#the other side of ormond

[diejager]

Tied down

Cw: BDSM, smut, NSFW, rough sex, public sex? It's technically outside with screaming ppl, teasing, pet name (bunny, bun), unsafe sex, creampie.

Wc: 1.2k

Collection masterlist

You thought the ribbons that flowed behind him were simply esthetic, something that added to his character, dark and ghost-like with the constant flow even when there wasn't any wind to pick them up. His whole attire was uncanny, something about how clean he always was before and after his kills, neat and relaxed he came back, shoulders low and singing a tune under his mask. The ribbons, however, always stayed bloodied, caked with brown and black stains, ripped from getting stuck to branches and bark. Although dirtied, it added to his phantom, a dark being that stalked and blinded his time until it was the right moment.

It made you jump at the sight of him, even the small glimpses of his mask or the ribbons tied tightly to him. He was patient, always was since you first saw him through the walls of the Ormond house, and he knew what he was doing, adept and nimble; knowledgable and cunning; silent and skillful.

Yet, somehow, the thought of him using the ribbons never crossed your mind, flowing behind him on windless nights, stalking towards his prey. You were his last one, having downed Mikaela, Dwight, and Bill, all hooked and groaning in agony until their time ended. He caught you by the arm, a tight grip promising bruises the next day, and dragged you to the secluded side of the map. He pushed and kept you against the stone, stomach flushed against the rough surface with your ass grinding against his hip.

You stayed still, listening to the ruffles of clothing and a hiss-like sound from leather rubbing leather. He was taking something off from what you could hear, leisurely taking off his attire. After a few seconds, hands - his gloves were off, he threw them on the floor - ripped your arms from the stone and forcibly bending them back uncomfortably.

You groaned out his name, squirming under his unyielding grasp, shoulders pushing back to lessen the strain on your arms. With one arm steadying you, his other tied a leathery string around your forearms, cold, ripped, and scabbed: his ribbons. Your eyes widened, at the rough texture that covered the cool cloth.

"Wa-wait- Danny-!" you cried out.

The image of being tied up and left to the mercy of Ghostface felt dangerous, yet jarringly exciting. Your face felt hot, your body warm and bothered, his rough handling from the start had you rubbing your thighs, trying to ease the tingling in your groin.

"Either this or rope, bunny," his distorted voice whispered in your ear, singing a promise that would leave you more vulnerable to him.

You stilled, moaning lewdly when he ground his dented coat against your ass. He chuckled, deep and throaty at your cries, pulling back to hook a finger over your pants and push them down, admiring the wet patch on your panties with a tilted head and teasing voice.

"So wet already, and I haven't done anything yet."

Rutting into you, he watched you cover his dent - after having parted coat - slick, wetness leaking from your covered slit and soaking his stiff clothes. You looked ravishing from his view, bound and pressed down for him to use, at his complete beck and call if he wanted, but he preferred to push you enough to make you crack and comply. Your whines and whimpers, moans, and groans were all his to listen to. It made him so fuckin hard, to a point that it almost hurt to be confined inside his slacks.

He hastily unzipped, pulling the string of his boxer lower enough for his cock his spring out, slapping the coolness of his loose belts and coat. The freezing air of the forest made his cock twitch, tip angrily red and dripping precum, he was so excited that he could come at the mere sight of your squirming and whiny figure if it wouldn't make him embarrassed.

He pumped his shaft, spreading the pre over his whole length, and squeezed the base, he rolled his head back with a groan before guiding it to your covered slit. He slid over the silk, nudging at your folds and sliding to your ass. When you huffed and arched your ass towards him, he gripped your hips to still your movement, wanting to be in control - as he always did.

"You're a needy bunny, aren't you?" Danny rasped, staring down at your ass. "All right, all right, I'll fuck you deep and good. You want that, huh?"

He pulled the strap of your panties and let it snap back, your yelp sounded as good as the wet slap. He repeated it a few times, chuckling when you cried for mercy, for him to "please fuck me, Danny! Please!". He ripped it with a sharp tug, watching your silk lingerie hang from your hip as he inched closer, hot tip kissing the muscle of your opening. He thrust in with a quick jerk, groaning at the warmth and wet embrace of your cunt, head hinging back as he pulled back and slammed in roughly.

You yowled with each thrust, voice so high and breathy that he thought you'd faint; not that he'd be bothered with fucking your unconscious body. Your body bounced forward with Ghostface's strength, moans flowing through your mouth as you cried in relief.

He fucked like he killed, with passion and conviction, strongly and skillfully, he knew what to press, where to hit, and how to make you lose your mind. With a slight shift, he started pounding the sweet, spongy spot that made your mind numb. Where your hands struggled to free themselves from the leather and where your legs trashed, you froze, body rigid as you spasmed. His teasing made you so sensitive, so dumb just from the slight tilt of his curved cock to pound your g-spot, you came so quickly it was almost laughable to Ghostface if you weren't so adorable.

You hadn't even realized how soaked you made him, pants and boxer dripping with your slick and even wetter after you squirted over him. The squelch was so loud that he almost missed Mikaela's pained screech, absorbed by you.

"Shit- you're squeezing me, bun," he panted, pace becoming erratic as chased his climax.

His thrust became shallow but as deep and directed as it was from the start, shaft twitching and balls tightening. He came with bursts of cum, ropes covering your walls and flooding your womb as he groaned loudly, head bowed to your side to listen to your wailing mewls from being filled with warmth. He gave small, shallow thrusts, slow and careful with his softening dick to ease the soreness when you hissed.

He pulled away slowly, watching his cum ooze from your red, swollen folds, satisfaction brewed in his chest, seeing you fucked dumb and dripping with him. Using your fingers, he scooped up his cum and pushed it back inside, fingers knuckle deep. With a satisfied hum, he fixed his coat and belts over his pants and pulled your up so you'd look less ruffled and fucked.

"C'mon, bun, stay with me," he cooed, untying your hair and lifting you in his arms, shifting you into a more comfortable position. "The trial's over, we'll try something else next time."

Tired, you nodded groggily, brain tuning out everything but Ghostface's breathing that calmed you down.

#x reader #dbd x you #dbd x reader #dbd smut #dbd killer #dbd survivor #dbd fanfic #dbd ghostface x reader #dead by daylight ghostface #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface

[soapyghostie]

Hello!! Can you write any of the dbd killers (and The Doctor) with a reader who comes back severely drugged after a trial with The Clown? How would they react?

Ayyyyy! Another request, that’s been sitting in my inbox since forever, is done! Slowly, but surely getting back into writing. This is my first time writing for Evan and Frank. Hope y'all enjoy.

