Medieval: Back And Forth By Colombe Fretel

Medieval: Back and Forth by Colombe Fretel

Pyramid Head x Gn reader “Valentine Fun”

A/n: The name is cheesy I know. Happy Valentines Day! :D

Cw: Nsfw, worship, reader is a bit dumb, choking, rough play, Pyr doesn’t understand love does understand lust, sub bottom reader, dom top Pyr.

Butterflies were all you could feel making your way back from the small party. Today was Valentine’s Day at least according to the entity. It was even nice enough to let everyone have a party. Though that wasn’t why you were feeling like this.

Pyramid Head just had something about him that made you feel warm. He makes you feel so light like your flouting. You had recently gain the confidence to finally talk to him about it. It may not work out but there’s no harm in trying.

You make a small detour from the dirt path. It may sound a bit weird but you may know the place he frequently is at. Just a little patch in the middle of the woods. You always liked the  brooding type though.

The sounds of squeaking metal was a good sign you were close. when you couldn’t find were it was coming from is confusing you. Bumping into a chest made of steal made your worries disappear.

“There you are! I was look for you.” A smile spread across your face. Obviously you were still supper nervous about this. “I know this might sound a bit crazy but I really like you. I mean I practically worship the ground you walk on sometimes.”

Pyramid Head looked at you a bit confused. You were just rambling on about how amazing he was. It was very easy for him to confuse you for a follower. Followers are supposed to worship right?

With a gentle shove you were on the ground. You started to apologize but stopped seeing his erection. It had to be bigger the 15 inches. “At least take me out to dinner first.” You laughed but Pyramid Head did not.

You gently grabbed him by the shaft your hand couldn’t fit around it. You gave the tip a quick kiss before taking it in. It barely fit inside your mouth you don’t know how it’s going to fit inside you.

You were gagging and it wasn’t even half way in. Finally when you thought you had taken as much as possible you started bobbing your head. Using your hand to pleasure the rest of him.

Even though you were going at a steady pace Pyr didn’t think you were going fast enough. With several quick thrust into your mouth he’d hoped you got the point. Coughing you pulled off of him. “Should have figured you played rough.” You licked and kissed his cock making sure he’s dripping wet.

Backing away you drop your pants and underwear. You braced yourself against a tree and waited for him to approach. It didn’t take long to him to start massaging your ass. You let out a shocked moan when a tongue pushed its way into your hole.

He started to push in and out twisting as it does. It was sending electricity throughout your body. Sadly it didn’t last long and left feeling empty. You whined out wanting his tongue back inside.

Your whining became whimpers when you felt the tip of his cock try to push in. You forced yourself to relax spreading yourself just wide enough. He managed to get the tip in stretching you out. The pain shooting through your body was almost unbearable. The only thing making it bearable was the surfacing pleasure.

Inch by inch the pain was washed out by the pleasure. When he finally bottom out he didn’t waste time and started thrusting fast. You had to cover a scream trying not attract attention. Muffled moans and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the forest. You were in pure and utter bliss.

You could feel your quickly approaching orgasm. “Please harder please!” Your voice was weak and drool was leaking down your chin. He obliged and put his full body weight into every thrust. It didn’t take long for the rush to hit you hard. You were shaking and almost fell if he hadn’t pulled you flush against his chest.

A few more heavy sloppy thrust later and Pyramid Head cummed deep inside you. He waited while you caught your breath. You were mumbling incoherently still riding your high. Pyr liked you when you were like this. It’s going to be a very long night for you.

Secret Book Of The Arts

The Downward Spiral

—

Jed Olsen isn’t who he says he is.

Ghostface has a thing for the young reporter.

Danny Johnson always takes what he wants.

—

This is a dark Ghostface DBD fanfiction. Content warning:

Stalking

Torture

Sexual violence

Knifeplay

Dubcon/Noncon

Blood kink

Graphic descriptions of violence

A very mean Danny Johnson

Some wound fingering

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. If the above are triggers for you, do not proceed. DBD lore does not suggest Danny is fun or nice, I wrote him as such.

Originally posted on my AO3

—

Listen, I’m not going out tonight. I’m already in my pajamas and I’m just not in the mood.”

“Oh c’mon! Look, I know you’re bummed about your boyfriend breaking up with you, but I really think a girls’ night would do you good!” You sighed. Cass had good intentions, she was just trying to help, but you were just not in the mood tonight.

“It’s not just that. I still think that call was out of character for him. He just sounded… something wasn’t right.” You sighed. “He sounded scared…”

“Need I remind you that he’s the same man who made you cry, on like, multiple occasions. He was a piece of shit, babe. He really isn’t worth your time, he’s not worth any woman’s time.”

