#dead by daylight x you

[diejager]

Yandere Pyramid what if he gets reader pregnant Just go crazy with this hahaha

(IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE I DON'T KNOW BUT WITH HIS AMOUNT OF CUM I WOULDN'T DOUBT IT)

Paring : YANDERE Pyramid Head x fem!reader

Cw: smut, possible NON-CON/DUB-CON, tentacle tongue, possessive behaviour + sex, breeding, pregnancy, creampie, belly bulge, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 674

He'd go wild at the idea of knocking you up, watching your soft stomach bloat with a new life and your breasts swell, nipples leaking milk that he could suck until his kid came out. He'd fuck you until you get pregnant, stuffing you with his cum and his cock, keeping every little swimmers inside your bulging heat. He liked watching you strain around his girth, walls twitching and closing tightly around him, your cries echoing under his metal pyramid.

It's a ritual, every night, any spare moment, he'd have you sprawled under him, rutting his length into your red, swollen cunt until you grew limp, a little cumdump for him. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, pushing against your womb's entrance and pumped generous load after generous load into your warm, fertile womb, a virgin to childbirth.

Whether he had you under him, pounding away the hours of the night - or day if he felt like it - over him, riding his thick and veiny cock until your slick covered his whole abdomen, or against a wall, rattling the structure with his punching thrusts when felt especially feral; he made sure to cover you in his musk, body smelling of him with reminders of last night, dark bruises marring your skin.

They were brandings of the finest he could give (other than his seed branding your spasming cunt as his little cockdrunk survivor.) to show others who you belonged to. He's had his possessive strikes, growling at killers and survivors who got too close to you for his liking, waving his broadsword and shaking the ground in strong ripples.

Pyramid Head was exceptionally possessive, being a creature of grief and regret created for a sole purpose, granting him nothing to his name or soul to own. Such a situation makes a person - any person - possessive of their things, like a child deprived of toys and love, they grow possessive and careful.

And to add a child, some would think he'd hate his child for taking most of your attention, your affection and your time, but this child was from yours and his blood, a creation of yours. It was the second thing he could call his own, a living being - beside you - he could care for and nurture, it played with a more domestic side of him. It would simply mean he'd take more drastic and scary measures.

Just a big, broad Pyramid Head growling at anyone with his equally big toy in hand, truly the scariest guard dog in The Entity's world (Guard dog privileges+).

Extra: during the pregnancy

Man is oblivious to the struggle of women, especially pregnant ones. Mood swings and odd cravings make him scratch his head in confusion. Was it safe to eat pickles, then peanut butter and tuna in a sitting? Would it be bad if you woke up in discomfort and your stomach was ready to empty itself?

He's as clueless about childbirth as a baby, every step had to have help from The Nurse and The Doctor, both having some experience with pregnancies in their previous lives. Reluctantly, he'd call for them once he sees you hunched over a bowl, puking yesterday's food. If there was a step-by-step book about pregnancies, perhaps a 101 tips about pregnancies for noobs, Pyramid Head would need it, he needs all the help he can get.

He knows not fuck you, naturally, for the safety of his child. That, however, doesn't stop him from pleasing you, using his thick fingers to pump and curl into your upper wall and flick your swollen clit when your hormones act up and you get horny; or he'd tonguefuck you into overstimulation, with his tentacle-like tongue that slithers from under his mask, long and wet. He's agile with it, twisting his tongue in every sense and curling it into a ball to fuck you.

He's talented with his cock, his fingers and his tongue, nothing can stop him from caring for your needs, he's skilled in many ways.

#yandere x reader #pyramid head dbd #pyramid head x reader smut #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head #pyramid head smut #dbd smut #dbd x reader #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight smut #dead by daylight x reader #Dead by daylight pyramid head #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x you

[airbendertendou]

safety [of a killer’s arms]

gender neutral reader. no killer in mind so they/them pronouns used. killer is bigger / taller than reader [bc they're a lil monstorous it makes sense in my mind]

synopsis : an unnamed survivor [he/him] makes you feel sour - for lack of better words. one trial, you find yourself running to the murderer instead of away.

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

he always made you uncomfortable. sliding up beside you at the campfire ; his hands lingering when he patched you up ; sly nicknames that made your skin crawl. with a gulp, you flinch as the generator you’re working on finished, lighting up the spot you were hiding at.

taking in a deep breath, you stand and slowly observe your surroundings. the lack of a heartbeat and chilling feeling of being watched was absent — you were safe for now. you tread along carefully, eyes peeled for any sudden movements.

“[name],” the hairs on your arms prickle just at the sound of his voice. you don’t turn — you only continue moving forward. “we’ll be safer together. come stand with me.”

you ignore him. lips parted, your breathing struggles to steady as panic starts to build up. you can hear his feet shuffle behind you ; he’s starting to speed up to catch you. “[name], come on! it’s only us now.”

it sounds like a threat. his tone is reassuring, words light and airy, but it still feels like threat. it’s only the two of you ; no one else around. you gulp again, speeding up just a little more. he lets out what sounds like a laugh, “are we playing a little cat and mouse game?”

“go find another gen,” you call out over your shoulder. you quicken your pace a bit more, “we can still win this.”

“i did win, [name].” he lets out another laugh — it sounds menacing ; dark. everything a survivor shouldn’t be. “i’ve got you, all to my self.”

your heartbeat picks up, pounding in your ears. on the edge of a sprint now, you can see the killer of this trial in the distance. you speed up more, ignoring the muffled curse behind you as you barrel straight into their arms.

a vice grip is around their torso. arms around their waist, you bury your head into their neck as your breath leaves in panicked pants. “jus’ kill me,” you whimper out. “please.”

their hands are raised above them, weapon still poised from when they prepared to swing it at you. curiously, their eyes fly to where you came from ; to where your fellow survivor had now made himself known.

“[name],” you whimper at the sound of his voice. his eyebrows furrow, playful smile falling from his face and growing stern. “let them go. now.”

“he won’t leave me alone.” you whisper it into their chest as you burrow further into them. “watching me. waiting for me. touching me. i— he won’t leave me alone.”

their hands had fallen to your hips now, peeling you away from their torso. you whimper again but relax when they pull you behind them. just what had this man done — what had he made you feel — that was so bad you looked to a murderer for comfort? for safety?

he lets out a huff, taking a step closer. you mold yourself into their back in retaliation. “[name], come on. we have to win this game. jus’ you an’ me now.”

you want to scream at him. want to cry and yell and hit him until he stops talking ; until he stops eyeing you so desperately and hungrily. phantom fingers dance on your thighs, reminding you of the hidden touches he’d take from you ; careful whispers echo in your ears of the things he’d do to you once you were alone.

you couldn’t go with him ; refused to.

the killer of the trial made a show of raising their weapon again before they flung it toward him, hitting him directly in the chest. with a small oof!, he falls to the floor before struggling to get back up. as he limps away, he glares at you and it feels more sinister than the heart beating in your ears.

“safe.” it’s a promise. your killer pats your shoulders as gently as they can, moving you so that you’re a little more hidden. they crouch so that your eyes look into theirs, “safe.”

stay here, and you’ll stay safe. i’ll take care of him while i’m gone.

the breath of relief you let out is immediate. and it’s so stupid — how secure you do feel with someone who’s life revolves around murder. but, compared to the creeping touches and lingering gazes of your fellow survivor, they are a safe haven.

they come back after a scream of terror hits the area you’re in, drenched in blood and almost skipping with joy. gently, your hand is looped into theirs as they tug you along the map.

“home,” they say. “take you home.”

and so you’re lead to the hatch, lowered into it because your legs are too shaky to handle your own weight. before you fall, your fingers grip onto the edge of it and you peer up at the killer once more. your lower lip trembles, “thank you. i can’t say it enough — thank you.”

every trial with them after that feels gooey — warm — as you’re always saved for last and treated less harshly than the others. he never looks at you again ; instead he shakes in fear at the thought of you and the giant bodyguard you’d acquired.

lingering gazes come from outside of the campfire now — but they make you feel protected and watched over ; safe. they always manage to make you feel safe.

idk where this came from so don't even ask hehe <<33 tagging it w killers i thinlk would act like this but you can always add your fave <3 airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#dead by daylight imagine #dead by daylight imagines #dead by daylight fluff #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dbd ghostface #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson imagines #the legion x reader #the legion dbd #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison imagine #joey x reader #susie x reader #trickster x reader #the trickster dbd #jiwoon hak x reader #ji woon hak imagine #ji woon hak x reader #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head dbd #michael myers x reader #the shape dbd #the spirit dbd #rin yamaoka x reader #the hillbilly #the trapper #im running out of tags #📍masterlist

[clarks-letterman]

Danny reuniting with Reader- an old childhood friend- in the Entitys Realm ?

Reader can be Survivor or Killer , i think both concepts could be fun :]c

old friends | danny johnson x gender-neutral reader

a/n — hope its good! haven’t written for dbd yet and tried to make some stuff more plausible and fleshed out, and i really hope it doesn’t contradict any messy lore the game has!

