Ghostface Dbd - Tumblr Posts

🔪Save a horse, ride a Cowboy🔪

Guess who had me stressing for minutes! 😭

I was debating if I should buy him or not

In the end I did buy him bc I love ghostface

And yes I play on mobile don't come for me 🥲

But with the ppl I played with they were super nice I guess bc I was also nice to them I wasn't taking the match seriously

Only bc I was trying to figure out how to use him and it's hard

But still it's so fun to use him

Y'all I'mma cry

For two reasons 😭

1. I was playing dbd and Meg was getting chased by frank and I saw her bring him to me so I dropped the pallet on him but I didn't know that it would also affect her so when she tried to get over it he snatched her 💀 and there I was like 🧍‍♀️ I didn't know what to do I didn't have a flashlight so I couldn't save her

2. I went up against a Ghostface and they were super friendly 😭 and the most wholesome about it was that they were only friendly to me sure they killed my whole squad but I forgave them 😍 they even opened the exit doors for me they literally confessed to me 🙄

danny johnson my princess 💞

instagram :3

alt colours under the cut :D

[Sing along if you find them attractive]

Mine version :)

The Start of a Family

Picture Perfect Series

Warnings: Sickness, Forced Pregnancy, Noncon

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: I love being a degenerate with him

-

The sound of your door creaks, footsteps light as they make themselves to your bed. You let out a low whine, turning over onto your back, your hands loosely grasping at the sheets. The bed dips and you mumble your partner’s name. You believe it to be Danny, you're so sure of it, yet the hands that hold your face and they feel off. The skin is smooth, pressing into your cheeks without the press of nails. You feel off. It’s a slight feeling that twists at your stomach and you’re unable to figure out why. You open your eyes, your vision blurry and mind delirious with sleep, the only thing you’re able to make out is white, blurry at the edges and mixed with black and in your state, you think it's Danny coming home from work.

You whimper his name, closing your eyes and reaching your hands to grab at his face. However, instead of stubble that pricks your skin, it’s plastic, almost rubber in it’s feel and your hands edge towards the middle, meeting mesh. You open your eyes, blinking harshly in an effort to erase sleep from your eye but in that moment, a hand covers your mouth. It’s heavy and forceful, covering the lower half of your face, the body now above you, legs straddling you and the full body weight pressed onto you, digging into your hips. Your eyes widen, and beneath the hand, the name of your partner is muffled. You believe it to be a sick joke but when your lamp turns on, the glaring light shooting against your face, your blood turns into ice. You go rigid, your hands trying to pry off the one on your face, so desperate for air and yet, the force stays solid above you.

Terror spikes throughout your body, eyes wide and sickness thick on your tongue that you fear you’ll become sick against him and the thought of what he might do in that case terrifies you. His petrified look of a scream haunts you, mesh black that stares at you and with a body covered in black, he blends into the darkness, his body evaporating but weight still heavy on you. He wastes no time, removing your clothes and his, his body bare above yours and hands finally away from you but instead of hitting him, you lay there, with your hands over your eyes, as his mask brushes along your collarbone. You thought you were safe; you really thought that you were safe.

“Did you miss me?” Ghostface whispers, his breath nothing more than a wisp against your skin. “Because I missed you.” You let out an ugly wheeze in response, your palms wet with tears. “I miss you so much that it hurt.” His hands- covered by gloves- scratch against your skin, they squeeze against a breast, fingers pushing into your supple breast. “I couldn’t take it. I had to see you. I had to feel you under me, writhing and squirming-” his other hand cups at your sex, two digits pushing past your folds and teasing at your entrance- “feeling your cunt milk my cock.” His gloved fingers squirm inside of you, massaging at your walls, encouraging for the tight fit to become smoother. “Did you miss me?”

You take in a loud breath, peeking between the gaps in your fingers, looking to the door that remains open. “Danny,” you gasp, hoping that by saying his name, he’ll appear. The fingers inside of you stop inside of you. “I want Danny.” Tears slide down and wet at the crevices in your ear, and slip to the bed sheet beneath you.

“Danny, huh?” You look at him when he speaks, chills running across your body. “Is that your boyfriend’s name? The one with the camera at all my crime scenes?” Your mouth is stuffed with his gloved hand, the taste of your essence lingers against your tongue. “You know he’s a bit too involved, walking around, staining the soles of his shoes with blood.” His cock is erect, pressed harsh against the inside of your thigh, slipping past your folds and pressed against your entrance. “I wonder what he would do if he saw you getting fucked by the Ghostface?” He pushes himself inside of you, and you let out a wail muted by the hand that sickens you. “You’d think he’d join in?” He rocks inside of you, steady and hard, making sure to slam himself against your hips. “He could fuck your mouth with I fuck your pussy.” He lets out a breathless laugh, his mask closing in on you until you can smell the scent of alcohol on his breath. It’s intoxicating in all the wrong ways- thick and bitter, making your stomach churn and acid creep into your throat. “Fuck, that would be something, huh?” He slams himself back into you, grunting and letting out your name intermixed with his moans.