She was right. He wasn’t very nice to you. He blew you off, he was always late picking you up for dates, and he was just a jackass. Still though, something just felt off about his message. And then he just… vanished.

“Hellooooo?”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, and not only that, what about the curfew? Roseville PD will be crashing parties, and I don’t think an office party is an exception.”

Cass huffed. “We’re the newspaper. I don’t think they’ll shut us down. You know Jed’s supposed to be here too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Jed Olsen. He showed up a few months ago with a stacked portfolio and a ‘winning attitude’ according to the editor in chief. Jed Olsen with his confident smile. Jed Olsen with his dark hair and deep brown eyes. Jed Olsen with the entire office head over heels for him. You weren’t any different. Jed was nice to you, if not a little flirty, Cass pointed out that he seems to hang around your desk and chat with you the most. Jed was, in every way, miles better than your ex boyfriend.

“Tell him I said hi.” You replied. “I’m not leaving my house tonight.”

Cass sighed, defeated that her master plan didn’t get you to leap into your car and speed off to the party. “Okay, we’ll miss you tonight.”

“Have fun, let me know when you get back home.”

The line cut out after you exchanged goodbye and you were once again left in silence. You opened the microwave and tossed a bag of popcorn in, leaning against the counter as the machine heated the snack up and you went through the mail. Junk, junk, junk, bill, bill, coupon. You paused when you got to the Roseville Gazette.

TWO FOUND SLAIN IN ANOTHER HORRIFIC GHOSTFACE MURDER by Jed Olsen.

The screaming ghost mask stared back at you, taunting you, watching you. Jed’s career took off when the Ghostface killings began. The exclusive photos, taken by the murderer himself, certainly helped. But so did the interviews Jed conducted, you’ve seen them, he was so sympathetic and kind to the victims’ friends and family. And he wrote like a god. No one seemed to question how Jed’s ‘insider’ gets him the photos, you don’t think anyone even cares.

You tossed the paper aside and stopped the popcorn, dumping it in a bowl and making your way to the couch and pressing play on the video you rented tonight.

Twenty minutes into the video, the phone rings. You huff and press pause to pick up the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello there.” The voice was male, albeit a little mechanical, but it was over the phone.

“Um, who’s this?”

“Who do you want it to be?”

You scoffed. Seriously? A grown man prank calling? “Okay, you’re either some random man who picked my name out of a phonebook, or you’re one of his friends being a jackass.”

“Can’t say I know who that is, doll.”

“So you just call random numbers? Or did Cass give you my number?” You found a smile pulling at your lips, starting to have a bit of fun with the stranger. Who’s to stop you, really. “Can’t imagine that isn’t something she’d do.”

“What can I say? The curfew had me bored, must’ve dialed the wrong number, but I’m not complaining. What are you up to?” Fuck it. You’ll entertain this.

“Just watching a scary movie I picked up from the video store after work.”

“Oh really? What’s your favorite scary movie?” He inquired. I was practically blushed at the smoothness of his voice.

“Halloween. Personally, I think John Carpenter makes the best horror.”

“Well, he is the Master of Horror. So, you got a name, doll?” I laughed.

“What about your name, mystery man? You called me first.”

The voice chuckled on the other end. “Well, tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.”

You jumped up onto the counter. “Why should I do that?” A giggle rose in your throat.

A pause.

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Time seemed to freeze. Your heart rate picked up and your breathing became quicker. The giggle died and became bile rising. There was a roaring in your ears and you began to stammer in fear. “Wh-what did you just say?” You misunderstood him, you must have! No one would say that, and if they did, it was just a cruel joke.

“You heard me, sweetheart. I saw you reading the front page. Do you like my work? You’re talking to Roseville’s biggest celebrity.”

No fucking way…

“I’m calling-“

“The cops? They wouldn’t make it in time, they’d find you gutted and I’d be long gone by then, just pictures of me and your pretty corpse.” His voice changed, it wasn’t flirty or sexy anymore, it was downright terrifying. It was aggressive and harsh, no more seduction. He wasn’t toying anymore, he had begun his hunt. “The only thing calling the cops would stop is how long I plan on playing with you.”

“What the hell do you want?” You growled, flinching when a flash went off out of the corner of your eye from the small window above the sink, but when you looked at it, no one was there.

“Heh. Pretty picture. But, won’t you smile for me, doll? I’ll be sending these to the paper in the morning, I want you looking your best for the obituary they write for you.” Ghostface teased.

“Quit playing around, fucker!” You pulled a knife out of the drawer and crept out of the kitchen and into the living room. “C’mon, asshole. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The man laughed on the other end of the call, tsking at you as if you were a fool. “Well… then it’s a good thing you left the garage door unlocked.”