The Trapper/Evan MacMillan

When Evan sees you stumbling and disoriented, Evan’s eyes widen in immediate concern. He can feel his heart pounding as he rushes to your side, a surge of worry overtaking his typically stoic demeanor. He even feels fear coursing through him as he begs you to tell him what happened as he takes your hands in his shaking ones to try and stabilize you. 

When you finally tell him about your trial with The Clown, a deep-seated rage builds within Evan. His face is contorted with a mixture of worry and rage as he imagines the sadistic torment The Clown put you through. He grabs his weapon and grips it tightly with a burning desire for revenge. You’ll have to calm him down and convince him to stay with you; if not, he’ll storm off to teach The Clown a lesson. However, you do end up convincing him to stay, although he makes a mental note to have a ‘friendly’ conversation with The Clown later. 

Evan’s large hands, usually accustomed to handling large and dangerous tools, shake as he tends to your wounds. He does his best to be gentle as he’s not used to patching up wounds, normally being the cause of them. His usually stern expression softens as his heartaches at the sight of your suffering, revealing a side that only emerges in the face of genuine concern for you. Enjoy it while you can because he rarely shows this side of himself to anyone, even to you. 

Evan then wraps his arms around you in a silent comforting hug. Y’all stay there for many minutes remaining silent and steadfast as you recover. Evan’s eyes blaze with determination, silently promising that The Clown will pay for the anguish inflicted upon you.

The Legion/Frank Morrison

When you come stumbling into Ormond after your trial, Frank freezes in shock as he witnesses your disoriented state, his usually charismatic and cocky demeanor replaced with genuine concern. He rushes to your side and throws your arm over his shoulder to support you the rest of the way to the resort. Once inside, he’ll sit you down on one of the worn out and torn couches making sure you're comfortable before sitting down next to you. 

Frank will aggressively try to get you to talk to him about what happened. I advise you not to take it personally when it comes to Frank’s aggressiveness. This is just his way of showing he cares about you and he doesn’t know how to express himself in any other way so give him some slack. Jeez y’all. (Just kidding) Anyway, when you tell him about your trial with The Clown, a spark of fury ignites in Frank as he contemplates the sadistic acts committed towards you by The Clown. His worried expression twists into a snarl, a clear sign of revenge plotting against The Clown. However, Frank (for once) actually doesn’t give in to his impulses, due to your pleas, and stays to take care of you. He’ll get his gang together and plot a revenge plan on The Clown later while you're resting. No one hurts you and gets away with it. 

Despite his constant tough exterior, you can feel Frank’s hands shake as he patches up your wounds. He’s uncharacteristically tender, his eyes betraying a depth of emotion not often seen by him. Also, he’s at your beck and call. Whatever you need Frank will get it for you. Icepack? Food? A blanket? Frank is on it. 

Frank being the overprotective boyfriend he is will remain constantly by your side while you are recovering. Hey, you never know who could come and harm you? Anyway, Frank will hold you in his embrace as long as you will allow him too, whispering reassurances while also promising safety and vengeance, ensuring that The Clown’s actions toward you will not go unpunished.

The Doctor/Herman Carter

At first Herman doesn’t recognize your state as he is too absorbed into his work, although he does greet you, hearing you stumble into his office. However, when you don’t reciprocate a greeting of your own is when Herman looks up from his work. At that moment, his clinical gaze shifts immediately to genuine concern as he takes in your disoriented state. Worry flashes across Herman’s face as he assesses the situation as he springs out of his chair to your side, guiding you to a bed to lay down on. 

When you tell Herman what happened during your trial with The Clown, his mind starts racing with analytical anger as he contemplates the sadistic experiments that you told him that The Clown inflicted on you. However, in your drugged state and inability to read your partner’s emotions, you can’t tell what kind of emotions Herman is feeling due to him keeping that professional facade he always has. Although, if you look closely enough, you will see the determination burn brightly in his eyes to avenge you. 

Surprising even himself, Herman administers caring for you with precision, his usually clinical movement now laced with genuine empathy. He patches you up no problem with little to no error. Once you are all patched up, he suggests for you to get rest as your body won't be able to heal itself properly without it. 

Herman remains as a steadfast presence, checking in on you once and awhile. If you need or want anything, he’ll get it for you. As he helps you recover, a burning desire to slow and painfully torture The Clown gives way into his mind. Maybe once you are 100% again he’ll teach that fat fuck a lesson or two.

#dead by deadlight #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #the trapper #evan macmillan #evan macmillan x reader #the trapper x reader #dbd legion #the legion #frank morrison #frank morrison x reader #the legion x reader #the doctor #herman carter x reader #herman carter #the doctor x reader #sophi ghostie writes

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Killers when you catch them masturbating (Pt.4)

Requested: Yes! [Sorry! I just saw you answered now, I wish to see frank and Joey too if you can! And some other killers of your choice] + [So, uh- about catching the killers masturbating... May I please get a third part featuring Kazan, Kenneth and Kaleb if it's not too much to ask? Thank you... (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)]

Warnings: Spice

A/N:

Frank

Frank is someone who masturbates anywhere and everywhere, as soon as the need hits him. If he ever postpones it, he gets pissed and loses his head too easily. And that causes him to lose trials. So he’s sitting there, up in the second floor rooms in Ormond, stroking himself hard and fast, too tired to take his time, when he spots you. Crouching just outside on the balcony, trying to shut up a crow. Clearly, you had gotten stuck there after he barged into the room mid trial, unable to make an escape with him still there. That’s when he decides that his hand isn’t enough and he’ll cage you in on the balcony, taking you on your belly, his hand over your mouth to shut up your screams as he fucks you from behind without a care for your pleasure.

Joey

Joey, unlike Frank, doesn’t really have a high libido. Pretty average, maybe a little on the less side. And when he does feel the need, he just wants to get it done with as soon as possible. He’s sitting on Adriana’s bed in shelter woods (because he’s a guy that likes to be comfortable when he’s doing his thing) in the middle of a trial, something unusual for him. But he was throbbing in his pants and he knew every survivor he picked up could feel it. He was getting sloppy because of it too, so he couldn’t resist any longer, stroking himself when he managed to catch sight of you, wide eyed as you stood on the other side of the window, crouched behind a pile of boxes with just your head peeking out. At first he was pissed, wanted to hurt you for spying on him when clearly you weren’t invited. But the longer it went on, him watching you watching him, the less angry he was. It was….nice, almost. It had been so long since someone looked at him with desire. The Entity should stop putting you in trials with him from now on, cause every time he gets a look at your face, he can’t help but hope you’ll find him in whatever corner of the map he’s stuck himself in, just so he can see you watch him. And maybe, after a while, he’ll get bold enough to snatch you up. And then you can show him.

