sorry," you said firmly but without wanting to be aggressive or rude. Still, this did not sit well with the small crowd, as they were only more insistent on wanting to go in and get the answers for themselves.

"Are you his legal guardian? His boyfriend? Are you connected to his parents' disappearance?"

"Are you aware that he could be a murderer?"

"What are you going to do with all that money?"

Those questions, increasingly invasive, felt like hard blows to the peace that had previously reigned in that bubble away from the world, and of course, the malicious nature of them all made you furious.

"This is private property, so if you don't want to be fined or arrested for trespassing, I suggest you go away and leave us alone" you made yourself heard, more threatening than firm this time, but still, those persistent people seemed to have turned a deaf ear.

"Get the fuck out!" you shouted at the top of your lungs, struggling with the door to close it, pushing away hands and feet until you heard the exclamations of astonishment and felt that familiar body heat behind your back.

"Brahms! An interview! Talk to us! Are you going to jail?" and with his body tense in a way you had never seen before, Brahms slammed the door shut, pinching jackets and fingernails that ended the mess.

"Shit," you whispered again, aware of how much the privacy and your boyfriend's well-being were at risk.

With those same trembling hands, Brahms grabbed hold of your arms, collapsing on top of you, trembling between sobs, soaked with fear.

"My love," you whispered, heartbroken at Brahms' vulnerability and fear.

Without letting go of his hand, you insisted on carrying him to the bathroom, where you knew perfectly well that no one would have access. After taking care of Brahms, you would call Malcolm to have security cameras placed on the property, whatever it took to keep out the press and other curious onlookers.

Your priority now was your boyfriend crying on the spotless bathroom floor, terrified of what they might do to him.

With extreme care, you removed his mask, being able to watch those thick tears run down his cheeks.

"They're coming back, for me" and hearing that come from his lips made your world crumble. You couldn't stand to see him like this.

"I won't leave them, and you know it. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep them from seeing you, so they never get to you and know nothing" you promised, holding his face in your hands, looking for those beautiful blue eyes to look at you.

"You are the most important thing to me, Brahms, I will not let anything or anyone hurt you or separate you from my side, do you hear me?"

And the intensity of your words, the conviction with which you uttered each one and that determined and furious look, convinced him instantly. You were his man, so strong and sure, his knight in shining armor.

"Y/N...I love you" and he kissed you, in that awkward, passionate, emotion-filled way so characteristic of him.

Inside, you were terrified, devising a thousand and one plans so that that hidden nest would not remain exposed, but feeling that kiss, that beard against your face, those curls caressing your cheeks, you knew that you would be able to do anything to keep him safe and experience again those sensations, the most pleasurable of your life, until the world would be extinguished.