The dial tone blared in your ear as he hung up, leaving you in silence, the only thing scoring your last few moment was the soundtrack of Halloween 2 playing quietly. You lowered the phone, gripping the knife as your fingers began to sweat. It was too quiet. You scoffed and began to dial 911, but before you could finish dialing, you were tackled by a large figure.

“Fuck!” You thrashed as the two of you wrestled, your foot connecting with his chest and shoving him off of you. You sat up and cursed as the soulless black eyes of Ghostface’s mask bore into you before grabbing the knife and swinging at him, just missing his hand. He tilted his head as you two circled the couch, his hunting knife at the ready like yours.

“You’ve got spirit, doll. I like a challenge. I like a little fight.” His voice was distorted by a modulator, sounding the exact same as the mechanical voice over the phone.

“Fuck you!” You screamed, lunging at the killer and landing a cut on his forearm.

He yelled furiously. “You bitch! If you would just cooperate and lay down and die this wouldn’t be so bad!”

You turned and made a break for the door, hoping, praying, that you could open it and scream and your neighbors would come to your rescue. Instead, a sharp pain bloomed in your back and a scream ripped from your throat as the sharp pain was torn from your back and renewed in your flank. Ghostface’s hand tangled into your hair and your head connected with the wall, leaving you engulfed in darkness.

—

When you came to, your head was pounding. You could feel a dull pressure in your flank and something warm and sticky was running down your scalp, and was the room spinning? What room where you even in? What day is it? Shit… what happened to you?

“Oh look, you live.” You groaned and turned your head towards the mechanical voice. Ghostface was lounged in a plush chair, legs spread as if he were right at home. “You know, you’re a tricky one! Who knew you’d put up a fight!”

Oh right… he caught you…

“What do you want from me…” You slurred, trying to focus on stringing your words together. How concussed where you? Ghostface tilted his head. “Are you going to murder me?”

“Aw, don’t be scared, sweetheart, that part will be quick.” He stood and casually made his way to the side of the bed, gripping the knife that was still jammed into my side. His unoccupied hand clamped over my mouth as he slowly twisted the blade, my muffled screams having little affect on his sympathy as I thrashed and began to cry. Ghostface chuckled. “The part before however, I’ll be taking my sweet time.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you!” You barked, squirming as he ran his leather clad fingers down the column of your throat.

“Sucks that your boyfriend broke up with you, huh?” He teased. “Maybe you wouldn’t have been alone tonight, huh?”

“Wh-How do you know that?”

“Speaking of, have you heard from him lately? I think I saw somewhere in the paper that there were two bodies butchered beyond belief.” Your eyes widened. “Maybe you should’ve gone to the Gazette’s party, but I was counting on you being a recluse instead. You’re so predictable, doll. And a dumb bitch too. You really shouldn’t just go around telling people so much about yourself. That’s dangerous, you never know who exactly you’re talking to.”

“How do you know all of this? The party, the break up, who the hell are you!?” Tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes as Ghostface stroked your hair and stared at you, seemingly taking in your pathetic, half dead state. “Why are you doing this?”

Ghostface remained silent, but his hand rose up towards that mask and you knew what it meant. It meant whatever chance you had of getting out of this alive. It meant you were doomed to end up on the front page of the Gazette. You could see it now, ‘The Ghostface Killer Strikes Again, One Dead’. What you couldn’t foresee was the face behind the screaming plastic mask, because you would have never guessed that Jed Olsen’s brown eyes would be staring back at you. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“No… No, no, it’s not y- it can’t be you, Jed!” You sobbed as he ran his fingers through the blood on your cheek and examined them. You thrashed against the restraints on your wrists and ankles, desperate to run from him.

“You’re even prettier when you bleed.” You groaned and shake your head as he cleaned the blood away from the leather with his tongue. “Way more satisfying than the look on your ex-boyfriend’s face as he made that phone call to you with a knife to his throat, thought I’d let him go too! Hah!”

“Jed… please don’t do this, please let me go, I won’t tell anyone!” You felt so pathetic begging, but it was all I could do. Jed looked back down at you, a short laugh escaping his lips.

“You won’t tell anyone, huh? I can’t risk it, sweetheart, you’ve seen my face now.” You yelped when he grabbed the knife and ripped it out of your side, examining the way your blood dripped from it. “But our fun is just beginning.”

“Please… I- I’ll- I’ll help you cover up the murders! Please Jed!”

He shushed you softly, stroking your cheek with a gentleness that was almost cruel while his other hand pressed against the wound on my flank. “The more you fight, the harder this will be. You’re going to do everything I tell you, you’re not going to fight, and you’re going to be a good pet. Do you understand?”

“Fuck- Fuck you!” Jed scoffed and jammed his fingers into the wound while holding his hand over your mouth, pulling a weak scream from you. “Jed! Stop! Stop, it hurts!”