Caleb

Caleb’s an old man so the need to get off doesn’t strike him as often as it used to, though it certainly does come more often for him than for others his age. He’s grumpy about it instead of happy like many other older men would be at that age. He finds it annoying to have to deal if it pops up in the middle of the trial. The only time he really feels comfortable indulging in it is if he happens to be on his home turf. Now, that doesn’t mean that he’s like some of the others that only get off outside of trials. He’s wacked it plenty of times in trials, it just has to be a time where he’s on Dead Dawg’s map. This being one such time, leaning back against the poker table on the ground floor with his cock in his hand, grunting and growling as he tries to reach that finish line. That’s when he spots you, creeping past the window just across from the open door, seemingly oblivious to his presence. He took a puff of his cigar, watching you freeze as he starts to step closer, not knowing where he is until he’s right above you. And when you look up, that’s when he cums, his seed going all over your face. It’s a good look on you, he thinks.

#dbd #dead by daylight #Frank Morrison #frank morrison x reader #dbd Joey #dead by daylight Joey #legion Joey #dbd Joey x reader #legion Joey x reader #Caleb Quinn #caleb quinn x reader

[smol-dragon]

Frank Morrison x Reader (One-shot) Words: 385 Warnings: Possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, implied kidnapping

yeah idk where this was going i was just typing stuff in between matches.

In his eyes, you two had everything.

You could see him whenever, never had to worry about the weight of the world ever again now that you were in the Fog- so why weren't you happy? Why did you talk about missing Ormond? He hated the vile feelings that would bubble in his chest whenever you got wistful, spoke so fondly of a place that did nothing but churn out battered and broken people. How could you not love this place like him? Like the others? It was heaven, a personal playground where they could do whatever they wanted whenever they pleased.

Sure, being on the 'killed' side of things wasn't the most ideal, but he at least tried to equal it out by sparing you, that had to count for something! It was almost like showing up to this place changed you, changed you for the worst.

You didn't echo his sentiments nearly as much, talked about showing empathy to people who didn't give a rats ass about him one way or another.

"I just want things to go back to the way they were, with you."

It had stung, hearing the person that claimed to love him not appreciate him in his rawest form, but at the same time you were never overly keen on his lifestyle. Would this have happened had the two of you not been swept up into the Entity's realm? Would you have betrayed him just the same?

Maybe you would've. And maybe, in that timeline, he would've cut ties with you and carried on, forgotten you even. But this wasn't then and he wasn't that person, couldn't be.

You had made a place for yourself in his heart, a place that dug into his very soul and sapped him of life; a muse for his art. He might've been fucked up, but as he approached the bonfire all too familiar to him, he knew he couldn't let you go. Even if your feelings were beginning to wane, he knew spending time with him and the rest of the Legion in the mockery of Ormond would change that, it had to.

He couldn't, wouldn't lose you, even if it meant stealing you all for himself when the trials didn't take you.

He would have you, one way or another.

#frank morrison x reader #the legion x reader #dead by daylight imagines #frank morrison imagines #the legion imagines #dbd #dead by daylight #frank morrison #the legion #dead by daylight x reader #gender neutral

[daughterofyeshuaa]

Hiii ❤️ I was wondering if I could get a (dbd) Frank x fem reader were her and ash broke up and she goes to the legion for comfort for the breakup. Frank's always had a thing for the reader so he sees his chance to position himself as the next bf and does this progressively over the next couple of months while she strengthens her friendship with the rest of the legion. Ofc they get together in the end (I'm sorry if this is not super specific feel free to add whatever to this)

Heyy of course, here you go enjoy it :) ❤️❤️❤️

Frank x Fem! Reader

Today, you were happy. You reached your 2 year anniversary with Ashley, your longtime boyfriend. You two met when you first came in the realm and he practically took you under his wing and taught you everything.

You had a thought though.. Was he losing feelings for you? He'd choose to spend more time with his friends over you and and you rarely spent time together. You were concerned to say the least.

So, you decided to ask Ashley what was up, but before you could say anything, you could already tell how this conversation would go based on his facial expression.

"Hey y/n, can we talk?"

"Sure"

"We need to break up. Im sorry"

Your eyes widen. The way he said it sounds like he barely cared at all.

"I understand.." you looked down and walked to the woods. Your feet carried you to Ormond. You loved the Legion members because for some odd reason, they were always nice to you. So, you kept walking until you heard rock music. You carefully approached them and cleared your throat. Their heads snap towards you "Uh! I.." you couldn't get your words out as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Frank could immediately tell something was wrong with you.

"What are you doing here? Don't you know its dangerous?" Frank got up from his seat and walked towards you, folding his arms.

"I don't know where else to go" you mumbled, your voice cracking.

Frank felt pity. For the first time ever, he felt pity "What happened?" he sits you down and they all listen.

"I just got broken up with" you started crying now, breathing rapidly. Frank puts his arm around your shoulder "By whom?"

"Ashley" you lean into Frank's touch. Frank was secretly celebrating but on the surface, he looked completely sympathetic.

"Well, I know who we're targeting next" Julie smirked.

"Ditto" replied Susie.

You were surprised when Frank hugged you. You gasped but hugged back. He was rubbing your back in circles, which was honestly quite relaxing. You cry more into his shoulder. They looked at Frank in shock. Frank had a soft side? Since when?

As the months go by, your relationship with the Legion grew more and more and you were getting quite close with Frank especially. You visited them again but on this particular day, Frank acted differently. He acted weird. You knew something was up when the Entity introduced a new realm filled with cherry blossoms and well taken care of plants.

Frank had asked you if you wanted to check it out together, ALONE. To which you agreed. He took you up a hill. Now, you were surprised at how beautifully the Entity can create realms.

"So uhh, Y/n. What do you think?" he nervously rubbed his neck. You chuckled "You're saying this as if you're the one who made it"

"I did work for this" Frank replied "I sacrificed so many people, so the Entity rewarded me with a proper place where I can.. Hang out with you! Yes.

You smiled "It's beautiful"

Frank smiled from behind his mask "Good" he took your hand with one hand and with the other took his mask off. This was the first time you saw his face and to be honest, he was cute. He even had freckles (based on the Legion comic). He took your other hand "Y/n.. I love you. I don't know if you're ready but- hmfff" you interrupted him with a kiss.