words — 1.5k

~~~

When Danny woke up in the Entity's realm, he was unsurprised to find himself the sole addition to an already established line of powerful killers. He made a scary tale of himself to haunt survivors—you never know when he could be watching—and got as close to a "friend" as he could be with the other masked murderers like him, and with the wannabes that never could be him. But it wasn't always like that.

In his hometown, someplace far from where he'd eventually end up, he went to school most of the year, had a job over the summer, and made one good friend for any time he needed comfort. He usually didn’t, but there were times when he wanted to toy with someone’s feelings in a way that kept violence out of it. Animals were an enjoyable enough target for him to keep him off of people, like the occasional rabbit or frog strolling through his backyard.

That’s what it started as, at least. It was surprisingly simple to get on your good side; he lent an ear when you needed it and stayed distant when he knew he had you hooked. But he grew to like you as an actual friend with the more time he spent around you, both when you knew about it and when you didn’t. As he got older, he found himself having fewer and fewer friends. Because alongside his age, his twisted mind became more and more obscured, and in his aim to hide it, he hid more of himself away. What once was a tactic to draw you in eventually stopped working, and you confronted his hot and cold behavior.

It became fitting for his job and hobby, needing to hide himself behind the camera’s eye and tucked away in the darkness around his victim’s houses. Now, the latter seemed to be the most useful in the latest game the Entity conjured up. He tries not to think about how it severed the connection he had with his only real friend.

Danny looked around the new location—a line of houses with a four-way street meeting in the middle to divide each house into their own irregularly shaped yard and fence. It looked homely, like the defunct township of Springwood and the segment of old townhouses on the street he knew as Lampkin Lane.

Darting off, he made sure to creep around the edges of the arena, prowling around with a glint in his eye. He heard the swish of footsteps towards a generator as he rounded a car on the street. The night covered him on command. He raised his blade and peered around the corner. Two sacrifices for the Entity worked on the archaic machinery, one covered by the generator as Danny was on the opposing side, and the other was to the left side of it, open and vulnerable. His eyes lingered on the subject—small, male, companion, wrapped in bloody business-casual. The generator chimed with rapid success, so Danny discerned the figure to be the wimpy scampered Dwight Fairfield.

Danny felt a chill of excitement run along his spine; the self-imposed timer had started—a moment where he knew his victim in and out, able to deal the most damage with the least effort to them. Dwight finally noticed the shadowy figure to his right and made a run to the nearest house. Danny pursued the fleeing man, passing the second person working on machinery to chase the easier target. He followed closely behind Dwight through the doorway he entered and into the house.

He trailed behind him on the wooden stairs and swung for his ankles with a missed strike, leaving a chipped divot in one of the steps. Dwight ran to the end of the hall where there was a window—surely, he would take it—so Danny planned to swing again. But, Dwight made a hard left into the room next to it, and he missed his attack for the second time. He turned, looked into the room, and another open window looked right back at him. The bedroom wall made a great frame for the street just outside. Out beyond the view, he heard the sound of two generators starting up with a sputter, and he knew that a third one was soon to be tackled.

He was down the stairs and out the door in seconds, running to just barely meet the cutoff for Dwight’s impending doom by using his sharpened senses to pick up on where the frightened man could have gone. Without much work, he found him just in time as he cowered near a small bush for coverage, hoping he would be overlooked. Unfortunately for Dwight, Danny had him cornered and gravely injured with one sweep of his knife across his back.

The second survivor came running towards him as he picked up Dwight: a taller, lighter-haired guy in a blue cop uniform. Leon, Wesker said his name was. He was one of the more pesky survivors, as he had the ability to craft the most annoying form of counter-play against someone on the opposite team. His flashbang went off without much help this time, though, and Danny managed to keep his hold on Dwight firm. He swung for Leon, got him once, and tracked down a hook to throw Dwight on.

No one came for the poor schmuck, as usual. No one looked for him when he was still considered alive, and the same went for him now, as the Entity’s grasp sent a wave throughout the playing field that the other side was down a team member. Danny managed to down Leon without the wasted time needed to study him and lured the third survivor his way, injuring him and sending him into a sprint for his life. Eventually, he downed him as well and had the both of them resting peacefully before meeting their dooms on hooks across the map. He saw a glimpse of the fourth and final survivor as they ran around a corner, though Danny was carrying his third victim at the time and solely focused on getting them on a hook above all else.

Danny receded into the darkness, letting it shroud him in it as he traversed the map, looking for the final member of the game. That’s when he saw them in the same room he had chased Dwight up to, investigating the wall of all things. He was sure of it, as strange as it sounded, because he couldn’t recall a generator appearing in that room, let alone that floor of the house. Regardless, he made his way back up and through the door. He hit you once while you were distracted and twice when you took the window as a form of escape, watching you fall on the other side.

The scream sounded painfully familiar to one in his past. His trained ears recognized it as the same scream from when you had accidentally scared yourself into thinking a dust bunny was the same deadly spider in Australia. Danny’s legs shook as he stepped over the window he didn’t cross through earlier and out onto the small ledge, realizing that this was the same window he had been ushered out of as a teenager when you weren’t allowed to have friends over and had to sneak him in, or when he would happily invite himself into your home. He looked around, taking in the sights now that he wasn’t pursuing anyone. This place was more than just a haunting image of homeliness; it was his home—hell, it was your whole damn block.

He rushed over to you, simply standing for a moment, watching you turn and do your best to look up at him. Danny had the advantage of wearing a mask, so he could get as close and as personal as he wanted. Unless, in the months or years that had gone by in the real world, you finally caught wind of his cross-country endeavors. Not wanting to give himself away, he hoisted you over his shoulder as he would with anyone else, leaping off the ledge and onto your front lawn. He felt your fists pounding against his back, struggling and fighting to be free. His one hook near the house had been used for a sacrifice, and the nearest one was still too far for him to make it in time. With a strange feeling of relief, you had worn him out for a moment, and you ran away from him, limbering for a final chase that never came.

Danny seemingly disappeared but had cloaked himself in the night again to stalk you from afar. He watched you run straight to the open hatch on the floor. He had decided that he studied you long enough with his stare; he knew all of your weak points and where to strike first, but he couldn't bring himself to approach you when you were so close to freedom. With a huff that echoed in his mask, he watched you disappear into the darkness, and the Entity surrounded him until he was deep in the woods with a few killers that hadn't been called for a match.

#x male reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x female reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson x you #danny johnson x gender neutral reader #danny johnson x gn reader #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd x male reader #dead by daylight #dbd fanfic #fanfic #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x male reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x male reader #ghostface x you #danny johnson x male reader #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader

[sillygoosealert]

hiii🌚🌚 you should totally make a little thing where we’re running from danny during a trial and get stuck in a window while trying to vault and yk.. he fucks us from behind and it’s like a “help me step bro i’m stuck🥺” kinda position yk HEHEHE 😈😈😈

Sorry i fell off the face of the earth for a few days i had to like idk reset myself ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ

Never say step bro I'm stuck again I'm not even joking I'll block you, Stinky

Danny Johnson NSFW, raw, has no aftercare, and a little plot but mainly smut, he’s MEAN (cannon bc because he murders people), um actually he's also COCKY (cannon bc he kills people), and he calls you piggy ( cannon because he likes horror and that is a black Christmas reference) knife stuff

Fog whisps around you as you are forced into another trial. Another day another round. Is it day, or is it night? You may never find the answer.

The entity is cruel in your clothing, a skirt to your mid-thigh, and a button down. Nothing to keep in the warmth. Nothing to hide you from the reality that is the cold red forest.

You think your teammates must all be together- not including you, because a generator is done at lightning speed. Then you hear guttural screams, plural, also at lightning speed. Maybe you shouldn't get them, you'll too just die. Survival of the fittest. They won't remember the trial if you let them die, it's like they have a reset- or something.

You're crouching, lurking, and waiting. Not for long, as The Ghostface jumps out at you.

‘Boo’

He's snickering and taunting you. Mocking the screams of your now-fallen teammates.

A jungle gym is in sight, if you abuse the window and stun him, perhaps the hatch could be located. Maybe you're too tubby, or maybe because the entity is against you, but the window gets blocked from the top halfway through. You do not make it, you are stuck.

He’s snorting and making animal noises behind you.

‘What’s the entity feeding you that you can’t get through the windows?’

‘Oh, it’s blocked.’

He grabs your thighs and tries to pull you out. However, his pullout game must be weak as you do not budge.

He keeps his hands on your thighs as he whistles.

‘Can you not get out?’

‘No?’

‘Does this happen a lot?’

‘First time actually’

You're shivering, it's too much. He's too casual about it.

‘I could cut you in half and play magician, that would be rather amusing ’

‘Please don't’

‘Do you have something else in mind, piggy?’

Nothing. Actually, you're crying a little, but you don't say anything.

He starts to coo and awe at your noises, rubbing and kneading your ass.

He goes around to your other side and pulls out his camera. You’re a mess. Wiping away tears from your cheeks and eyes.

‘That's it. Perfect. That's the picture I'll keep of you.’

He’s taking a couple photo’s. More than needed. Maybe he likes it when you cry, the glossy kind of look.

‘Just me and you babe, whatever will we do?’

He snaps the band on your panties. You just realize nothing is left to his imagination from where he is now standing again.

‘Are you scared?’

‘A little’

There isn't any reason to tell the truth or lie to him. But you think he likes it when you're scared, something kinky.

The cold plastic of his mask is pressed into your ass. He's sniffing you..?

You can feel the squeeze of his hands on your thighs, groaning into them.

He takes off the mask, not that you can him. But the feel of his warm tongue is enough to assume he took it off.

But that's not the only thing to come off, as he slips off your panties as well.

Spreading open your folds, you can hear the shudder of the camera as he takes pictures of your pussy.

You know it's wet, it was dripping on your underwear. What lewd photos he now will have. Blackmail material?

He begins sucking on your clit, shoving his face into you.

Messy, unplanned, and purely out of want.

That's not how Danny usually went. Besides all the times he did things out of rage, like the laser tag incident..

After he's mixed his spit into your cunt, he's ready.

Pulling up his cloak and pulling down his pants, he stares at you.

You're pretty. And you have a nice ass.

Maybe you would make a good girlfriend, maybe.

But he just wants to fuck you right now, really hard

He pumps himself before sliding in.

He's thick, but also kinda lean?

You're shaking again, this is much too abrupt for you

Pinching your leg, he pulls out his blade.

‘A little blood never hurt anyone, right?’

He starts to cut into your thigh. His thrust growing more erotic

Putting the knife away, he smacks the place he just sliced up

Yelping, you start to cry, again.

‘I like that- you crying. Sob for me’

‘You're doing good, do you like merely laying there as you get violated? This could happen to anyone, whore or not. Does that scare you?’

A rhetorical question, he just wants you to cry while he scratches your bleeding leg.

He starts to rub your clit, whipping his knife out again.

‘Where do you want me to put my signature?’

‘It hurts- stop, please..’

Caving GF into your back is a blur to both of you, as he is still occasionally slapping your body around while thrusting considerably too hard

He pulls out and cums all over your wounds, covering them slightly in semen.

‘People would be shaking if they saw this. Are you shaking because of me?’

You didn't even realize you weren't stuck anymore. Only after you fell backward you realized.

‘I'm going to let you go back. But I want you to tell them what I did to you- scare them. Let them know they are not safe from me.’

‘Okay, I promise, I'll tell them’

He picks you up and walks around with you clinging to him.

When you are near the hatch, he puts you down.

‘A picture- for you, to keep’

He's sitting with you on the ground, keeping you in his lap. Putting his face right next to yours- actually, you don't remember when he put the mask back on. You didn't get to see his face.

The light hurts, but he gives you a little polaroid with the two of you face to face, cheek to cheek.

It would be cute if he didn't just cut up your legs

Tucking the photo into your bra, he drops you into the hatch. How kind of him.