“Do you understand now, bitch!?”

You nod reluctantly, gasping when his fingers left the wound. This was it, you were going to die and there was nothing that you could do about it. Worst of all, you liked Jed. He was always nice to you, he was gorgeous, he was smart, he was everything you wished you could have in a man. And even now, even as he played around with you in the cruelest way, he looked ethereal with the eye black and the hood of his outer layer pulled back just enough to let his hair peak through.

“Good pet.” I winced as he patted my cheek a little too aggressively.

“Why are you doing this? Why me? I thought you liked me?”

“Oh doll, I do like you! I think you’re interesting and fun to be around. Why do you think I would hang around you so much at work?” Jed circled the foot of the bed, looking eerily similar to a wolf stalking its prey. “And you were so eager to have my attention.”

“I was being friendly!”

Jed scoffed. “Give me a break, sweetheart. You think you hid it so well, but I didn’t miss the way you blushed, or smiled, or pressed your thighs together when I would lean down over your shoulder to look at what you were working on, my breath on your neck as I praised you. You really enjoyed that.” You gritted your teeth and spat in his face, earning a flinch and an unamused chuckle as he wiped it off. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought.”

He moved like lightning, throwing himself over you and straddling your hips, his buck knife pressed hard against your throat as your eyes went wide in panic. One pull on the knife and you were a goner.

Except there was a part of you, some sick and disgusting part of you, that fucking liked this. Liked the cold, sharp steel biting your skin, liked his weight holding you down, and really liked the press of his bulge against your body. And even more fucked up, you rolled your hips up against it.

“Oh my fucking god. Are you really into this?” Jed leaned down, nearly nose to nose with you. “You little slut, you are into this! Rolling your hips up like a needy little bitch. Want me to take care of that little problem down there for you?”

You whimpered at his cruel words, or maybe you were whimpering because that damn leather felt so good as it glided up your shirt. There was a loud rip as he sliced it off of you, a sadistic grin lighting up his face as he slowly raked his eyes down my body. “Jed I-“

“Danny.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “S-sorry?”

“Name’s Danny. Not Jed.”

This gave you pause, you had so many questions. What else had he lied about? How did he wind up here? Why Roseville? Why choose the Gazette? Why you? “I’m scared… Danny.”

Danny smiled softly and traced your jawline with his knife before stabbing it inches away from your head. “Fear makes pussy taste better.”

You didn’t even get to think before his hand was in your hair and ripping you upward to crash his lips to yours. You whimpered, but didn’t fight, instead you opened your mouth when he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You were sick in the head. You had to be. But it felt so good when his fingers slid down your body and pinched your nipple between them.

You let him grope you, you let him run his tongue over yours, you let him do whatever he wanted. He lied to you, he tricked you, and goddammit, he was still the single most sexually appealing person you’d ever laid eyes on. He parted from you and pushed you back down, grinning as he rips the knife out off the pillow and cuts your underwear.

You blushed as he raised it to his nose and inhaled before laughing as his knife slipped back into its sheath. “Pretty fucked up that you’re turned on by a stalker with a knife. I’ll be keeping these.” He stuffed them into his pocket before removing his hood, the shroud, and finally his shirt. Your breath caught in your throat as he stretched and ran his fingers through his hair, locking eyes with him. He was lean, not overly muscular, his chest had various scars, scars from when victims probably fought back. He clearly worked out, you presumed he had to with his… line of work. Danny sighed and leaned down. “You gonna be a good pet for me and be still?”

“Yes…”

“Good.” He nipped your earlobe before he began the torturously slow descent down your body. “I’ve been pining after you for months, sweetheart. But that damn boyfriend of yours…” he sucked a harsh bruise onto your neck. “Always getting in the fuckin’ way. It was so annoying.”

You gasped as he reached your breasts, running his tongue over your nipple, the softness briefly interrupted by the coolness of a ball. You looked down to see a silver ball, a piercing. Because of course he would have one.

Danny continued his descent, kissing and biting your hips until he got where he wanted to be. “And what do we have here, hm?”

Your breath hitched as he slid his hands out of the gloves by his teeth and dragged his cold, bare fingers up your thigh until he was just shy of brushing your vulva. Danny watched your legs tense and your body twitch as he finally ran his fingers between your slit.

“I wouldn’t have guessed being strapped down by a stalker would get you so wet, it’s adorable.” You whimpered as Danny leaned in close to your face and circled you clit slowly with his index and middle fingers. “Such a pathetic slut.”

“N-no!” you protested.

“Oh? You’re not a pathetic slut? Is that why you’re trying to grind on my hand?” he taunted.

“Danny please… I won’t tell anyone, we can be done here!” You felt pathetic begging him for mercy. It was weak and pitiful. “Please.”