"Oh Fank! You have no idea how happy I am to hear those words from you" you smiled up at him. You were caught off guard when Frank roughly kissed you. You wrap your arms around his neck and embrace the kiss.

You may have lost Ashley, but at least have Frank to kiss you better :)

#dbd #dead by daylight #The Legion #dbd legion #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #legion x reader #frank x reader #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison

[unnerving-presence]

Hellooo, I wanted to say that I love your writing, I am so happy that I found your profile, you are a very talented person.

And I have an order! , the killers (Frank, Susie, Evan Macmillan, Herman Carter and Rin Yamaoka) react to an s/o who flirts with them, but s/o speaks another language, so they can't understand anything they say, this s/o also has a very bad handle of english.

(English is not my original language so I'm very sorry if you can't quite understand what I wanted to say.)

this is a really cool concept! i wish i knew what your original language was so i could implement it into this 😭

i did also feel sort of overwhelmed with the amount of characters so i did not include susie or herman in this :( i’m sorry.

Frank Morrison:

I imagine you’d try to flirt with him outside of trials, so him seeing you arrive in his realm has him pretty surprised. He’s never had anybody other than his friends with him in Ormond, and never expected anybody to go there willingly. Part of him is tempted to try and get you out, but it seems his friends are pretty welcoming of you when you approach the ski lodge with a nervous but hopeful smile.

Another thing he hadn’t expected was that you spoke another language. What were you trying to say? Could Susie or Joey translate? Did they even understand?

Frank is slightly relieved at the fact that you know at least some English, and will ask you various questions as to why you’re here and what you want. If you choose to try and compliment him, he’ll be even more surprised. You? A survivor? Complimenting him? He’s assigned to kill you! Why are you being nice to him? It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but it just seems weird to hear.

The more you compliment him, the more he realizes that you’re trying to flirt. Sometimes if you switch up your language mid sentence or even replace some english words with some from your native language, he catches onto it. Especially if you look away after or even lower your voice when you say it.

Frank was always interested in Julie. Maybe it’s the fact that you try your best with the English that you know to compliment and flirt with him, or maybe it’s because of how kind you are to his friends, or even the fact that you speak another language in the first place and he thinks it’s hot as shit. Either way, Frank doesn’t like these new feelings. They aren’t unfamiliar, but he hates that they aren’t for someone who stands by his side in The Legion. Someone who doesn’t have the same motives as he does. He can’t even understand your native language, so it only frustrates him more. He doesn’t know what to do and it pisses him off. Maybe you could help him?

Evan Macmillan:

Much like Frank, Evan will be very confused and irritated on why you decided to walk into his realm like you owned it. He barely gets any free time as it is. Why are you disturbing his peace?

Very confused when you start speaking another language. How is he supposed to tell you that he doesn’t want you in his realm now? Once you realize that he doesn’t understand you and you start attempting to speak English to get your point across Evan immediately tries to tell you that he doesn’t want you here. Probably doesn’t realize you’re trying to flirt with him either.

When you don’t leave and continue speaking Evan finally decides to listen to your words, realizing what you wanted to say to him. It’s both bizarre for him to hear and he feels a little bit bad for being so aggressive with you at first. He feels shittier when he realizes that your broken English wasn’t you just stuttering over your words either.

Even when you aren’t speaking full and coherent sentences, Evan understands what you want to say. Hearing words like strong, tall, handsome, good-looking makes him not want to believe what you’re trying to say. It’s so flattering but it makes him angry at the same time. You’re not supposed to feel this way about him and he isn’t supposed to care about what you think of him but he does anyways. It’s frustrating in more ways than one but Evan can’t resist your words of praise.

Evan in no way shows that you flatter him with your words. He’s quite good at hiding his emotions, so don’t feel like he’s a lost cause. If he hasn’t already killed you, you’ve gotten somewhere with him. Even if your English isn’t perfect Evan has no problem speaking to you. He may even allow you to stay with him if you’re ever feeling lonely. Just for a little though. You’ve affected him a lot more than you know.

Rin Yamaoka:

While Rin is known for her endless rage her ancestors brought upon her, she can be quite docile outside of trials if she isn’t provoked. Seeing you walk into her realm with an almost fearful look on your face reminds her of herself.

Not really surprised when you speak a language she can’t understand. She often overhears conversations from other survivors that aren’t spoken in her language. You speaking a foreign language isn’t really a shock to her. Until you start speaking broken Japanese in an attempt to get your point across.

Rin doesn’t even really mind that you’re not a fluent speaker, her face still lightens up when you do say some words she can understand. It makes her happier when she realizes that you’re trying to flirt with her too. Some part of her was beginning to get angry that she couldn’t understand you, so you’re pretty lucky you knew some Japanese. You might’ve been sliced up if she got too impatient.

You may even surprise yourself if she seems to look happier than before. Rin never got too many compliments before she was brought to the realm and was often taught that she shouldn’t be proud of who she is. Even if the compliments aren’t necessarily about her as a person, she still appreciates them nonetheless.

It may take some time for Rin to fully accept that you’ve said those things to her, and it might be longer before she allows you to be apart of her life. With Kazan who will likely be breathing down her neck about it and the thought of the Entity using you against her, it’s hard to know what to do. Either way, she’s very happy that you spoke to her that day. She’s felt increasingly better about herself since.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #evan macmillan x reader #rin yamaoka x reader #frank morrison x reader

[creatureshrieks]

Frank inhales the cold winter air of Ormond and lets out a breathy laugh. There's the scent of fresh blood in the air, so heavy and thick he could practically taste it. He lived for these days, when the Entity saw it fit to give them a trial, to let the Legion run free. He takes a moment to wipe the handle and blade of his knife across the leather on his chest, adding further evidence of his carnage onto his person and ensuring he had the best grip he could on his blade. He scans the horizon as he does so, searching for movement, the disturbance of crows.

It's a dead silence that greets him and Frank can't help but feel even more excited. These Survivors knew what they were doing! Hiding out, thinking, waiting for the perfect chance to come out of their holes and keep trying to achieve the impossible. Frank had already ensured one of them had died to his blade, their body long since taken by the creature that brought them all here. Unfortunate for the Survivors. They were one man down and Ormond didn't offer too many places to hide. He stands by the lodge, listening for any breathing, whines pain, creeping footsteps as he scans the scene. His eyes eventually land on a little shack nearby, a dilapidated and old building that never existed there. Specially made by the Entity each time. His expression mimics his mask as he approaches, crouching down low in a vague attempt to be sneaky. He wasn't one for stealth, but hey. He liked to change things up. He approaches the side of the building and ducks down under the open window. He waits, he listens. He wonders if whoever is inside can hear their heartbeat. Do they hear him breathing? Do they even know he's out there? It's only another second before Frank vaults the opened window. He knows someone's in here.