He waves goodbye, you do not wave back.

It wasn't bad, it was just a lot. Rushed? Scary? Harmful?

Kinda hot, but you really hope he doesn't keep those photos. For blackmail reasons..

🎀

#dead by daylight #dbd ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface #dbd killer #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dbd ghostface x reader #daisy writes #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson x you #jed olsen

[the-oracles-maw]

macushla

Playing cards with the Deathslinger

My first DBD fic!! contains: killer!reader, just straight up peepaw Caleb save a horse...

You could say you've settled into your role in this strange new world.

It's routine. You find yourself... somewhere. The Entity starves. It's your responsibility to feed it. When it is sated, you're sent back to the campfire. The Entity's food? You don't care to know. You've grown numb to it.

You've seen others who have a similar role to yours. Particularly two men and two women about your age. The thrill they get from their assignment by the Entity. Licking the blood from their knives and bats. As for you? Your eyes just linger on your hands coated in red. They would definitely be stained.

Your cohorts weren't much for conversation, save for the aforementioned killers your age. They were often met with a grunt or a cold shoulder.

Which is why you pondered endlessly about this bond you created with the Deathslinger.

Caleb thumbed through the deck of cards, dealing them between the two of you with almost impossible dexterity with rotting fingers. He never spoke much (perhaps that's what made it so easy for you to open up to him, you fear you'd annoy the old man.) When he did speak, it was an odd voice: a midwestern drawl somehow with a heavy Irish accent. It wasn't unpleasant.

His lips rise into a ghost of a smile and even his entire face seem to barely light up as you play your hand.

"'Might be the only person your age who knows how t' play twenty-five."

"I don't know," you shrug. "Back home we'd text each old games as a gimmick. I'd imagine there's a couple kids who know how to play because of that."

"Bah," Caleb waved his hand. "That don't count. Come on, now! Nobody appreciates the simplicity of the classics no more."

You shrug. "Guess not."

Caleb gives you a crooked smile. "Ain't many young folk like you no more, mo chuisle. I taught you well."

Caleb called you that a lot. Mo chuisle. A little more often than your actual name. And you were the only person whom he called by name. You never asked him what it meant.

Your conversations often went like this. Caleb would crack an uncharacteristic joke about your age, sometimes when he was in a good mood, you supposed within earshot of the group of friends called the Legion.

"What surprised me the most," you began, "was how sloppy they were." You eye the hand you intend to trump on Caleb. "It's like they're just sticking their hands into the live wires until something works."

"Suits you, don't it? Make it easier on you?"

"Eh, I think I prefer the challenge." You knew that was what exactly Caleb wanted to hear. His broken jaw made his proud smile comically lopsided. You fan out the cards you intend on trumping Caleb with, and he raises a brow, putting down his hand.

"You sure about that?" He asks lowly, eyeing your hand quizzically.

"What?"

"I think you should look at that hand again, mo chuisle."

You look at your cards again, and notice a fatal fumble in your hand that would have cost you the game. You fight a blush you feel coming onto your cheeks and sheepishly pull back your hand. "Huh..."

"Come on now, you know better than that."

Caleb wasn't sure what he saw in you. Or why he gave you such special treatment. There were a few "killers," he supposed that were around your age. A few too many, he supposed. What made you different? Was he unconsciously reminded of someone from his past? Did he think you were weak and needed protection?

He wasn't sure what it was about you that tugged at whatever was left of his heart that endeared him to you. It felt natural. He needed to protect you, and he didn't know why.

It was best he'd kept it that way.

"Look here," Caleb fanned out his set of cards for you, continuing on with the game you both briefly forgot you were playing. "I reckon we jink this, mo chuisle."

Mo chuisle.

Maybe one day, he'd tell you what your little nickname meant. One day, if you all somehow get out of here, or, when eventually, this dark God decides to turn on you all.

— mo chuisle: "my darling" "my blood" literally means "my pulse." macushla: the song where "mo chuisle" comes from.

#yeehaw #the deathslinger #Caleb quinn #caleb quinn x reader #deathslinger dbd #dbd x reader #dbd x you #Caleb Quinn x reader #Caleb Quinn x you #Caleb Quinn dbd #dbd deathslinger #dbd killer x reader #my writing #writeblr #dead by daylight x reader #dbd #dbd killer #peepaw caleb #platonic x reader #irish language #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x you #slasher x reader #slasher fic

[aeviiteernal]

Omg can you do a Myers (or maybe even Demogorgon if you write for him lol) with a Surviver who is basically IMPOSSIBLE to catch? Like their looping skills are insane and if he ends up getting them he cant feel good abt it bc all gens have been done in that done or everyone escaped😭

i love looping the killer for 5 gens <3 also sorry for not posting for a bit, been focused on my personal life and trying to hit a higher killer rank for the reset. but, i am still here AND alive !

Michael Myers

When Michael saw you in his trial, he knew it was going to be a tough one. After all, word from the other killers (and some matches himself) always groaned and complained how you could run them until everything was done.

He wanted to be the first one to finally kill you.

Thankfully for him, where the Entity had sent everyone was Midwich. Granted he brought the offering and was running scratch mirror but we won't talk about it..

Deciding to go into the trial with a plan: he wanted to lure you out through your teammates and pursue you immediately.

After downing half your team, Michael waits patiently for you to slip out and make your appearance...

To be expected, you finally made your grand appearance and Michael made his first move towards you.

You were trying to quickly patch up Nea, knowing for a fact it was a stealth killer as you heard no terror radius. That only solidified when a knife swept your back, making a deep cut. A yelp scream from your lips, forcing you to stop healing and start your chase.

With you injured, Michael thought he could easily down. Well... He was wrong.

You took him everywhere you could, going to different loops, winning his mind games--even him falling for yours--you tried your damn best to keep him distracted as the others did gens.

One, two, three... Michael lost track as his bloodlust intensified, only wanting to catch you. At this rate he would be incapable of salvaging this trial if he left now. So his only goal was to get you.

You made a mistake, a fatal one which pretty much landed you directly in his arms as he ripped you off the pallet.

For as silent as he can be, you could hear a frustrated exhale come from his mask as he went to throw you on a hook.

At least you know you wasted his time and made him resent you...

The Demogorgon

My sweet, sweet, demo...

An apex creature, causing quite a bit of trouble amongst survivors with its ability to track down anyone injured.

Of course, nothing that you couldn't handle.

Your team had a rather rough start, you were on Coal Tower and some of your team had been hooked which left you to be the only one that was never hooked once.

Neither was any gens done, so it was an anonymous agreement to have you distract the beast.

Not that you can complain, it was preferred you take chase anyways.

You walked through the blue realm, searching to find it. Thankfully it didn't take long as you stepped into direction line of sight of it.

And so the chase begins, not wanting to let your team down and to at least give them some hope.

Running around, you narrowly dodge its shreds, baiting them out by faking a vault and letting it smack against it.

Even if you got hit during chase, it never deterred you. You wanted to run for a million dollars.

As gens popped, the more the chase got intense. You were getting tired, and you know the Demogorgon was just as frustrated and tired. How could a human like you give it so much trouble?!

Eventually you were smacked to the ground and took to a hook. As soon as you were placed on it, the sound of the exit gates powering alerted the killer.

Although you may not be able to tell, you certainly did demotivate the demon as it ran off to go and get the rest of your team and try to get a second kill.

#dead by daylight x you #dbd x reader #michael myers x reader #demogorgon x reader #dbd headcanons #dbd x you #michael myers x you

[unwantedshivering]

NEW SURVIVOR

HEADCANONS of DANNY JOHNSON with a new survivor he finds attractive

WARNINGS: creepy stalking, typical danny stuff, perverse & sadistic thoughts, obsession

FOR: Ghostface ft. Dwight :]

Oh?

You suddenly dropped in one day during his trial, might he add, as though you were made for him. Disoriented, quivering and on unstable legs. It's Danny's instinct to prowl, hunt and observe, and he absolutely loves when there's new survivors — it's a new opportunity for him to see what your insides look like.

Are you terrified yet? You seem to be a bit too calm in the moment, but it was probably just setting in. Of course Dwight takes it upon himself to explain the generators to you, blah blah blah. Danny's attention is nothing more than a simple curiosity, that of a cat lazily pawing at a mouse. If you're lucky, he'll lose his curiosity quickly and your first death will be (almost) painless.

Unfortunately, you're not lucky at all. You blow a fuse on a generator, quickly disrupting the unnerving and almost faint caws of those ominous crows that seem to follow you everywhere. Dwight quickly hushes your surprised yelp, urging you to move quickly, but Danny's already behind you. His interest has been piqued, you're quite pretty when you're frightened.

To be fair, he had been behind you for quite some time. Ohh, you're easy to spook, aren't you? You're a quick learner, your fingers move diligently, but the pressure of being dropped in a game of life has you fumbling. He thinks you'd look good smeared in blood, a sweet rouge dotting your face as he watches those eyes go big and doe-like. Thinking about it gives him a small rush, and he idly twirls his knife as he stealthily slinks after you.

Dwight grabs your shoulder to make you crouch and you flinch, a sharp breath escaping your lips. Danny's own breathing falters.

He likes watching. He likes figuring out everything about the survivors, which killer they fear the most, how good they are in tough situations, how easy of prey they might be. The quiet whimpers of pain he inflicts upon them, the groans and limping, he could end it quick — but he doesn't choose to, he revels in their misery, prolongs it. All survivors have hope to escape, that's why The Entity chose them.

He loves breaking it. Of course, they'll occasionally escape through that damned gate or hatch, but when they don't it's almost artistic. He broke them down. He crushed their hopes, their small semblance of faith in leaving the hellhole they're eternally trapped in, even if it was for a single round. If he finds it particularly poetic, he'll even snap a quick photo. Danny's always been quite the romantic.

He's snapped many photos of you in the short time that he's known you. Your side profile, your smile at the awkward quip Dwight makes to ease your nervousness, all of it. Your hesitant movements and the changes in your face is something he finds charming. It's the way you're adapting even though he could practically smell the absolute horror radiating off of you, you're so fucking scared it's driving him crazy.

Danny plays with you. He wants you to be paranoid with every flash and click, every branch snapping you hear. It's amusing when you turn to his direction only to see nothing, no, he doesn't want you to see him yet. He has to get rid of that parasite sticking by your side first.

He decides then he wants you for last, like a sweet reward for his excellent trial. Yeah, he wants to see your hair disheveled and your limbs sprawled against the dirt. The Ghostface doesn't speak, none of the killers generally do, but he would whisper a description on how he'd gut you and see the realization of your predicament seep in. He wants it so badly. He wants — needs photos to commemorate the experience.

Deep down, Danny knows this is just an obsession formed over a baseless fascination. He wants to see what makes you squirm, but also you're attractive to him, so it works out for him perfectly. It also doesn't help that he believes you to be photogenic, and only The Entity knows how many survivors he would sacrifice just to see you covered in blood.

It's the pure notion of such a thing that would set him off. Are you a cryer or would you attempt to hold it in? How's your pain tolerance? Have you ever experienced such brutality and cruelness before him? Danny would love if the shimmer of your tears appeared in the photo as well as your contorted expression. These thoughts cross his mind as he hooks Jake and Feng.

Fuck.

It's getting harder to rein himself back in, but Danny is smart to know patience is a virtue. It bears fruit, beautiful fruit such as being the first killer in this endless loop to sink a knife into your side with a sick slick sound.

There was something watching you.

You felt it throughout the whole time you were in this weird dimension, your hair bristling as though there were eyes were locked onto your frame's every movement. You recounted the feeling hesitantly to Dwight as you were headed to another spot, and he pursed his lips before saying that it was most likely The Ghostface. You persisted for more answers, but he provided you none, stating most trials felt that way.

Dwight was nice, sticking by you and looking out for you as you tripped and messed up time and time again. "It's alright," he whispered, fixing up a generator skillfully. "It's your first trial, I was even worse when I got here."

It was sudden when you lost him, another blown generator and the building dread of something approaching. You ran away. You shouldn't have, Dwight even shouting after you, but you did anyway. It was too overwhelming, the fear had overtaken and your natural instinct was flight.

It had receded naturally as you left, but then the guilt had taken over. A piercing scream ripped through the air and you whipped your head around. It was him — Dwight. You should've just stayed put.