“Stop,” you cry, hiccupping and choking on your tears. Your hands clutch at your chest, stopping the bouncing motion from his roughness. “Please, just stop. I haven’t told anyone, please. You can go away,” you cry harder, wishing for death. “Just kill me,” you wheeze out, your chest stuttering with your heavy cries.

He pauses, stilling his movements for a moment, his head tilting. “Kill you?” He breathes out. He shakes his head. “No, no,” he repeats. “I could never kill you.” He resumes his thrusting, pushing himself deep inside of you. “I love you too much to ever do anything like that to you. Did you know that?” Despite his mask, you know that he’s staring into your eyes, watching for any reaction that you can give to him. “I love you so much. And when you get pregnant-” his hand curves over your belly- “you’ll never be able to escape me.” Your eyes go wide, and you suck in a deep breath. “You’ll look so cute with a round belly.” The mesh of his mask presses against your lips. His lips wet at the mask and his spit is on your lips. “You’ll be plump and begging for my cock, knowing that it was me who did that to your body.”

He’s ruthless. A true monster disguised as a human as he ravages your body. With every push inside of you, is a groan of despair from you, your cunt leaking with your arousal, slipping to the inside of your thighs and down his length. You lay beneath him, crying and holding onto him, feeling a pressure against your stomach when he releases inside of you. It’s thick and warm, burning your inside and it's pushed inside of you. You cry his name, “Ghostface,” begging for mercy as he continues his rutting, burying his cock inside of you until he’s drained and you’re full of seed.

-

Danny finds you in the morning, curled up with dried tear stains. Your clothes stick to you uncomfortably, your underwear feeling as if it were stuck to you, drenched with his semen that had spilled out. Danny walks to you, crouching to a squat as he brushes your hair away from your face.

“Nightmares again?” He asks in a low whisper, and you nod, your lips trembling as you go to hug him, sobbing against his shoulder and clinging to him like a child. “It’s okay,” he says gently, running his hand down your back, “it’s okay. I’m here now. It was just a bad dream.” He crawls into bed with you, pulling you close to him, his chin resting on the top of your head while you curl up on his lap, resting your head on his chest. “They’re just nightmares, they aren’t real.”

“It felt real,” you mumble, your head curving around his belly, letting your thumb arc over him. “I wished you were here last night.” A sob interrupts you and you’re soothed once again by Danny. “I wanted you here,” you cry, pressing yourself closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I wish I was here. I know how bad your nightmares can get.” His hand stills for a moment, clenching the back of your shirt into his fist. “But you were the one who didn’t want to move in with me, remember?” You nod slowly. “You can’t just guilt trip me into this. I’m sorry and I wish I were here but-”

“Danny?” You whisper, clenching his shirt loosely. He hums in response. “Can I move in with you? Please?” You can hear his heartbeat quicken, the hand on your back coming loose and returning to the soothing touch. “I don’t want-” you pause and look at him- “I miss you too much.”

“Of course you can.” His hand manages to find a way to hold yours, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and kissing each gently. “I would love nothing more than to have you at home with me.” His lips trace up a finger, kissing the tip of your thumb. “I’ll keep you safe there. Away from this place with all those gross memories- you’ll be safe with me.”

-

You lay on his bed. It’s not the first time, it’s nothing more than a bed you’ve both shared in the past and yet, now as you sit on it, it’s foregien to you. It’s nothing more than a bed, a bed that you share now because his home is now your home. The comforter has loose threads that you wrap around your finger until it pales and turns dark at the skin that protrudes from it. Your stuff is organized, fixed and moved into a space that he has made for you. You’ve come into his space and he’s made sure to welcome you.

The door clicks and you can hear him, his heavy footsteps and the jingle of his keys. “Honey, I’m home!” He sings, followed by a laugh and he’s searching for you throughout the house. Your heartbeat quickens and the comforter is gripped in your hands. “Want to go out to eat?” His voice sounds far away and you’ve realized you’ve forgotten to make a meal for him. For the both of you. “We can order take-out or something.” His voice is growing closer and you stare out the window expecting to see Ghostface but there’s no one there. “You know, since it’s a special night.” His voice is close, and when you turn, he’s at the doorway, loosening his ties and running a hand through his hair. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you whisper out. “I’m just- I feel so out of place here, you know?” You give out a shaky laugh as tears threaten to form, a lump in your throat as you release your grip and hold out your arms.

He’s quick to hold you, his face pressed against your neck and arms wrapping tight around you. “You shouldn’t. This is your home now.” He pulls away and kisses your lips, his nose bumping against yours. “You’re allowed to be comfortable here.” He pulls away, his hands holding onto yours. “I didn’t want to ask yesterday because we were both tired and hungry, but do you want to go take a picture? Something to commemorate our living situation?”