" Oh, wow... looks like someone gave me the slip! " He taunts, dramatically shrugging his shoulders. Frank shakes his head, slow, before turning to face the red lockers pressed up against one of the corners. He didn't hear anyone run, didn't see it either. He approaches, waits another second- He rips open the door of one, his free hand reaching in to snatch the arm of the Survivor hiding inside. He turns with them, tossing them to the ground of the shack with a laugh. He looms over them, knife in hand. " Sorry, man, better luck next time, " A malicious taunt, though as Frank finally looks the other over, he notices something. " Oh, hey! I've never seen you before. You're different, " Not the same batch of Survivors he'd spent years slaughtering. Frank sounds oddly excited about that prospect. it at least kept him from stabbing the poor dude as soon as he hit the ground, at least.

" Hey, am I your first ? Or did you already go and get yourself killed by someone else? "

@coastercrushed || about to get stabbed

#coastercrushed #FRANK || ic #//I decided NOT to make him as vulgar as he could've been LMAO

[thetypingpup]

Off Script: Part 1

banner by @yujaemna​

Link to Part 2​

Pairing: The Legion!Xiaojun x Yan!Survivor!Female Reader

AU: Dead by Daylight

Genre: smut, aspects of horror

Wordcount: 12.3K

Content: little rundown of the dead by daylight game at the beginning so you don’t need prior knowledge going into this, allusions to violence and death but nothing graphic (xiaojun’s a killer in this so), yandere content (including stalking, obsession, and possessiveness), fingering (female receiving), praise, petnames (sweetheart and baby), oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, he fucks you against a generator, riding on the couch, little bit of nipple play, knife play, some mask kink, hair pulling (male receiving), no established power dynamics but there’s some switching going on

Taglist: @mint-yooxgi, @hall0ween-twn, @jenoslutie, @yujaemna, @mrkis, @ncteez

The frosted kiss of snowflakes upon your face awakens you. You squint against the snowflakes that land on your skin, melting them with a rub of your fingertips before allowing your eyes to open. You’re surrounded by grass so tall that you have to stand to see above it. The looming overcast and fog is so intense it's impossible to tell if the pervasive haze signifies day or night, though the gloom of shadowed teal indicates that sunlight must be a distant memory. A scattered sprawl of boulders and broken trees lies before you, with snow coated evergreens dotted throughout. Open structures of wood, brick, and concrete are strewn about the grounds, as though the buildings that once were have been dismembered at the seams. A range of snowy mountains looms in the distance beyond the fence of brick towers looped together by steel that mark the boundaries of the territory.

A smile forms on your face as you take in your surroundings. You’ve awakened in this realm before. Mount Ormond Resort has become a favorite location of yours. You wonder how this area, which was once a beacon of relaxed escapism, became such a desolate waste. You don’t know how this place became consumed by the ever present Entity, but you know exactly how to navigate this snow coated domain. The only question is if he appeared here as well.

You start to wander through the grass, searching for the others that appeared in the arena with you. The pursuit of escape is a familiar routine to say the least. Each time you awaken in a new terrain, with no memory of how you arrived, three others awaken with you. The goal is for the four of you to open the doors on either side of the expanse and escape. The price of failure is death, for if you fail, the terror within will hunt you down.  

The terror within is different each time. An assortment of killers inhabits this world, killers that vary in skill and ability. The killer that you face changes each time, but the same ruthless drive to murder links them all. You've been through enough of these trials to have encountered each one at least a few times. 

Other than the variance in locale and killer, these trials follow a constant format. You attempt to escape, or you fall victim to the evil that lurks about. The killer will chase and wound you with their weapon of choice, until you’re weak enough to be caught and hauled away. Once caught, said killer will mount you onto one of the ghastly hooks strewn about the terrain like a crude offering of meat. Should you fail in escaping its grasp, an unholy entity emerges from the darkness, spears your body with the sharp points of its limbs, and takes your lifeless body into the void above. Your goal is for your group to flee before that happens and survive these horrors.

Ordinarily, the civilians clamor for escape, craving the warm glow of The Campfire that marks the end of the trial. The other option is to succumb to the sweet release of death once the horror and pain of these twisted trials proves to be too much. 

You choose neither, instead deciding to be an active player in these games. These trials, a source of terror to so many, are nothing short of thrilling to you. The excitement of the chase, the satisfaction of sabotaging and outsmarting an assailant, the sense of wonderment you feel watching these killers utilize their varied abilities, have all melded together in an addictive adrenaline rush. You deride a great deal of gratification from mastering these trials, taking your time to discover every strategy there is to succeed. To you, a defeat upon one of those grisly hooks is not a harbinger of doom, but rather a spark that sets alight the desire to improve and escape the next time. You have no concept of life beyond this endless loop of death and resuscitation. Since you exist as nothing more than a pawn in this cruel game, you might as well have fun playing. 

You locate the others you’re meant to survive with, spotting them hard at work on a generator; a large engine complete with a row of pistons on either side and a floodlight mounted up top. If your group succeeds in activating this one, only four more need to be activated to power the exit doors. You’re already giddy with excitement, all but skipping into the fractured building to join them. The flickering flame perched on a brick beam lights the way as they work. They tinker with the mechanical structure and it begins to whir to life, the cylinders on the side slowly starting to fire off one by one. You aid them, taking your place on the side and fiddling with the machinery. The floodlight begins to come alight as you make progress, glowing brighter the further along you are in repairs. You’ve done this so many times it’s easy to let your hands automatically move over the console, and even easier to let your mind wander. The whirring of the machine, the blaring beam of the lights, the red paint on the accents, all starts to fade from your perception. 

You wonder again if you’ll see him this round; the knife wielding killer with a smiling face scrawled onto his ceramic mask.

You’ve only encountered him a few times, but that was just enough to have you fixated. You admire a great many of the killers, but he’s the one that has you this enraptured. For one thing he’s fast, faster than any of the other killers, with the unique ability to mortally wound an entire group with a single burst of speed. It turns the lethargic sense of looming danger into a rapid rush of dread, which excites you to no end. The excitement of his pursuit always courses through you with the speed of a match being struck, igniting a flame of arousal in its wake. That flame is fanned by his sheer revelry in ruthlessness, and the way he wields his hunting knife with such expert malignance. You find yourself contemplating the thought of his knife against your skin, slowly running along your flesh, scintillating your nerves with its sharpness. He thrills you to no end, so much so that you’d often linger as he executes his kills. The advantage of being able to immediately pluck your teammate off the hook is abandoned when you watch him. For a few stolen moments, completing the trial ceases to matter. All that matters is him. 