“Oh do I love hearing you beg. Tell you what, doll, you play nice and cooperate, and I’ll consider… other options. Deal?” You swallowed, biting back a moan as he pressed a little harder on your clit. That was still Jed’s face hovering above yours. You could pretend it was still him. But pretending would involve ignoring the dull ache in your head from when Ghostface slammed you into the wall. Pretending would involve acting as if the pain from the stab wound on your flank from when Ghostface impaled you didn’t exist. And pretending would involve you looking up at the man with eyeblack and Jed’s face was truly Jed. Jed and not Danny. Jed and not Ghostface. “Tick tock, sweetheart. I’m getting an itch, and I don’t think you want to know what kind of itch it is.”

Danny pulled his fingers away from your clit and pressed them into the stab wound, grinning as a scream fell out of your throat. “Okay! Yes! Yes! I’ll cooperate! Please stop!”

He pulled them back out and shoved them knuckle deep into your pussy. Your eyes widened as your blood mixed with the wetness between your legs, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“You like that don’t you, baby?” He grinned in a way that would have been charming, but with all the eyeblack and blood that splattered on his cheek, it was simply sinister. “Maybe you’re sicker in the head than I thought.”

“That’s- fuck- that’s a lot of talk coming from the man who- mmh- who stalks people like a pervert!” you snapped, back arching as he stroked his fingers in that delicious come hither motion.

“I know I’m sick in the head.” Danny leaned in close, breath ghosting over your lips as he growled. “But you’re the one loving every second of this pervert fucking your hole with my fingers.”

“Shut up!” you snapped, gasping as his fingers spread into a v-shape and stretched your walls.

“You act so prim and proper at work.” Danny kissed your jaw bone with a laugh. “You put on this facade of the young and perky reporter with a great boyfriend and a great life. But I know what you need, Princess.” You cried out as his fingers left your pussy. “You need it filthy. You need it rough. You need me.”

Your breath heaved in your chest as he spread his fingers, streetlights gleaming against the juices that webbed between his long fingers.

“Open.”

“Wh-“ he shoved his fingers into your mouth with so much force you gagged. Danny laughed like a maniac.

“That’s it. Lick them clean and I might give you what you want.”

Fuck. His fingers tasted like your pussy and the copper of blood. This was unhinged. What the fuck were you thinking?

“That’s a good pet.” Danny’s fingers slipped from your mouth and he smiled. “Keep it up, maybe I can find a new use for you besides adding to my body count.”

“Danny-“

He ignored the weak cry of his name as he pushed apart your legs, groaning at the slick folds of your pussy, spotted with blood from his handiwork. Speaking of…

You cried out in pain as he brushed the stab wound. “Fucking hell! Stop!” Your cries were only fuel to his desperate longing and lust as his fingers played around in the wound. How long had he dreamed of this? How many days had he gone home, jacked off in his chair, went and killed, only to be back in the shower beating his cock again to you. He was obsessed.

“When I’m through with you, doll…” Danny growled, “I’m going to have you screaming my name, I’ll infect your brain like a parasite. You won’t be able to even comprehend what happened to you. I’ll have you completely cumdrunk.”

You felt breathless when he finally stopped digging around in the wound, your vision was fuzzy, your head was pounding, and yet still, fucking still! Your pussy was soaking.

“Pathetic, really, how wet you get when I play with my marks.” His dark eyes rose to yours. “I think it’s time I get to taste that sweet pussy.”

You whimper as he pressed his lips to your knee, trailing his tongue and that piercing down, down, down until he bit down on your inner thigh. “Fuck! Ow!”

Danny let go and pressed and open mouth kiss to the bite mark. “How I wish I could feel you pull my hair but… I wouldn’t want you thinking up any ways to start fighting.”

He laughed at your anger before his tongue was running up your slit in the blink of an eye. Oh god it was so warm. You gasp and let out a long, low groan as Danny focused his attention on your clit. You moved your hips best you could as his bloody hands gripped them, leaving red stains on your skin. His eyes lifted and he smiled wickedly.

“That’s it baby…” he lapped as your clit. “Make those pretty noises for me.”

You sighed and arched as tears formed in your eyes. Why did you like this? He was a murderer, a psychopath, he was a liar who created this persona to charm and hypnotize. And you fell for it.

Danny growled and nipped roughly at your clit. You look down with a yelp, locking eyes with him as he slightly lifted an eyebrow in a silent warning before fingers slipped in as he circled and massaged the tongue piercing over your clit.

“You,” he began, looking down at his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy before resting his head on your thigh. “better keep your mind from wondering. I’m all you should be fucking looking at.” He punctuated his point with a deep shove of his fingers. “Understand?”