You stare up at the man who has kept you safe and you pull him down, kissing his lip and gesturing for him to get on the bed with you. He must understand what you want, why you want him to get on the bed with you, because in the same moment, he unbuttons his shirt and teases at the hem of yours. His hands stop there, his knuckles brushing against your stomach and for a moment, he stops, he pulls away from the kiss and licks his lips. Your only response is to remove the shirt yourself, continuing until you’re naked in front of him.

His lips brush against yours, his breath warm and hands lingering on your bare sides. His eyes stay fixed on yours, his thumb arching on your body, a shiver running down your spine. Your heart is beating erratically, so loud that you think he might hear it. You hesitantly raise your hands to cup his face, licking your lips when you realize that your hands have started to become clammy. You pull away from him, enough to no longer fear that he might see how flushed that you’ve become.

“I- I wanna do something else to commemorate.” You roll your lips, nervously swallowing, your legs twitching and stomach churning. “If you don’t mind.”

He stares at you with blank eyes and a parted mouth for a second until his smile grows, pulling high on the corner of his lips. He nods, leaning towards you, your hands falling onto his chest when he kisses you. It’s a blur of the moment, feeling his fingers edge against your sex, brush so carefully against your clit, and you’re gasping for breath under him, hidden in the crook of his neck with tears in your eyes.

His fingers are coarse, touching your sensitive bud, rolling it under his fingertips and he tries to move you, to signal for you to show him your expressions as he touches you, but you can’t. You stay hidden, digging your nails into his back and shaking your head. With your eyes shut tight, with only darkness in your vision, you can picture someone other than your partner. You picture him. You swear that you can feel his hands on you, but instead of the roughness, it’s gentleness, it’s him being tender, focusing on your pleasure and making you gasp and whine under him. You’ve never taken a proper look at his hands, but they’re thick, spreading your cunt and massaging at your walls, while you buck against him, feeling the tip of his cock against your thigh.

You arch your back into his chest, hissing at the contact and clutching tighter to him, squeezing his fingers in your cunt. A hand slips between and palms at your breast. He’s eager and clumsy, grabbing at your roughly and you hold on tighter to him, whimpering under his touch and his only response to hold you tighter, to pinch at your skin and push himself knuckle deep inside of you, adding a third finger and then a fourth, your sex burning with the spread and you’re calling his name, pulling away with tearstained eyes only to be kissed roughly.

Tears catch on your lashes, your hands digging into him, wanting to draw blood and get him off but at the same time, wanting him to never stop, to continue until he’s the one who has touched your body to the full extent.

He pulls away, the hand on your breast going to wipe a tear away, his head tilting and smiling softly. He looks much younger and handsome with the gentleness on his features. “Condom?” He asks in a low whisper.

While maintaining eye contact, you shake your head. Your hands hold him, and you pull him for a kiss. When his lips are on yours, you leave him, your hand slipping between your bodies and going to grab at his erection. He moans against you, bucking his hips into your hand while his tongue slips into your mouth. It lasts for a moment, the intimacy of holding him, only to disappear when he’s inside of you, pushing past your already stretched hole and pushing himself deep inside of you. He pulls away, face above you while he grunts and holds your hand, calling you everything sugar and nice. He kisses you with a gentleness that you don’t remember ever feeling.

It isn’t long until you’re clenching around him, gasping his name out and arching your back. You plead to him- begging for him to not stop with tears in your eyes, to be a bit rougher and you allow for him to spill inside of you. He’s hot inside of you, spilling his seed deep into your womb and making you warm all over. He doesn’t stop pumping inside of you, the tenderness making you gasp out and hands clench into loose fists. He holds you close, his cock fully inside of you, not allowing a droplet of semen to be wasted and you hold him, crying and thanking him, kissing at his neck and holding him there with you.

-

You rest your hands in the sink, the small space of the bathroom putrid as the air reeks of acid. Your stomach swirls and your eyes are filled with tears. Your throat burns and the birds sing their morning song outside. You want to believe that you woke up sick; that whatever it is that made you throw up is nothing more than the stomach flu.

But you know better. You know that it isn’t the flu. It’s something worse, something much more than it could ever be. You wish it were the flu. The bathroom drawer scratches open, your hands reaching towards the back where you’ve hidden your box, and when you pull it out, the box rattles in your hand and your heart sinks.

It takes only a few minutes until your timer is beeping, and you’re quick to stop it. Your hands shake as you grab the pregnancy test. You pray and you aren’t sure for what, but when you look at the pregnancy test, two loans, a faint red, stare back at you and you let the plastic clatter against the sink as you sob.

SILLY LITTLE BOY ‼️💢💢 (he's definitely not)

*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