While everyone’s heart races loudly out of trepidation when he’s near, this masked killer has your heart pounding out of titillated desire. You feel yourself getting turned on the more you think about him, wondering how the edge of his blade will feel right against your neck if he does catch you. 

Lost in your thoughts, your hand slips on the generator, and you fumble on the console. Sparks fly from the machine and the resulting boom brings you out of your reverie. Everyone hears the telltale sign that the killer is closing in, your tandem heartbeats pounding louder the closer they get. Your companion is shaking, and you can tell that he already feels the sluggish crawl of cortisol through his bloodstream. You on the other hand are invigorated by adrenaline. You all but jump when you see a flash of that mask among the distant trees. It’s him! You don’t know when you’ll encounter him again, and you’ll be damned if you let this opportunity go to waste.

This is your chance. 

“I’ll distract him.” You whisper sharply to the others, “Run!”

They don’t need to be told twice. They’re quick to scatter off into the night, hoping to never be found. You know that he’ll be able to catch them with a single charge through the woods, but not this time. This time you’re determined to keep his focus on you. This time, he’ll be pursuing you and only you. You step away from the generator and right into the center of this broken building.

The killer steps past the threshold and into the light. The firelight flickers over the curve of his white mask, a mask that’s been muted with scratches and blood stains. The half lit floodlight casts a glow over the demented smile scrawled on the surface. Your heart pounds as he steps closer, as he clutches his knife tighter in his hand. Even from this distance, his presence is looming. It makes the hoodie and jeans he dons appear as if they’re darkened not by dye, but by the umbrage of the night itself. It makes his weapon seem like more than just a simple hunting knife, but a more imposing, dangerous blade. The jagged serrations towards the point of the spine glint with the threat of added agony should he manage to wound you. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you feel his piercing gaze through the holes poked onto the ceramic cover, drawn to those piercing centers by the circles drawn around them. You focus on those central openings as if you’re staring into his eyes, and in your mind, that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

Your heart races with glee. Right now it’s just you and him, just as it should be. No one else deserves to be on the receiving end of his intense stare. With a grin, you take off across the realm, and he immediately rounds on your heels.

The realm passes by in a blur of shadowed teal and towering trees as the chase ensues. The grass rustles noisily as you race through, offset by the ruckus of running over different floors. You dash between buildings, vault over boulders, slide past corners, in an effort to outrun him. He matches you move for move, showing no sign of slowing or stopping. You throw down a pallet to block his path, he hops over it. You run through a shed and jump through a window, he leaps after you. You round a corner only to dash in the opposite direction, he catches onto your trick and follows after you. He remains right on your heels just out of reach, so close you can practically feel the sharp end of his blade, and you have to sprint faster just to gain some distance.

This is why you love chases with this killer so much. You have to be faster to outrun him than any of the other killers, which makes your heart pound and your lungs strain from the effort. The sheer exertion of maintaining such intense speed physically stimulates you. You’re made to employ every strategy you’ve acquired in these trials, providing simultaneous stimulation for your mind. Adrenaline merges with alarmed suspense in the most delectable way, forming the arousal that courses through you. He’s making you work for your victory, and you love every moment of it. The intensity of his stare alone is enough to have you pulsing with need, and now that you have his full attention, now that you have him this close, pure desire starts to bloom within you.

You know exactly where to lead him next.

The killer is grinning behind his mask, his grin only widening as he closes in. He pays no heed to the way the grass gives way to wooden floorboards underfoot as he follows you. Chasing you is the most fun he’s had in ages. You managed to make him break a sweat in this freezing terrain. The challenge you posed has been thrilling to say the least, but now he’s closing in. He’s so close to catching you, so close to achieving payoff for such an intense challenge. He raises his knife, ready to bring it down with a brutal stab, ready to execute a satisfying kill.

But you don’t continue to flee. Instead you stop and turn to face him, not moving, not even flinching as he advances. He’s so stunned that by the sudden shift he halts, the point of his knife hovering right at your collarbone. Only the rise and fall of your chest brings you in contact with the knife for brief moments at a time.

The frenzy of the chase begins to fade, his heart still hammering from the rush as he takes in his surroundings. He sees that you led him into the decrepit chalet that was once the center of the resort, but is now the center of this cursed arena. The blight of age and frost has deteriorated every corner of this place, from the office to the side, to the bar tucked away in the back, to the rooms situated up and around the main area. Black spray paint is scrawled all along the chipping walls and only adds to the sense of disrepair. The roof is so dilapidated that snowfall seeps through, and icicles line the splintered roofbeams. Broken windows fogged up with frost let in whistling gusts of wind and blasts of snow, snow that collects in piles on the ground. The only fixtures that haven’t completely decayed are the fireplace at the center of the room that’s connected to the ceiling with a chimney reminiscent of a furnace pipe, and the conversation pit situated in a circle around it.

You must have stopped in here to offer yourself as a sacrifice, the way so many have before. He can’t fathom another reason to stop mid chase. Except, he notices that you haven’t stopped him in some corner on the far side of the room, pausing when you realize there’s nowhere left to go. You’ve stopped right next to the generator by the stairs, right next to the very thing you need to activate in order to escape. But you don’t. You don’t make any move other than to lean against the rustic contraption, holding your ground even with the blade dangerously close to piercing your skin, tilting your head with coquettish intent. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume that you wanted him to catch you.

It’s certainly an interesting thought.

He takes a single step back to get a better look at you. Even in the dim cover of shadow, your visage is completely illuminated, as if capturing the glow of the fire and claiming it for yourself. It makes it easy for his eyes to rove over your form, and that’s when he realizes- 

It’s you! You’re the one that keeps getting away.

He’s only seen you a few times before, when The Entity decides you should be among the next batch of people he hunts and kills. You’ve always stood out amongst the scores of people subjected to these trials. You’ve always been quicker, more clever than the others. You’ve never shied away from the brutality or cowered in terror. You don’t even seem to fear The Entity, which made you stand out even more. He could never corner you before now, could barely ever get you within reach, but the chase with you was always the most exhilarating. You’ve made him work for it, made him be more agile and quick just for the chance to catch you. With you, he simply had to be better. So even though you always manage to elude him and escape, he finds a round far more satisfying if you are among the humans clamoring for survival. You give him a good enough challenge that he feels his blood pumping faster than before.