“Fuck! Yes…” Danny grinned and nodded.

“You wanna cum don’t you?” You didn’t respond, just moaned as he stroked your G-spot. “I asked you a question, bitch!”

“Yes… fuck, yes I wanna cum…” Your cheeks burned as you admitted it. He was hot. This was hot. This was gross. He was gross. You reached that point, your legs began to shake and your body tightened as you exploded, cum flowing out onto his fingers. Danny grinned like a wolf, leaning down as his fingers withdrew.

You whimpered as his tongue touched your asshole, dragging all the way up to catch what dripped out. “God fucking damn, you taste so fucking delicious.” His fingers smeared your cum down your chest as he tweaked one nipple, then the other to illicit cries out of you. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you won’t be able to think straight.”

He stood and slowly unzipped his black pants before working it all down and narrowing his eyes at you. “If I take off those restraints, are you going to behave?”

The black around his eyes made them more intense as he sent that threat to my core. “Yes…”

“Yes, what?” he growled.

“Yes sir?”

He smirked and found the knife again, slicing your restraints off your legs before stealing you and cutting the ones from your arms. You hesitated then brought your arms to his shoulders. How could he look so good with your blood splattered on him? You couldn’t deny it any longer, you were grossly into this. You were into him. Even if he wasn’t Jed. Even if he was Ghostface. You were into everything about this. Sure, the blood loss made it easier, but you accepted your fate.

Danny leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was softer, more chaste. His hand drifted down your torso, lifting to grab his cock in his hand, pumping it before he teased the head against your slit.

“Please…”

“Look me in the eyes and try again, sweetheart.” he whispered.

You sighed, lifting your eyes to his and murmured “Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.”

Danny laughed then thrusted deep into you. You cried out as he began a brutal pace, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his chest. “Fuck, so tight… god dammit!”

You whimpered and arched your back. The wound in your side still bled, you could feel it smear as his hand passed over it to pull a brief cry of pain from you. He grabbed the knife again and pressed it against your throat.

“You’re so lovely, covered in blood.” He purred, pressing harder, eyes darkening as he grinned. Your own eyes widened as he pumped faster, fear taking over as you. Danny groaned. “God, you slut. You just clenched at the thought of his knife slicing you right open.”

Danny moaned as you clinched again, then his eyes sparkled with an idea. He pinned you down at the elbow, exposing your inner bicep, the soft flesh exposed as he brought the hunting knife to the skin.

“No! Danny no please don’t cut me again!” You screamed when the blade bit into the skin, a sob wrenching from your throat as he carved at your arm. Each scream drew a moan from him, for every cut forced a squeeze from you. “Stop! Please! It hurts so fucking much! Fuck you!”

“Aw baby. But you’re squeezing me- fuck- so good.” He thrusted unevenly, clearly close to an orgasm. “Fuck, c’mon sweetheart…”

With one last deep slice, he came, cumming inside you as he practically roared with relief. You started sobbing, blood pouring from your arm and side, that headache that you forgot about coming back with a vengeance. The room was getting fuzzy. It hurt. You didn’t know exactly what it was that hurt the most, but it all hurt.

Danny smiled, slowly pulling out of you, sitting back on his heels and looking down at his handiwork, almost admiring it. He stayed straddling you, then started laughing again. “You know sweetheart… I think I can make a deal for you.”

You gazed up blearily, vision going in and out. “Deal…?”

“I’ll keep you alive… but not here. No… no Im taking you with me.” Danny’s breathing picked up. “It needs you. It needs a survivor. A sacrifice…”

Your brows creased as he raised the knife. “No… you… you said I’ll live!”

“I’m taking you where I’m going. We’re you will be mine forever.” He stabbed down and pierced your heart, ripping the knife out to slash your throat. Blood filled your lungs as you coughed and choked. Your eyes widened as your head lolled, eyes registering what he marred into your arm. ‘MINE’.

As the world faded, Danny’s fingers stroked your hair. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

Idk if you're taking requests, but here I am. Maybe TF 141 with an S/O who has ADHD and when going places, like a mall, for example they'll just completely walk away and they'll just loose their S/O

I took 'reader who is always walking away' and ran with it… ba dum tss (sorry, I had to). Anyway, I hope this is sorta what you were looking for! I was in a Christmas-y mood so all of these are winter/holiday themed!

Price

The park is especially busy for a Friday afternoon. There's children playing in the snow, daring youths having a go on the frozen lake, and families everywhere making memories to last a lifetime.

You've only been sitting on this bench for roughly a quarter of an hour before Price starts to squirm beside you, something clearly making him uncomfortable. Before you can even ask what it is, he's standing from the seat in one brisk motion.

“Be back in a moment, darling,” he grumbles. “The cold makes me need to piss like a stallion.”