It was the moment you decided to step toward the sound to fix your mistake that an aggressive shove halted your movements, your body sent tumbling to the strangely wet soil. It was cold, dirt sticking to your hair and body, and a soft scream forced its way out of your mouth. You quickly turned over to attempt to stand, but then a dark, impeding mass of black seated itself right on your hips.

His name — you know how he got his name. The Ghostface and his startling white mask, forever in a petrified scream, your eyes were blown wide. It was one thing to hear about him and feel him, but his actual presence made your stomach churn. You thrashed and wriggled violently in hopes of forcing your way out from below him, but he kept his weight heavy upon your body, purposefully pushing his legs against your torso to cage you in.

As if to issue a warning, the Ghostface cut a slice into your thigh, and you released a silenced whimper. Stunning. You were stunning, he could analyze and study your every expression forever, maybe pry noises out of you no one else could.

Dwight's blood curdling cries worsened as the Ghostface wiped the knife he used to slash him down, head tilted and chest heaving. The exhilaration of hunting the other survivors was nothing in comparison to seeing you below him. There were clumps of filth across your face and hair, clothes ripped by the strangely sharp branches of the dead trees, your heartbeat spiking.

He could feel it. If he wanted to, he could reach down with his own two fingers and press against your thumping pulse in an oddly intimate fashion. Would you be bewildered? He wanted a picture for every face you could ever make — confused, angry, whatever.

"Has anyone done this to you before?" he asked before he could help himself, freakish mask leaning in closer to see every twitch on your visage.

Your eyebrows knitted together, he saw it. Something like that shouldn't have fascinated him as much as it did. With a shuddered breath, you spoke in a rasp. "I—I don't understand..."

Your alert eyes flickered toward his knife, and the Ghostface hummed. He smelt of cheap cologne.

"Dwight was babying you," he stated lowly, mockingly cocking his head to the side. The martyr. He bit off more than he could chew. "The nerd took it upon himself to try and save you, have your first trial be one where you survive. Isn't that fucking ironic?"

It was rhetorical, you knew it was, yet you answered anyway. "I know," you spat bitterly, turning away. It felt bad to have your own mistake be said so bluntly by a murderer of all people.

Weakly, you writhed underneath him for a chance to move, but his hold was too suffocating. Tears sprung up in your eyes. Why was this creep just watching? He didn't do much with his weapon, just kept staring with his hooded lids and breathing in your face as you struggled.

It seemed like the rise and fall of his chest quickened when that light glaze of frustration and fear appeared upon your face. He sucked in a hiss, craving to see those bewitching, translucent pearls stream down your features.

"Oh, you're a fucking cryer," he cooed. His hunting knife pressed against your cheek, the cold blade forcefully turning your head back to face his eery mask. "Look here, I need a good shot of those eyes before and after I sink my knife into that stomach of yours."

#danny johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #dbd ghostface #ghostface dbd x reader #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #danny johnson #jed olsen #dbd x reader #danny johnson x you #jed olsen x you #dbd x you #dead by daylight x you

[thefoxtherapist]

Affectionate

This was written for @cerasus--flores and is a rewrite of my old work from late 2018.

tags: Frank(Legion) x gn!affectionate!reader, its more fluff, so much fluff.

It wasn’t that an affectionate partner was out of the scope of normal for him, he’d experienced it before. But you were an exceptionally clingy lover. Frank let out a choked chuckle when you buried your face against his side, inadvertently tickling him again. “Baby, I gotta go. The trial is starting soon, don’t want the Entity getting mad at me. Again.” He ran his fingers through your hair as you looked up at him with a pout.

“Just a few more minutes? Please?” You all but begged him, batting your eyelashes at the man who sighed. He cupped your cheeks, twisting his body so he could bend down and kiss you. You reached up, running your fingers through his messy hair. “You need to brush this so bad.” You teased him and he rolled his eyes at you.

“It isn’t like the Entity exactly provides me a hair brush in ‘ere.” 

You continued to run your fingers through his tangled hair, pulling the tangles free as gently as you could. Frank closed his eyes as you fixed his hair for him, melting into the near domesticity of the scenario. He almost felt normal. His nose twitched when you began to kiss all over his face, dubbing his hair good enough for now.

Soft brown eyes opened to look up at you, blinking slowly. He moved quickly, faster than a normal human could, he pushed you onto your back on the couch. His body covered yours, careful not to crush you with all of his weight immediately. Frank felt more like a weighted blanket than anything else. You wrapped your arms around his waist, dragging him down properly on top of you in order to hold him.

“I thought you said you had to go?”

You teased him, your smile hidden against his neck as he laid on top of you. “Screw the Entity. It can wait. Or send somebody else. I’m not here for a long time, I’m here for a good time.” He lifted his head a little more to get a better look at you, his expression softening at your bright smile. You always knew how to get him where it hurt.

Frank nuzzled your cheek as he laid his head back down, arms on either side of you sinking into the cushions. His legs were a tangled mess with yours and you were just thankful the bullets on his belt weren’t digging into your skin. But you’d never pass up an opportunity to cling to your boyfriend, opting to give him a quick nuzzle back.

“Can’t we just stay like this forever?”

You felt his laugh reverberate your chest, a warm feeling filled you at the sensation, the sound. “I wish, baby. But we got a job to do. You gotta survive, and I..” Frank leaned up, kissing your chin. “Gotta kill ya.”  Frank’s words would have been chilling. But being in the trials for so long. None of it fazed you anymore.

He nudged your face a little, getting you in range to kiss you once more. His lips were cold against yours, they always were. As if he’d been outside the lodge the entire time. But it was a sensation you’d grown comfortable with, returning his eager kiss with several of your own.

After several moments, you pulled him against you again, his head resting against yours. “Hm..” You hummed and he quietly waited for you to continue your thought. You brought one hand up, trailing up his back, smoothing through his hair. “Do you think we would’ve gotten together if we’d met outside of here?” You could feel him smile against your skin at the question.

“I’d like to think so.” Frank admitted, pressing a kiss to your skin. “I’d like to think what we have was born from genuine attraction, not just some need for affection.” And you laughed at that, turning your head slightly to try and catch a glimpse of him. You could feel his smile, it soothed you greatly.

“Wow~ I forget that sometimes you can sound smart.”

Frank snorted, gently biting you, he ignored the faux ‘ow!’. “I’m a dropout, not a dumbass.” You tugged on his hair and with his own fake ‘ow’ he lifted his head to pout at you. His pout quickly melted with your lips on his for the nigh time that day. The Entity wouldn’t be happy with him cutting, but Frank couldn’t care less.

How could he?

“I love you, Frank Morrison~”

“And I love you.” 

#legion x reader #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison x you #dbd x reader #legion dbd #legion x you #dbd x you #dbd imagines #legion frank #dbd frank #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight #omg so many tags #gn reader #༻Tenebris #༻Seraph's Whisper

[rootsofdread]

MY COMMISSIONS ARE OFFICIALLY OPEN!! ❤️

i will currently only be taking two slots. no it's not a lot, but this is my very first time taking commissions, and i'll be taking these on top of art commissions so i don't want to overwhelm myself. i hope you understand!! 🫶

read below if you're interested in buying from me! thank you in advance if you are. i really appreciate it.

so these will be writing commissions, of course, as this is my main writing blog. the price is $1.00 for every hundred words. so 100 words is $1.00, 200 is $2.00, so on and so forth...i will round the word count up or down depending on the tens place. so, for example, if the work is 583 words, i would round it up to 600, or if it was 729 words, i would round it down to 700. anything under 5 goes down, 5 and above goes up.

i currently only take c$shapp and v3nmo (i've heard that tumblr doesn't like those words, so they're censored), i apologize if that's an inconvenience.

it would not be possible to estimate word count prior to writing, so the price will be calculated after i write it, but i can try to make it on the shorter or longer side if you would prefer that.

if you would like more than one piece done, like say multiple parts or chapters, those will have to be made as separate commissions, as i am a slow writer and it would be easier for everyone involved if i did one thing for one person at a time.

i am willing to do pretty much everything i allow for requests, so please go over my request rules [found on my carrd!] before contacting me. there is also a little more info regarding these commissions there on a new tab i added, so i would recommend reading it (but it's not required if you read this whole post)! anything not found listed under will do/won't do is up for discussion.

you can also commission me for non-DBD things if you would like to! i am familiar with a variety of things, and even if i'm not familiar, i enjoy getting to know new characters. i will write for self inserts, OCs, canon characters, as well as ships involving all of those (even canon x canon or OC x OC!) from any type of media and genre as well.

examples of my imagines can be found on my masterlist, [found here], and i currently have one full fanfic posted to [my AO3].

contact me through DMs here, @rootsofdread, on my main, @jawsplitter, or on discord @jawsplitter if you are interested. even if you can't currently buy from me, i am happy to answer any questions or concerns you may have, even if you think it might be silly. thank you for taking the time to read this and i look forward to working with you!

#💀 #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dead by daylight imagines #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x you #dead by daylight x you #this is scheduled! i am asleep when it posts but don't hesitate to contact me if you want to!! #i will reblog my art commissions post here when i wake up for those interested in that #have a good day everyone thank you take care :-)

[diejager]

ok hear me out imagine giving Danny/Ghostface the BEST head.

The type of head to make him stutter

he’s running his hands through your hair, praising you but also kinda degrading you while tears brim his eyes

asking for female pronouns/pet names but if your not comfortable I 100% understand I just love your writing and would like to see your interpretation on this :D

Hmmmmmmmm, I do like the thought of reducing Danny to a moaning mess >:]

Danny sputtered, his breath hitching as bit back a moan, hips stuttering and thrusting upwards. He ran his fingers through you hair, grasping it from the roots and soothing you, his hold neither harsh and rough, nor soft and caring. He was a mix of pleasurable arousal and thrilling danger. Danny was temptation, a creature of pure sex and wicked ecstasy, he was what you craved and what you needed.

He knew that, he knew of your codependency, of your adoration and of your loyalty, yet he couldn’t deny you. The Ghostface, a serial killer created for simple thrill and vile greed, couldn’t tell you no. He, deep down, was a weak, weak man for things he liked; you, being the thing he valued the most.

“Fuck- doll, you’re-” he cursed, throwing his head back in a sobbing moan, holding you head down as he gave a few shallow pumps.

You choked a moan, eyes squinting the tears away from your sight at the sudden change of pace. Your throat contracting and closing around his length. You glared up at him, hands moving from their prior spot on his inner tight, thumb rubbing circles on his sensitive skin, to hold his hips, trying to stop him from canting his hips. Your noisy gag made him chuckle, his rapaciously deep sound sending a hungry chill down your spine.

“Oh, can’t take it, doll?” Danny drawled, masked face tilted down to gazed at your teary eyes. A cruel smirk danced across his lips, eyes glinting sinfully. “What’s wrong? Too much for you, pup? You were a slobbering mess a while ago, drooling for meat, hmm?”

Your piercing eyes met his, staring at him with heated eyes, a promise of devastation swimming in yours. He liked when you stared at him like that, it made his hair stand on end and blood pump adrenaline into his system.

“You don’t like that? Or is it being called pup?” He cackled, voice booming in the small cabin you were hiding out.

He cooed afterwards, rolling his hips with a crooning hum from his throat. You gaged once more, nose pushed into his neatly trimmed bush and chin glued to his heavy balls. His chest rumbled, seemingly pleased with your submission. Until a yelp left his lips, legs tensing and body spamming under you.

Your fingers clutched his sac, playing with the heaviness between your fingers. Kneading the soft, wrinkly skin while you tightened your throat around his girthy length, moaning and groaning. Every little sound you made sent vibration through him, teasing his engorged and angry head; and every contraction squeezed his cock made him tear up. He cried and shook, his sensitive cock throbbing inside of your warm and wet throat.

“F-fuck!”

He twitched, mewling loudly as he threw his head back. His fingers dug into your head, gripping onto your locks harshly as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, the fat of your tongue pressing against the vein running along the bottom, it was wide from the base and thinned out when it reached the mushroom-like head, spreading across his cock like rivers running their course.

He throbbed at your erratic pace, his balls tightening and fingers curling in your hair. You moaned, his rough actions and pleading cries making your cunt pulsing, drooling in anticipation for him after you’d served him. He came with an arched back, eyes rolled to the back in complete ecstasy. Heady, salty cum filled your mouth, the warm substance coating your tongue and rolled down your throat in big waves.