He’s only ever seen you in fleeting glances as the landscape whizzes by in a blur, never long enough to take in any detail. In this moment of stillness, he gets to truly gaze upon you for the first time, and he’s in absolute awe. Simply put, he can’t believe just how attractive you are. From your pretty face, to the appealing shape of your body, he’s drawn to every part of you. In his eyes you’re downright alluring, perfect in every way. He’s never encountered anyone this tempting before, and the confidence you exude makes you all the more enticing.

“I was wondering when you’d finally catch me.” Your quip breaks the silence, and your boldness has him taken aback.

“Finally?” He questions curiously, “You’ve been waiting for this?”

You reply with a grin, “More than you know. Took you long enough, by the way. I was thinking you’d never pull it off.”

It seems you’re intent on presenting a challenge in more ways than one, which only tantalizes him more. He struck gold with you.

“Well aren’t you bold?” As bold as you are beautiful, though he reigns in that musing to maintain some veneer of control. Slowly, he runs his knife right along your face, lightly enough to barely ghost your skin. He continues to admire you, his line of sight following the path of his blade. He eyes your alluring features as he traces the knife along the curve of your face and down to your neck. The phantom touch has you shivering in excitement before him. He places the blade right at the soft part beneath your jaw, right where it gives way to the flesh of your neck, “Alright, you have my attention. What is it you want from me?”

He’s been in this situation before, though admittedly there’s never been this much tension sparking in the air like static. But regardless, he’s cornered a person before, so he knows how this goes. He’s certain that your next words will be a plea for him to spare the others, telling him whatever you feel you have to so you’ll let them pass through the exit alive. Maybe you’ll make an appeal for your own life, offer the others so that you might have a chance to escape. He’s fully expecting the same dull appeals he’s heard countless times, but your next words have him stunned.

Instead of reciting some recycled plea for mercy with an equally overdone shrill cry, you request in a rather sultry voice, “I want to see what’s under that mask of yours.”

The suggestive undertones echo loudly, lingering in the air amidst the heavy silence that follows. 

Well, this is new. People have wanted to unmask him before, but that was always so they could try to catch him off guard, or otherwise leave him exposed. No one has ever wanted to unmask him out of a want to see what lies beneath. He’s never inspired such infatuation in someone before, though to be fair he didn’t think it was possible in this environment. Hearing your emphatic confession has him considering that possibility, has him drawn that much more to you, has him pressing you right against the generator in the middle of the room. You start panting softly at this, unable to contain your eagerness. 

These trials present only two options, escape or death, but you’ve somehow presented a third. No one has ever been this bold before, nor has anyone expressed such shameless interest in him. It’s refreshing, like an early winter chill, one that’s instantly followed by a wave of heated hedonistic hankering. He hasn’t felt the touch of another since before he had gotten trapped in this godforsaken figment of reality. He had forgotten there was more to existence aside from the endless pursuit of victims. He didn’t know people could feel anything towards him besides fear, not until now.

He didn’t know he was capable of feeling such lust until now, but you have him absolutely enraptured. You’re so fucking gorgeous he can’t help his attraction to you, which is as instant as it is intense. His mind wanders the longer he stares at you. He’s transfixed by the rise and fall of your chest in time with your breathing. He wonders how your breasts would feel in his hands, and how you would sigh in bliss as he fondles them. Your hands clutch the pipe arched over the generator. He wonders what they would feel like running all over his body, or wrapped around his cock. He wants to make you come undone for him, to bring you to the height of pleasure over and over until you’re trembling. He wants to make you moan, make you cry out, make you beg for more. He wants to tell you his name just so you have something to scream when he makes you cum, just so you have something to remember when he makes all your other thoughts vanish. 

The heated glint in your eyes tells him your mind is reeling with equally depraved thoughts about him. The way your frosted breath puffs from your lips and fans out over the smile on his mask is enticing to say the least. He wonders what you would do, what he would do, without the barrier of his mask between you. Which of you would be the first to close the distance between your lips? At present, it’s truly anybody’s game.

Perhaps now is the time for a new sort of game, especially since you’re so willing to play. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you see my face,” He ponders aloud, pressing the knife right against your racing pulse, “But you’ll have to earn it.”

The wispy waver in your voice tells him you’re already brimming with titillation, “How do I do that?”

“Keep my attention. Show me why I should reveal myself to you.” He quips playfully, wondering if you’ll be just as much of a tease.

Though instead of playing coy right back, you all but blurt out what you want, “What if I satisfy you? Show you pleasure beyond what you’ve ever felt before? Would that make me worthy enough to see your face?”

Now it’s his turn to hear his racing heartrate in his ears, but he retains his composed hum as he speaks, “Perhaps it would. There’s only one way to know for sure.”

With his free hand, he reaches down to undo his pants. Your line of sight is instantly drawn down between his legs, your lower lip retreating beneath your teeth. You can see that he’s already half hard from the pent up tension, which only serves to make you crave him more. He lazily strokes his cock, your eyes following the motion of his hand. You swallow, your mouth already starting to water as you watch. He chuckles at this, “I’ll let you please me, and if I’m fully satisfied, I’ll let you have a glimpse beneath my mask. Sound fair?”

“Yes.” You barely get the word out before you’re already lowering to your knees. The moment your knees meet the floor, you’re replacing his hand with your own, stroking his length.

“Guess I won’t be needing this right now.” From the corner of your eye you see his grip loosening on the knife, and you’re quick to comment. 

“No, keep it.” You insist, peering up at him through your lashes, “I wanna feel it against my skin while I suck you off.”

“You’re even kinkier than I thought. I like that.” He obliges you, bringing the blade up to your throat. His voice deepens to a sensual timbre, accented by the cold press of the blade, “Now suck.”

Slyly, you pull his pants down more and press a kiss to both of his hips, sending pleasant shudders through him. Then, slowly, you take the head of his cock into your mouth. From the moment you wrap your lips around him, he’s already moaning out in pleasure. Your lips feel so fucking good wrapped around the tip, and the way your tongue toys with the head already has his toes curling. You start to take him in deeper and fuck the way you engulf him is downright scintillating. His other hand rests on your head, pushing you down further, already wanting to feel more. You keep up easily, bobbing your head up and down at a steady pace, letting your tongue trace patterns along the underside. Your hand wraps around the rest of his length, working in tandem with your mouth. 