As he takes off to find a place to relieve himself, all you can do is laugh and call after him to, “Wash your hands!”

Five minutes and one desecrated tree later, he emerges from the secluded thicket of bushes he found, zipping up his fly discreetly. He makes his way back to the bench you'd been seated at, a bit of a spring to his step… only to deflate once he discovers you’ve disappeared into thin air.

He sighs out loud – a long, drawn-out sound. He could say he's surprised but then he'd be lying. He knows you and your tendency to wander off; this is nothing new to him. Now it's just a matter of finding you again… for the third time this week, he remarks internally.

He would try calling you but he already knows you forgot your phone at home. He's got to get better about reminding you to take it with you whenever you leave the house, especially if he's constantly having to chase after you like you're some sort of loose gerbil.

Thankfully, he sees a set of footprints which he believes to be yours leading away from the bench. So, with no better clues to guide him, he decides to follow after the tracks, hoping they'll lead him right to you.

It's not long into it that he hears a sound in the distance, sort of a low, pleasant humming that grows stronger the closer he gets. It's only a minute or two later when – eureka! – he finds you standing with a small crowd who've gathered to listen to a group of carolers.

Ahh, of course. He should've known. You just can't resist a good live performance. Like a siren calling to you in a storm, one way or another, you'll always find your way to them.

Price easily sidles up next to you, flashing a smile when you briefly turn to take notice of him. His hand finds the small of your back as he joins you in listening, enjoying the festive songs performed by the carolers.

You're standing for a while, attention fully drawn to the singers ahead, when at some point you lean into Price’s ear, your voice lowered to a whisper.

“You washed your hands?” Your question is earnest, if not a little playful.

In response, and with a tone most firm, he declares simply, “...Yep.” Though, the way his hand slips from your back and into his coat pocket reeks of something awfully similar to guilt.

Ghost

You're on your 15th row when you spot it. There, standing not quite two and a half meters tall, perfectly green and dense and conical: your Christmas tree for the year.

An excited squeal leaves your lips and you swiftly run up to the tree to admire its beauty. “This is it! This is the one! Oh, isn't it just perfect?” you say reverently.

“Hold on a minute, love,” Ghost tries to rein you in as he lags a bit further behind. “Isn't that wha' you said about the one a few rows back? Wha' about that one?”

Oh yeah! You forgot all about that tree!

Well, now that he's reminded you, you want to do a little comparison. You tell him to stay put and guard this one while you quickly run back to check out that other one.

Two, five, nearly ten minutes pass and you haven't returned, much to Ghost’s chagrin. He thinks his bollocks must’ve shrunk three sizes by now from how long he's been standing out in this freezing cold.

After a dozen or so minutes, he tries ringing you, just to make sure everything’s alright. When there's no answer on the other end, he tries again, but is met with the same silence that has a streak of alarm bolting up his spine.

Ghost has always been a worrywart when it comes to his loved ones, and that concern only amplifies when it comes to large crowds and even larger spaces.

What's taking so long? Where have you gone? Are you lost? Hurt? Something worse? His mind begins to spiral.

Fuck it, he decides, and abandons the tree in order to seek you out. As he searches, row after row yields nothing but strangers and snow-capped firs. By now he's starting to fully panic, running around like a maniac, drawing the eyes of everyone in the lot as he yells out your name.

When he finally runs into you again – literally runs into you – he's out of breath, his heart pounding, and he grabs your shoulders with his strong hands and nearly shakes you out of your knitted cap.

“Don't scare me like that!” he's more exasperated than angry, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. “Thought somethin’ might've happened to you,” he confesses, holding you to his chest like he thinks you'll evaporate if he lets go.

“M’sorry,” you mumble into the wall of hard muscle. “Got distracted.” The excuse is as weak as your skeleton feels beneath his embrace.

Distracted? What could have possibly distracted you enough that you didn't hear him screaming your name?

You pull back just enough to look at him, a sad curl to your lip that he can tell is forced. “I saw the cutest French bulldog,” you say, and Ghost has the audacity to scoff. “No, really! He was wearing the most adorable little Christmas jumper, and his name was Bark-tholomew. Bark-tholomew!” you stress.

Now that he knows you're safe and sound, Ghost loosens his hold on you, closing his eyes as he feels his pulse begin to slow.

“I asked the owners for a picture. Do you wanna see him?” you add hopefully.

When Ghost opens his eyes again, he's met with that sweet look on your face – that one he's unable to resist. He holds his breath for a beat or two, before letting out a deep, resonating sigh. “...Yeah, alright. Let's see it.”