Danny’s voice sputtered, body spamming into his high, toes curling inside of his boots and cock spurting ropes and ropes of cum. He peered from the corners of his eyes as your cheeks bloated with him, your throat bobbing with every gulp. His shivered, pleasure rolling in his guts when you swallowed his cum, taking a part of him inside of you. It played into his need of ownership, marking you in ways others couldn’t.

“Christ, doll,” he panted, riding out the peek of arousal, running his fingers through your hair gently, lovingly caring. “Thank you. Let me help you, that little cunt of yours must be feeling neglected, no?”

#x reader #ghostface dead by daylight #dead by daylight ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface #slashers #ghostface x you #ghostface dbd #dbd ghostface x reader #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x reader smut #dead by daylight smut #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x you #dbd smut #dbd x reader #dbd fanfic #dbd x female reader #dbd x you #ghostface x female reader #female!reader #fem!reader #dbd ghostface

[clairdelunelove]

A Light in the Fog Pt.I

dwight x reader, jake x reader, ace x reader, leon x reader, dbd survivor x reader

genre: fluff/comfort, based on gameplay!

warnings: cursing, brief mentions of injury (what's expected in dbd)

synopsis: a collection of various dead by daylight men and sweet, heartwarming interactions you have with them during Trials!

a.n. this isn't the usual programming but I figured to share just in case I have fellow dbd simps out there! also pls lmk if you play!! I need more friends that play dbd 🥺

-

-

dwight fairfield

aka: nervous leader

there it is again

the materialization of your incessant, solid heartbeat that felt like your rib cage was going to crack open whenever the killer was close 

serving as an ominous warning for what was about to come next  

the generator blows up beneath your imprecise fingers and a curse tumbles out of your mouth before you can consider better of it

and the crude expletive startles dwight 

“sorry,” you hastily apologize before continuing to work alongside him, “just sounds like they’re close to us.” 

dwight, however, maintains his swiftness while tugging the colorful wires within the generator, “you don’t need to apologize. just try to keep repairing.” 

and although he desperately tries to steady his voice, you notice the nervous bounce of his knee because he’s aware that the killer is notified of your current location

honestly, he’s an enigma that you’re unable to solve 

dwight carries the characteristics of being a pronounced leader,, locating and increasing the efficiency of teammates whenever he was in Trials 

at times, however, his jumpy behavior or how you’ve caught him biting at the tips of his nails contradicts all previous logic 

but he’s always like this: incredibly polite yet remarkably strategic 

a reluctant brave leader 

in your peripheral vision, you observe the methodical way his fingers pull at the wires,, how his dark brows furrowed from atop his thick-rimmed glasses due to his unrivaled concentration 

and his efficiency bolsters a wave of confidence to wash over you 

“good,” dwight hums in encouragement when the two of you work in flawless tandem, “that’s more like it.” 

soon, the shared generator is more than halfway progressed,, the increase of repair speed having a huge impact 

but the dire presence of the killer is forewarned in a vicious screech 

you both need to make a run for it 

dwight’s eyes hurriedly dart to yours before he tactfully orders, “get going, I’ll finish this!” 

it’s an executive decision,, one that forces him to contemplate so thoroughly that the edge of his hand comes up to push at his glasses 

“what? no,” you shake your head while desperately yanking at the wires in hopes of repairing the generator quicker, “we’re almost done with this and I can’t just leave you here.” 

and the second half of your sweet comment has his expression softening because, of course, he knows you’re worried about his well-being 

a corner of his lips lifted at the sentiment and it’s such a rare occurrence that you’re left stunned while he reassures you, “you’re always looking out for everyone but listen to me: let me watch over you.” 

and sure, dwight’s voice cracks during his confession (which stiffly tumbles out of his mouth) but your cheeks heat up regardless while his next words send you sprinting away with a stronger mentality 

“now,” he pauses to send you a single, assured nod, “show me what you can do!” 

-

-

jake park

aka: solitary survivalist

typically known as a solo survivalist,, not the type to become sidetracked during Trials 

prides himself in his ability to adapt in any circumstance 

an excellent teammate to have, especially in the Realms that are centered around the woods 

yet, he’ll struggle with building connections outside of Trials and is often found replenishing his toolbox alone while the others are gathered around the campfire

not the best at socializing due to his rebellious nature and tendency to flee when pressure grows, he’s uncertain on how to interact with the other survivors 

dark eyes scanning the group, he’d be vigilant yet silent in group settings like this 

everyone’s conversing,, attempting to take the edge off of the uncertainty of when the Entity would beckon them into another Trial  

light chuckles could be heard but the rare noise doesn’t sway his attention 

his fingers work methodically to clean off varying vice grips before laying them carefully in a metal toolbox resting by his feet 

and it isn’t until you sidle in the space beside him does he glance up 

“jake?” 

his name on your lips sounds soft, friendly, and it immediately snatches his attention, “(y/n).” 

it’s silent for a couple seconds,, but from the corner of his dark eyes he notes the skittish smile you offer him at the casual mention of your name 

you’re fumbling with something 

“made this for you to use in the next Trial,” you beckon for him to take the item from your hands, “I figured it might be helpful.” 

his gloved hands brush against makeshift cutting wire made from jagged metal wire and two wooden handles 

it’s an attempt,, that much is certain by the irregular and ragged notches in the design 

but the sentiment is unbelievably sweet 

“for me?” 

the question sounds foolish coming from him but his awkwardness is overlooked by you when you eagerly nod in response 

“you sure?”

just from the shape of it he’s aware that the cutting tool could be used to sabotage hooks (an action he’s never rationalized to commit during a Trial,, yet, it’s a consensus that he’s one of the most agile survivors that could pull off such a feat) 

but your blind, compassionate trust in him is the most relevant factor that he’s dazed from 

a bright grin tugs upon your lips at his realization, “of course. only you can pull it off, jake.” 

and it’s this initial encounter that sparks the habit of jake risking his life to sabotage any hooks whenever you’re being carried by the killer 

it’s a strange deed,, how the solo survivalist abandoned his previous ways if you were even in an ounce of danger 

because he’s sprinting to your rescue 

the time nor place never dwindles his ability to locate the closest hook, slide beside it, and grant you the chance to wiggle out of the killer’s grasp– all while clutching onto the cutting wire you gifted him 

-

-

ace visconti

aka: lucky gambler

“ace, you can’t just keep giving me items during the Trial.” 

your exasperation is lost on the male, however, because he’s already tipping the edge of his cobalt-colored hat towards you 

he’s a gambler 

a lucky one at that 

will continually push his odds of being caught in the basement while looting the permanent chest that’s tucked away in one of the dingy corners 

“just for you, sweetheart,” he casually mentions while bestowing the offering to you 

his breathing is absurdly stable,, considering that he trekked across the entire Realm just to personally hand you the gift 

pressing your lips in a firm line, you halfheartedly scold, “time is wasted if you keep this up, ya know.” 

and, naturally, he shrugs his shoulders in feigned apology while shooting you a charming grin

despite your reprimand you’re still curious on what he gifted you this time 

fingers digging through the contents, a noise of complete awe leaves your lips, “oh, ace.” 

because nestled in the middle of the medkit is a plastic bottle of styptic agent,, used to stop wounds from hemorrhaging 

highly beneficial to use while healing yourself or another teammate and the rarity of the item equates to it being incredibly valuable 

“it’s great but I can’t take this from you,” you pause to close the medkit, “you should have it.” 

his bright eyes peer down at you from behind his shades,, noticing the hesitant sweep of your gaze upon inspecting the item in your hands 

but ace has different plans 

shaking his head, he proceeds to place a gentle hand on your shoulder, “keep it. it should come in handy.” 

and of course it’ll be useful because you realize there’s even added gauze within the medkit to heal a couple more injuries 

it’ll give the team an advantage 

“it’s just a lot,” you fiddle with the box’s metal handle, “this is really good loot.” 

his brows shoot up at this but coolly responds, “what can I say? I’m just a lucky guy.”

he’s bargaining with you, you know that– except he isn’t expecting anything in return 

ace’s charismatic grin is contagious and soon a bashful smile dances on your lips 

and you’re not sure if it’s the warmth of his touch or the persuasive drawl of his voice,, but you cling onto the medkit with earnest

-

-

leon s. kennedy

aka: rookie police officer

“leon!” 

the holler of his name causes his wide eyes to land on your crouched figure 

naturally, you’re leaning into the side of the generator to pull at a bundle of wires and increase the probability of powering the exit gate  

he treads forward before dropping to his knees to assist you in repairing the generator, “fancy seeing you here.” 

and his voice is warm, welcoming, and everything that you adore about leon 

his uniform is slightly covered with remnants of blood and dirt but otherwise he seems safe  

“you scared me,” you sheepishly explained and gestured to the locker he just emerged from, “you need to tell us before you do that!” 

your chiding is only for show, however, because the mutual infatuation you both share for each other is blatantly obvious 

from lingering stares and giddy smiles, your fellow teammates are well informed of the potential relationship 

which is why the third person that was helping you complete the generator stands up to leave 

but not before giving you a discreet wink 

and needless to say, the rookie cop comments about the strange behavior, “I– what was that about?” 

he raises a brow but is immersed with guiding your fingers to the correct cluster of wires 

responding with a quick shake of your head, you wager a glimpse at him when he abruptly digs in his belt pouch 

“oh, before I forget,” leon opens his gloved hand to reveal a flashbang, “I got something for you.” 

before you can sincerely thank him, he drags his hand up to scratch the back of his neck and murmurs, “in case you need it.”   

and the sun’s sweltering rays only emphasize the tips of his reddened ears 

“is this what you were crafting in the locker?” 

you attempt– really, you do– to steady your voice but the gesture is just so overwhelmingly wholesome that your tone wavers 

and your hands instinctively raise to cover your face before you add in muffles, “I’ll keep it then.” 

he perks up at your declaration,, light-hued eyes glistening at the knowledge that you’ll hold onto his flash grenade 

a soft grin dances on his lips, “okay.”  

and there’s a comfortable silence that settles amongst you both 

that is, until leon piques up, “you know, you’re kinda cute when you’re embarrassed. gimme your number when we make it out of the Trial?”

#dead by daylight #dbd #dwight fairfield #dead by daylight x reader #jake park #dbd survivor #dbd x reader #resident evil leon #leon kennedy #ace visconti #dead by daylight dwight #dead by daylight x you

[kyloherrera]

—DBD MORIS BUT HOTTER

ft. michael myers, the legion, deathslinger, ghostface

tw. non-con, stabbing, knife play. blood play.

an. I wrote this a while ago so I hope it’s good, and this is for you monster fuckers!

wc. 262

#MICHAEL MYERS!

~He lifts you up while he chokes you and corners you against the wall, then adjusts his grip on your neck more, and turns you around so that your face is against the wall, and then begins with a slow but deep rhythm, and at the same time he accelerates . his rhythm the grip on your neck becomes tighter until you pass out and now he is on top of you, wrapping his hands around your neck, last thing you se is as he looks at you with a cold gaze through his mask and watches your pained expression.

#THE LEGION!

~He pushes you hard against a wall, making your face look at it, and then throws you to the ground, making you fall to your knees in a pose similar to that of the puppy, and then he grabs your hair tightly and makes you turn your head back observing his mask. To then wrap his hands around your neck

#GHOSTFACE!

~very similar to Frank throwing you to the floor, making you fall face down with him, and then climbing on top of you, and then starting to penetrate you, and pulling your hair strongly, making you throw your head back and recording every action and movement. While The cold blade rubs against your skin.

#DEATHSLINGER!

~He throws you to the ground, making you fall to your knees and then inserting his toothed member into your oral cavities in a quick and deep movement, making you suffocate. After a strong kick, he throws you to the ground again, then stands up and holds your arms tightly, putting them behind your back while he penetrates you as if there were no tomorrow.

taglist:

#dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd x reader smut #frank morrison #frank morison x reader #ghost fandom #ghostface x reader #ghostface x reader smut #ghostface x you #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #the deathslinger #deathslinger x reader

[p3achysuki]

ahem maybe a wesker nsfw headcanon? 👀it can be anything.

a/n: it’ll just be a short story I came up with, there’s no plot besides smut and being a wesker simp. Also this sucks because it’s 2AM here and I have work:,)

Warning: NSFW, mentions of choking, Wesker humiliating the reader a lil bit. Power kink? Lil dub/noncon

You felt drool slide down your chin, how did it come to this? You let out a shaky sigh as you felt gloved fingers rub over your clit, you managed to glance up only to be met with red eyes staring back down at you. You quickly close your eyes again as you felt him continue his assault on your body, without granting you any breaks.

A few survivors had told you about the new killer, mainly Chris told everyone about him. Wesker is what Chris called him, telling everyone that he knew him before he was taken by the entity. To be wary of him and not let their guard down, but maybe that’s the mistake you made.

You always assumed killers would go straight for the person they’ve known before coming here, oh how you were wrong.

Maybe it was because Wesker could feel the little sighs you would make whenever he used his mori on you and his hand would wrap around your throat, or maybe when he would slam you against an object when he used his power and would see your back arch slightly.

Almost as if…

You squirmed, you didn’t want to feel like a traitor and let survivors know that you were enjoying every moment with him and the pain he brought you.

You felt ashamed that you were even getting wet from him, Wesker even knew it. At times you could almost see that teasing look in his eyes, prompting you to look away ashamed and embarrassed.

That’s when you felt one of his gloved hand wrap around your neck making your eyes fly back open, before grabbing onto his wrist. He let out a quiet sigh as he felt your cunt pulse around his cock, “I felt you squeeze around my cock, you liked that didn’t you?”

You shook your head, desperately trying to renounce his claim.

He gave your neck a small squeeze before leaning closer to your ear, “it’s better not to lie to me, especially with our trails together. I’ve noticed how you become around me, but I don’t think you want the others to know right?”

You hesitated before nodding, you didn’t want Chris or Jill to know about this. You didn’t want to see the look of betrayal on their face if they found out about this, especially knowing you didn’t put up a fight against him.

“Then relax.” He says before he starts thrusting his cock into your cunt again at a much faster pace, moans and whimpers spilled out of you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Pulling him closer to you and holding onto his back, he didn’t seemed bothered by this and continued.

You felt that small heat pooling in your stomach, you wanted cum already and Wesker could tell too. By the way your breathing and pants were more frequent, his hips started thrusting more slowly this time.

Making you whine and arch your hips almost like if you were trying to encourage him to keep going, he wanted to see how desperate you were to get your release.

He wanted you to break and maybe to get a reaction out of Chris and Jill, knowing they couldn’t protect one survivor.

“please..” he heard that small plea from you, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel like that he was in power here in the entity, “I couldn’t quite catch that my dear, speak up properly.” He said tilting your chin up.

“Please! I want to cum already!” You pleaded much louder, satisfying him he started thrusting his hips again.

You could feel his cock brush against your g-spot every time he would drag his cock slightly out before back in again, you felt mind go blank as you finally orgasmed letting out cries of his name.

Hot tears slid down your face as you finally felt your orgasm subside, Wesker gently wipes away one of your tears. “I’ll keep this dirty little secret of ours, until of course I decide to tell everyone the truth.”

#tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: manipulation #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd fanfic #dbd wesker x reader #dbd wesker x you #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #dbd wesker #tw: choking

[burnedwriter]

"Valentine"

warnings:none,the reader is gender neutral

A/n:this is my first time writing sth about wesker and if it goes well im thinking of writing for more re character in the future.hope you enjoy!

it has been months since the one and only has ''recruted'' you to work for him on his project,not that you had a choice to resist anyways.....with your intellengence you made to the role to become a lead scientist,earning wesker's trust as you were assign to make sure everything went as planned and also reporting any obsticles that might occure,getting some subtle compliments from him from time to time but you didnt get too cocky because in his eyes everyone is disposable even you or so it seemed.

These couple of weeks have been a little different from the rest,your boss has been acting very strange,calling you to his office atleast 5 times or even more,finding poor excuses to call you in.The other weird thing that has been happening is him coming to check on you while you were working,it was him basicly sitting in a chair at the corner of the room while he observed your actions carefully,and him opening a conversation to make the silence less akward between you,at the start asking you about hows the project is going even though you had already told him before hand,and then he progressivly started to ask you about your private life,if you were single or had a family which you quickly replied that you were single,earning an approving ''hm'' from him and making your heart skip a beat.

Today was one of those days,upon entering his dark lit office,he looked really sceptical?you couldnt quite put your finger on it,it was hard to read his expressions as he always had a strong pocker face and constantly wore sunglasses even in indoors.maybe all this pressure he put on himself finally caught up to him,hes not getting any younger afterall.

''Mr.wesker are you feeling ok?because it doesnt seem that way''you said with a concerned look on your face.

clearing his throat before he spoke,''thanks for your concern doctor,i am fine''he said with his usual arrogant tone but this time laying back at his chair and swiftly moving his gaze elsewhere.It was really out of character for him,he would always look at you,sometimes you even felt his piercing gaze behind those glasses.

''now tell me doctor,how is the plan going''leaning forward,placing his elbows on the desk while the tips of his fingers touched together creating a sophisticating pose as he listened to you carefully reporting like normal.

finishing your last sentence with''this is all we have done so far for today''waiting for wesker's feedback.

''You are dissmissed doctor,you can now leave and continue your work''he waved his hand for you to leave his office.

Getting up your back now facing wesker,your hand on the doorknob ready to open the door for you to leave,when all a sudden you were stopped dead on your tracks by his voice.

''one last thing i forgot to ask you doctor...''his voice soundig kinda hesitant almost like he regreted speaking up,you turned looking at the direction of the sound.

''....would you like to go on date with me''he said with a small smug expression on his face,making you form a little blush at his words as you quickly left his office,filling your mind with more questions about his feelings towards you,was that his plan from the start?did he thought of you as an equal to him?for now only time will tell those answers.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight wesker #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #dead by daylight x you #wesker x you #wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #dead by daylight #resident evil fluff

[ghqstfqce]

¡Hola!, Es la primera vez que hago un pedido, así que perdón si la cago en algo 😩 Me gustarían unos headcanons de Dwight, Joey, Thomas y/o RZ!Michael (si no quieres/puedes hacer todos, Joey o Michael serían más que suficiente para mí<3)con un s/o albino, sinceramente no se me ocurre nada TT. Pronombres neutros o femeninos, cualquiera me viene bien (puedes añadir headcanons NFSWs si te apetece)(⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠).⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Pairing | RZ ! Michael Myers x GN ! Reader — Thomas Hewitt x GN ! Reader — Joey | The Legion x GN ! Reader — Dwight Fairfield x GN ! Reader [Pronombres: Ellx/They]

TW | Hay obscenidad/NSFW en este, ups. Es algo rudo u oscuro en el de Michael, pero nada gráfico o demasiado fuerte, solo Michael siendo Michael. Me emocione y no sé si he sido educadx, así que si he escrito algo irrespetuoso, no dudes en patearme el culo en comentarios.

WA | No idea, pero son solo 5 headcanons por personaje.

AN | ¡Bienvenidx a este cambiante blog! Y no te preocupes por como solicites, mientras cumplas con las reglas realmente puedes solicitar como sea y lo que sea. Espero esto sea de tu agrado<3 y no dudes en comentar si deseas cambiar algo:).

RZ ! Michael Myers

• Quieres verte sangrar, ver la "pulcritud" de tu piel y tu apariencia hace que quiera verte sangrar o por lo menos verte ensuciadx en sangre.

• Te ama, claro que lo hace y aun tiene algo de prudencia en que le dice que no debe ponerte en medio del caos solo por su curiosidad retorcida, pero hay algo bajo sus dedos que pica por verte "sucix".

• Le gusta observarte demasiado, podrías ser unx rudx total en secreto, pero nuevamente esta siendo prejuicio y tu apariencia le hace sentir que eres débil, así que siempre un ojo sobre ti, pareces fácil de romper y solo él tiene permitido romperse.

• No es de extrañar que durante sus momentos íntimos sea algo rudo, quizás no pueda verte bañadx en sangre, pero te dejara moretones y chupetones inofensivos cada que tengan sexo.

• Con una de sus manos rodeara tu cuello con fuerza y no solo por aumentar la velocidad y bestialidad de sus embestidas, no, desea ver las marcas de sus manos en un lugar que podría significar tu fin o si es uno de esos raros momentos en que se quita la mascara, morderá tu cuello y tu hombro. Es casi un viaje de poder.

Thomas Hewitt

• Un poco más dulce que Michael, te ve como su dulce y lindx muñecx. No dudara en coser ropa que convine con esta idea que tiene sobre ti por tu apariencia. No es que te quejes, es lindo ser mimadx por tu gran hombre.

• Al igual que Michael siente que eres delicadx y siempre mantendrá un ojo vigilante sobre ti y más si hay víctimas en casa. Te hará subir a su habitación compartida o te mandara a vagar por la ciudad abandonada.

• Prohibido salir al sol sin un paraguas o mucha ropa cubriendote, no tendrán siempre acceso al bloqueador, pero no permitirá que tu culo albino sufra daño por una exposición al sol de Texas. Si no encontró algún paraguas, bueno ten por seguro que encontrará una forma de hacerte uno.

• Antes de su relación, tu apariencia es lo que te salvo. Es un pueblo en Texas y alejado de la mano de Dios, nunca conoció a alguien parecidx a ti, así que quería mantenerte un poco más. Al principio quería tu rostro, pero es un blando total y cayo enamorado de ti.

• Es tan cuidadoso al momento de tener sexo contigo. Tú siempre estarás arriba y comandando que tan rápido y fuerte tienen que ir, tendrás que rogar si quieres que este hombre sea duro contigo. Pero no te negaras a esa mirada llena de amor que te lanza al verte montadolo como si te pagarán por ello, es un desastre de gemidos y placer bajo de ti.

Joey | The Legion

• Joey, el dulce Joey. No había conocido a nadie como tú antes de la Entidad, aun así no actúa de forma extraña contigo. Sabía que existían las personas albinas y para él eres solo tú.

• Claro, hay bromas a tu expensa, pero son bromas dulces e inofensivas. Te dirá que no vayas a perderte entre la nieve o si eres capaz de ser invisible. Son bromas tontas, aunque nunca mueren y solo las toleras por la sonrisa infantil en su rostro cada que las dice.

• Aun así es una perra protectora, si alguno de los supervivientes te esta haciendo pasar mal rato por ser albino y lo escucha, bueno, él no sabe porque han vuelto tan asustados de ti después de un juicio con él.

• Otro que le encanta ver tu piel enrojecer por la fuerza ejercida sobre ella. Ya sea durante la intimidad o juegos previos, se siente fascinado por como resaltar el enrojecimiento sobre tu piel y no dudará en sujetarte un poco más fuerte o dejar chupetones sobre ti.

• Le gusta sujetar tus caderas con sus dos manos y más si esta por llegar al clímax, escucharte gemir y ver la evidencia de que él es quien te toca puede llevarlo fácilmente al límite, no te soltara aun después del orgasmo y tendrás que atraerlo con dulces palabras para poder acurrucarse.

Dwight Fairfield

• Es algo curioso al principio, pero tratando de ser respetuoso no permite que llegue a lo raro y aunque había escuchado sobre el albinismo, no dudará en preguntarte una que otra cosa y ya. Eso queda de lado al ver tu personalidad agradable y resplandeciente, esta enamorado de ti con fuerza y más al ser quien mantiene su animo en lo alto.

• Podrá verte un millón de veces hacerle frente a sujetos como Pyramid Head o Michael Myers, siempre perdera su mierda y más porque siente la curiosidad por tu albinismo de este último, vas a causarle un infarto al pobre hombre.

• Odia verte sucix, sabe que es inevitable y más con lo fácil que resalta sobre tu piel y cabello, pero aún así le molesta ver a su dulce pareja con la evidencia de lo que este mundo les hace. Se preocupa por todos sus compañeros, pero tú tienes un lugar especial, no sabría que haría sin ti.

• Negara que cuando la Entidad se siente caritativa, pide cosas para poder ayudarte a limpiarte. El hombre vive para adorarte así que no es una sorpresa si un día te recibe con toallitas húmedas o un lugar para ducharse. Es su momento íntimo y de adoración, algo tímido pero no dudará en pedir ducharte.

• Claramente es suave al momento de tener sexo, nunca se ha caracterizado por ser el más kink y más allá de la típica charla sucia, el sexo con él es la suavidad que les hace falta en este lugar y si, comúnmente viene después del aseo. Ver que él es quien te ha ayudado lo pone en marcha y tú estas abordó al ver la adoración en su rostro.

#dead by daylight x reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x gn reader #rz michael myers x reader #rz michael myers x gn reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers x gn reader #joey the legion x reader #joey the legion x gn reader #dbd joey x reader #joey dbd x reader #dwight fairfield x reader #Dwight Fairfield x gn reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #dead by daylight x y/n #dead by daylight x you

[clarks-letterman]

angelift | goalie!renato lyra x reader

a/n — inspired by the deadly games collection! soccer!au where the survivors all play soccer in their own teams

summary — I'd write one but nothing can top those stellar item descriptions in DBD... right? Anyways, goalie rivals settle their feuds in the locker room.

warnings — horribly translated Brazilian Portuguese, face fucking, mischaracterizing a character who doesn't speak/has no personality besides the fact that his whimpering sounds nice <3, white woman jumpscare (meg)

words — 3.4k