Soap

It's unsurprising to find the mall jam-packed the week before Christmas, but that doesn't mean Soap isn't still annoyed by the swarm of bodies. But that's what he gets for waiting so long to go holiday shopping. Curse those last-minute deals and his inability to pass them up!

However, rather than wandering aimlessly through the mall, Soap has a game plan for today's spree. He knows exactly what stores he wants to hit, in the order he wants to hit them. And with you following closely behind to help, he's sure it'll be no sweat.

The first shop is easy enough to navigate with you trailing after him – providing your input when he inquires, and holding his items for him once he picks the one he wants. The second shop is much the same and the third even easier.

It's on the way to the fourth where, too caught up in his lists, Soap doesn't notice as you divert from the path, something else much more appealing stealing your attention away. It isn't until he's trying to decide between the last remaining pairs of snowmen or gingerbread men socks that he turns to ask your opinion, only to find you nowhere in sight.

He peers around the store for a second, not spotting you anywhere, before he suddenly feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. Your picture flashes across his screen and when he answers, the first question out of your mouth is, “Where are you?”

Where is he? Where are you? You were supposed to be following him, he not-so-subtly reminds you.

“I'm by the Cinnabon,” you tell him, then make a sound like you're taking a sip of something. “They've got hot chocolate. Giving out free cups of it,” you say, and that has Soap's ears instantly perking up.

Oh. So that's what had you scurrying off in his time of need. Honestly though, he can't say he'd have done any differently if he had caught scent of it like you did.

His movements falter for a beat, slowly lowering both pairs of socks in his hands. “Get me a cup, will ya?”

“Sorry. Can't.”

‘Can't’?! Well, why not?

You inform him that they're only giving out one per person and they seem to be running a pretty tight ship, so it's not like you could sneak another under the radar. And that makes sense, he supposes. They want everyone to have a chance to enjoy some.

“But that's why I called,” you continue. “It looks like they're almost out. So if you want one, you gotta come quick.”

The sudden deadline has Soap's eyes darting down to the themed socks in his hands. If he leaves now, they'll no doubt be snatched up by someone else. But the prospect of a cup of hot chocolate is equally as tempting, if not more so.

After debating with himself for about half a second, he asks, “…Where’d ye say ye were again?” as he places the hangers back on their racks. “By the Cinnabon. Right.” He makes his way to the front of the store, moving as quickly as possible. “Wait there,” he tells you, and once he's out the door, he's running full speed, his shopping bags swinging violently in his hands. “I'm comin’!”

Gaz

The night before Christmas seemed as good a night as any to take a walk around the neighborhood. So once you and Gaz had bundled up all nice and warm, you went for a stroll around the block, heading wherever your feet decided to take you.

Over an hour later, you're both just enjoying the evening – giving cheerful greetings to passing neighbors, turning down unexplored streets as you try to soak in this gorgeous night.

It's as you come up to another fork in the road that Gaz suddenly realizes one of his shoes is untied. He stoops to tie the laces, eyes cast down in his concentration, and as he does, you continue walking ahead, completely unaware that you're leaving him behind.

By the time he's finished and stands up again, you've vanished into the middle of this unfamiliar neighborhood.

Damn it. There you've gone and done it again. He knew he should have invested in one of the backpack leash things you see parents try to wrangle their wayward kids in.

You’d both left your phones at home in order to try to fully immerse yourself in this experience, so now he's forced to go old school when it comes to finding you.

He knows you couldn't have gotten very far; it's only a matter of if you went one way or the other. He picks a direction at random and after walking for a moment, he comes across a passerby whom he asks if they've seen someone matching your description. When they say they haven't, he then doubles back, repeating the process in the opposite direction.

Before long, thankfully, Gaz thinks he spots you stopped in front of a house not too far in the distance. He jogs up to where you're standing, and when he comes within earshot, he jokes, “Need to get you a bell or something, hun.”

Though the joke was lame at best, you don't react to it at all; don't even seem to hear it, honestly, which is likely given how distracted you currently are.

Your focus is entirely drawn to the house before you, your back to the street as you stare up at the brick facade. The house is stunning, absolutely covered top to bottom in all sorts of Christmas lights and decorations. It's by far the best display you've seen all year, and a breath of pure amazement leaves your lips as you take it in.

“Wow…” The word clouds the chilled air with a light puff of smoke. “Isn't it beautiful?” your awe bleeds into your voice, making it gentle, dreamy, like a sweet bell ringing in his ears.

Your tone has Gaz turning to face you, watching how you marvel at the way the lights twinkle and shine. A kaleidoscope of colors reflect off your skin, and an almost angelic glow seems to radiate from within you the longer he looks.

As he admires you, Gaz can't help how a smile slowly overtakes his face. With his eyes still trained on you, he takes your hand with his, and speaks softly, almost in a whisper, “Yeah… beautiful.”