~~~

“How does he do it?”

Your eyes scour across the large field to the Brazilian swinging his arms over his chest, raising the other arm in a perpendicular fashion and pressing it to the elbow of his polar arm while keeping it stiff. It’s a specific motion that he does as he sauntered to his other teammates. 

Meg turned to look at you as you stretched, taking the same stance as him. Warm-ups, a much-needed thing when exposed to the brisk air.

“Do what?” She asked.

“Look so… confident. You know, they barely qualified to go against us.” What you said may have been a lie, but you wished for it to be true. Knowing their team was statistically worse than yours would have made their popularity around the world feel less intimidating. 

Her brows furrowed like they were trying to dive into the turf she stood on. “You made that up. That’s something everyone knows.”

“It’s easy to see it.” You told her. “The team is more focused on their image rather than their skill. My money’s on the fact that most of them are here for the fame.”

Renato had to be showing off since you got to the stadium, whether it was to you or the eager fans arriving early, you couldn’t tell. Not every position was beneficial for stretching out his best assets, but maybe he cared too much about looking his best in the game.

While the other team likely talked shit about your worst mistakes behind your back, you found comfort in talking about their motivations. They could relish in every slip-up, fumble, and game-costing play that you made, but it made all of that sting a little less when you imagined them as not taking the game seriously. Hell, Renato made that pretty easy with his presence in the marketing world. He wasn’t just some player, he was a brand to sell stadium seats.

The countless interviews online were all about him. Renato, the “fire keeper” as everyone called him. It was only after one of his gloves caught a ball that had some sort of tactile material that, when gliding across the material of his glove at a rapid speed, could cause smoke and burn marks. By the end of that match, it looked like he had held fire in his hand and walked away from the game with a reputation. 

Then you saw his stupid face in a commercial for a cream that he used to help with muscle pain in his thighs, now being endorsed by the company that made it. Damn you, Deep Heat. Though, the one shot of his thigh that they used for demonstration stuck out in your head—it was practically burned into your TV screen! Crisp, white illuminated his toned leg as he propped it up on a futuristic cube that was equally as shining as the backdrop. All of the lathering, his hands slowly gliding over his thigh to show how fast the cream disappeared and worked to alleviate pain. Closing in on such an intimate part of himself—one that was usually hidden by his shorts, a cross between blue and purple over his tanned legs—was for all of the public to see.

Being a goalie yourself, the algorithm online had basically fed you every iteration of that advert to the point that you could recite them by heart in the same, stupid voice he used. His face was on all the boxes, and you had to reluctantly buy some after getting a cramp after a match. Your team had a manager, and one overheard conversation sent your dislike of the player across the arena into a full-out feeling of disdain. Supposedly, you would have gotten that endorsement if it weren’t for one game where you failed to catch one too many balls, and they went to Renato shortly after. 

…And, damn it, he had already won the rivalry. You were at a loss for anything else to say about him.

You would have never called him your “rival,” because that would imply that Renato possessed a skill set high enough to match yours, and the feeling that he could outplay you today was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. That was the internet’s idea. On some screen far, far away, someone had noticed the small glare you gave him a while back at a fundraiser for charity. This one glance let thousands of people on the internet concoct this fantasy of, at the least, being friends, and at its worst, being lovers. Every detail of your social presence—from an intentionally “equivocating” Instagram caption to the outright mention of his name—was enough for fans of both teams to come together in a new type of supporter.

Maybe what they did, and what he did, worked to some extent. Just the sight of him warming up for this match brought on a spur of emotion that could only be described as a resonating bridle. Something that pushed the edge of an immovable barrier. Where the wall began as the public eye and ended in insecurity didn’t seem discernible. Sometimes, you fantasized about meeting Renato while taking a tour of Brazil. Someplace quiet in the moors, where he’s all alone, kicking a ball around, waiting for anyone else to join him. The dream of which sat on his shoulders as he fed fuel to the fire, he had to be the one making any accusation about the two of you being any sort of ‘thing.’

But all he managed to do was run laps around your mind. In front of you, he was doing the complete opposite. His weight pressed down on the faux grass. But he was not facing you, no. He isn’t looking in your direction with a smirk as he reaches the tips of his digits to the toe of his cleat. He’s facing away, a sign of weakness. He’s leaning forward, stretching his back and, from what you can make out from your shared distance, running his hands over his legs until he reaches his ankles. The elastic band of his shorts dipped as they could only cover so much, and the purple ends of his jersey rode up. Too far away to see the details, you turned away and expected it to be that way for the rest of the night.

That was, until, the final handshake. The game came to a close at fourteen to twelve. Scattered players blocked your view of him as you paced back and forth in your little salt circle—or a sharply shaped rectangle with repelling edges—on the field for the entire match. There was a slow building of dread as you shook hand after hand, being on the very end of the lineup as your team shuffled to the left and the other team did the same, but in the opposite direction. Renato was the last as well, meaning that you two ended the ritualistic commemoration. A way to celebrate your loss, and a way for Brazil to continue to be home to another asshole in the world.

Each bare hand meeting your own built-up friction, but it elicits nothing as a base is needed to react with other bases. You had your reasons for disliking Renato, but there was never a specific moment where you could say it to him. There was no ignition beyond your want to do it. But, as you looked into his eyes once he stepped into view, the choice to do it grew stronger. You slotted your hand into his without looking, grasping it firmly. The sudden realization that he still had his gloves on and you were shaking the hand with the yellow dorsal side of his glove. The white part enveloped your hand and he shook it with a smirk on his face.

“Good job out there. Anyone can miss two catches.”

“Not you, though, right?” Being the last in line meant that there was no rush to break away from the man touching your hand. The only thing running through your mind was the Deep Heat on it, numbing his hand and yours.

“Not at all,” he said. 

“I guess you’d know how to catch balls, though.” Thanks, internet.

He pulled you closer, “You know, a rumor might arise tonight about how you’re missing two balls.”

The teams were dismissed before you could reply. Just a second longer and this would’ve been more flammable evidence to turn to ashes in the dirt. But Renato pulled his hand away and strode across the field. You did the same since the seats encircling the stadium were still full of people slowly finding their way out. 

In an attempt to find a resolution to your conflict, you circled the stadium and to the opposing team’s locker room. Inside, the walls were lined with green lockers and sea-blue tiles mixed with the occasional white accents. The showers and bathroom stalls were colored in the same way. Because they were the ‘away’ team, they got the color scheme opposite to your team’s pink jerseys.

His earthy tones of brown hair and tanned upper chest stuck out like a sore thumb as you searched for him in each locker dwelling. They were all squarely U-shaped and very much empty, except for one. Renato was facing away from you, digging around in the locker where he temporarily stored all of his little things. As he shifted around in the same spot, your eyes wandered down to the bench. Neatly folded clothes rested on the polished plank of wood. A possibly lucky, beaded necklace dangled from his balled fist as he shoved it into his duffle bag. When he bent over to stuff it in, you noticed that he was only in his underwear, not just shirtless.

“Hey, listen.” He was still turned away, “You weren’t the one starting all those rumors, right? Of us?”

He turned around, shutting the locker. His hands clasped the clothes and he stood erect while facing you head-on. “I have to hit the showers, care to join?”

The perfect thing to clear the air was to steam it up. With grace and without the slightest falter, his thumbs hooked into his underwear and he pushed them down over his cheeks, then they shifted to the front and he did the same. It was done all in one swift motion, lifting a leg from each cuff and stepping out of his underwear without breaking his pace toward the box-room showers. He stayed in front of you, keeping silent. The only sound he made was the soft puttering of his footsteps against the ceramic tile, a reminder of how he could do something so effortlessly and unintentionally human. Your eyes had their instinct to wander to places they had never seen and glance over his ass and thick thighs while they weren’t wrapped in colorful polyester. They were almost so thick, it made seeing his swinging dick impossible to see as if you were peering through the slit of a doorframe where light shone through. You can tell there’s something there, but it’s indiscernible without being on the other side.

His hips sway like it’s an intentional beckoning. It’s one that you’re already wordlessly following, but he reinstates it every time his legs strut. Still uncontrollable, still real. Still a dick.

He stopped and turned before passing through the hole in the wall carved out to enter the showers. You saw his thighs halt and twirl, and you stopped just short of bumping into him, “Are you coming in? You should, you look like a muddied dog in an all-white house.”

“What?”

“You reek of losing.” He tried to sound clearer, unsure if he had accidentally used a mix of his native language and English in his invitation.

You looked down, everything down to your cleats were still on and clinging to you from working up a sweat. Footprints of your odd pathing, of following Renato around like a puppy dog, were tracked around on the tile. “Oh, yeah.”

Stripped of your outward identity, your team, and the morals associated with it, you joined him right as the water had gotten nice and warm. Renato’s skin was bolstered by sweat along his neck and face, since he was careful—and inane in reiteration—to keep his hair dry, but glistened all the same when his chest was under the shower head’s stream. The water trickled down his body, over every curve and ridge. It was a regular sight for his teammates, who were used to the full sight of a meal with steaming freshness, but this made you crave him and his taste. You joined him under his shower head, not even bothering to start up a second one.

Some of it flowed down his abs like a stream with rocks breaking the current and only then did it fall toward the drain once they ventured down his long peninsula. He molded the earth in his hands, the precipitating water, the salt of the sweat, and the warmth of his core. All of it, all under his control, while you could barely keep him out of your thoughts and a hand out of your pants for him.

He seemed to know everything—have everything. “I think you play the wrong sport. You’d be better at pitching over anything else.”

“Yeah? How are you so good at everything you do?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘good.’ And not at everything.”

“And what would you call it?”

“I don’t know, but… I want to know,” he paused. “What word makes you bark… without biting?”

“Are you asking me to shut up?”

He took a step closer, cocking his head. The curls in his hair moved with him, slightly falling in his face. “Do I need to tell you?”

“No,” you gave in to him almost immediately.

His eyes flicked down to the wet tile then back up to you. You tried to read his expression, study his perfect face and all the things he refrained from saying. But there was nothing, it was no use. He still looked stunning under the flow of steaming water and all of your jealousy surfaced from the clear pores he had. Renato’s perfect skin wasn’t secluded to his face, it spanned his whole body. You got to see it up close when you did as his eyes directed, kneeling before him and feeling the water fall off his body and hit you, none of it coming directly from the head of the shower. He controlled the flow.

All he had to do was mutter the words, ‘Help me unwind,’ and you were—he was—letting your hands scale his upper thighs like it was the climb up a peaking mountain. Near the peak, the air was thinning. The only thing filling each breath was steam and him.

His cock dangled down, falling somewhere between the middle of his thighs and his knees. It moved when your fingers encircled the base and that’s when you knew that even his big size could get much bigger. How did you never see this thing packed away in his shorts? The better question was: how did he jump to catch balls in the air with all of this extra weight?

There was a small moment where you cupped all of him in your hands, enjoying it as what it was and not what it needed to be. Still, he managed to fair better to the touch than you ever could. Receptive and cool to the touch in a room full of steam he remains. He was at his hardest, but not at his neediest.

But your mouth felt empty at the sight of this, knowing that it could stretch and fill you any way it’s taken. You let one hand drop and the other wrap around his shaft to point his cock at you directly. Inching closer to it, his bare palm lightly smacked the side of your face, shunning you away. He chides with it, “Ah-ah.”

It’s wordless, but his actions suggest that he wants his goods handled carefully. Not by some second-place goalie who can’t catch a big soccer ball, let alone handle him. 

"Você não tem que me chupar, eu tenho que comer sua linda boquinha,” he explained, but you struggled to understand a lick of it. Good thing your tongue wouldn’t be used much to speak. “You look stupid, pretty boy. I’ll show you, ninfeta.”

A hand of his runs through your soaking hair and the other held onto his cock. Quickly, and without warning, he jabbed it against your lips. The soft head speared its way in for entrance. His hips rocked back and forth until you got the obvious sign to let him through and into his own pocket of pleasure. 

With his feet firmly planted on the tiled floor, he loomed with stability. He was able to bring you off your knees and down to the base of his cock in one slow pull. He reeled you off of him smoothly only to ram it all back in with the force of his weight. His core flexed and tightened, thighs stuttering from the soreness of the match and the fact that he was on his feet at the moment.

The feeling of your tongue on the underside of his sensitive cock and how your throat fought his presence with each deep thrust into you, the hand in your hair tightening each time, sent his eyes rolling back. So far so, he could have rolled back and slipped on the feeling of euphoria. 

You were sure your nose was red from how many times his pubic bone and clean-shaven pubes brushed against it, lightly scratching it every time he smushed the two together. The two collisions—your nose to his pubes and his dick stretching your throat—felt like he was trying to fit a square block in a circular hole. One would be made to fit, and he had already shown which.

Carnally, he thrust with the force of an animal getting its fix. His legs grew less tense by the minute, all moving to the pit of his stomach. Water ran over his dick, spilling into your mouth as his thumbs curled into your lips to stretch them wide. Plap, plap, plap… the noises echoed off the wall. A mix of water and spit spilled over your chin, the amount of it being saliva was unknown to you, but it was obviously a lot since you could feel him pulling more out each time he backed himself up only to slam it all back in.

“Puta vadia,” he whined, leaning his head back, and in short, jagged swings of his hips, he stutters you along his cock. Quickly, glug, glug, glugs flew out.

You hardly even noticed that he had come in those final thrusts until he slowed and stopped. His thumbs unhooked themselves, but as your lips formed a ring around him again, you could feel him twitching and pulsing over your tongue. The water going into your mouth slowed and was back to flowing over your face and body, but his release still dribbled out. It felt like a spoonful of honey pouring down the back of your throat, slowly.

After a moment of heavy breathing and recuperating himself, Renato found himself placing his hands in your hair again, reeling you back until your mouth was empty. He let go of his hold and offered out the same hand to you, “You… make me bad at controlling myself, gostoso.”

You took it and stood up, rebalancing yourself on the wet tile with the help of his shoulders. Once you were steady, you didn’t bother to move them, keeping them slung over him. You wanted to ask him a question, debating whether or not to use your abused throat. “Does that Deep Heat stuff work on your jaw?”

#renato lyra #renato lyra x reader #renato lyra x male reader #fanfic #x male reader #x reader #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd x małe reader #dead by daylight au #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x male reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #game x reader #renato lyra x you #x y/n #x you