Though muffled by his mask, his moans are unmistakable, seeping through the ceramic cover like the snow seeping through the broken roof. The slick wet sounds of your mouth moving up and down overpower the crackling of the fire and the persistent whistle of the wind. He’s already submerged in pleasure, pushing your head down to take him deeper and deeper with every bob. Pleasure flows through him in time with your motions, overtaking his mind with wanton need. He almost forgets about the knife in his hand until he sees the blade glint when he looks down, and that’s when an idea comes to mind.

He taps your chin with the tip of his knife, prompting you to, “Look at me, baby.”

His breath hitches sharply when your eyes meet. Your gaze emits a surge of arousal so intense his cock twitches in your mouth. He manages to keep the knife steady against your neck, and he clutches it tighter to anchor himself, elsewise he would surely unravel right before your eyes. Half of him wants to let his eyes slide shut in bliss, while the other half wants to take in the way the firelight flickers over your gorgeous face.

“Fuck, you look so pretty, baby.” He can’t help but let the musing slip, letting the visage of control slip just a bit. It’s just so easy to lose himself in the pleasure you give him, to let his mind go blank and just enjoy the wet heat of your mouth and the soft warmth of your hand. It’s so easy to endear you with praise and pet names, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s worth it, seeing your eyes come alight and feeling the vibrations of your excited hums.

You pull back with and stroke his cock at a brisk pace, gasping out a plea for him to, “Keep talking to me. You sound so fucking hot.”

“That’s it sweetheart, don’t stop.” He guides your head back down onto his cock, “Keep using that pretty mouth of yours.”

The praise has your mind reeling, pride swelling in your chest. Even as your mouth works the turgid flesh of his cock, the corners of your lips turn upwards in a proud smile. Every pet name and endearment makes your chest warm with elation, and makes your core pulse with arousal. Reveling in the way his cock fills your mouth, you pick up the pace. You suckle faster, harder, in time with his rough grunts and groans for more. You move down lower and lower, until your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of the tip breaching your throat. Every time you swallow, you feel the cold, sharp press of his knife against your throat, your heart racing at the sensation. His hips buck in time with your motions up and down on his cock, and before you know it, your nose meets the zipper of his hoodie with every thrust. 

You look up intently, staring up at the ivory colored cover over his face, and the cruel smile scratched onto the surface. With the barrier of the mask, you’re made to focus on the sounds emitted from within, on his filthy words and guttural moans of pleasure. There’s something melodic to his voice that makes it sound like he’s singing your praises, and it makes pure, aching need radiate from between your legs. Your other hand slips into your pants, pressing against your clit to try and seek some relief. He sounds so fucking good, and you wanna hear more. 

“You’re so good at this baby, so fucking good. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” He pants shamelessly, and it takes everything in you not to cum from his praise alone. You’ve managed to make him come apart already, managed to unthaw his icy resolve with the liquid heat of lust. You can tell he’s getting close from the way his cock throbs in your mouth, from the way his balls tense against your chin. You pick up the pace, sucking faster to bring him to climax. Your other hand fondles his balls, softly enough to tease and titillate, keeping him enveloped in you as you bring him closer to release. He stops you before you right before he cums, tugging you off his cock with a hand in your hair, letting out rasping gasps for air.

Right as you’re about to question him, he answers the query forming on your tongue, “Don’t wanna cum yet. I wanna fuck you first.”

Despite being out of breath, you manage to smirk and breathlessly quip, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You’re quick to stand and lean back against the generator, spreading your legs so he can slot himself between them. Anticipation has your hands working quickly to undo your pants and shove them out of the way, already aching to feel his touch on your bare skin. You barely manage to step out of one pant leg before he pulls you closer with a growl, “C’mere baby. Lemme get you ready for me.”

It’s flattering as well as erotic to see that he’s just as impatient as you. With a strong grasp, he hitches your leg over his hip, bringing you flush against him. That same hand trails down to your inner thigh, before stopping right between your legs. Even through your panties, the contact makes your breath hitch sharply. He strokes your folds through the fabric, the slight stimulation making you shudder already.

“You’re so wet for me baby.” He murmurs, fingers curling into the garment to move it to the side, “Is all this because of me?”

“Don’t be so fucking smug.” You retort, grabbing his shoulders for balance, “I just had you begging for me.” 

“And here you are, soaking wet just from sucking my dick.” He tilts his head, leaning in close enough to mutter right in your ear, “Do you really need me that bad?”

“No more than you need me.” Your fiery retort fizzles out into gasping embers on your tongue the moment his fingers slide between your bare folds.

“Hmm, what was that sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch that.” He hums, chuckling at your wanton moan before he keeps going. Even as he brushes over your clit with meandering strokes, he has you close to losing yourself completely. You arch your hips up into his touch as he rubs circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sound of your needy whimpers delights him, and he picks up the pace so he can hear more. 

Your head tilts back the moment his finger pushes past your entrance. By now your mind is beyond hazy with need, and the relief of finally feeling him inside you has you whining aloud. He thrusts slowly, the slide slickened by the gloss of your arousal. He adds another finger soon after, already feeling you open up for him. The slick friction within you has your mind racing and has a litany of breathy, curse ridden moans pouring from your lips. His thumb keeps rubbing circles over your clit, fueling the flames of pleasure that rage hot enough to burn. You grab onto his shoulders tighter, clutching the fabric of his hoodie for balance as your legs tremble. His fingers move with expert deftness, and you can’t help but whimper, “How the fuck are you so good at this?”

He smirks behind his mask, reaching that tender spot that has you gasping at the sudden surge of elevated pleasure, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

In truth he’s going off of innate conjecture, simply responding to the cues from your body and the wavering pitch of your voice, but it’s fun to tease you this way. He massages your sweet spot with come hither motions, further submerging you in bliss. Just to add to your ecstasy, he wields his knife with his other hand, cutting your shirt open before placing it right between your collarbone and the top of your breast. The blade slowly drags over your skin, the scape of pain sparking static flares of pleasure that have you clenching around his fingers. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out and arch up against the sharp edge of the blade just to feel more. He keeps going easily, wielding his knife with expert deftness, dragging the edge right over your racing heart. He makes you feel the intensity of the blade without breaching the skin, all while ravaging you with his fingers. The only thing that keeps you from writhing in his grasp is the threat of the knife piercing your flesh, the looming danger of which has adrenaline mixing with pleasure in the most delectable way.

If it wasn’t for that damn mask, you’d surely be moaning right against his lips and letting your tongue stroke his own. Your mind reels envisioning what he looks like beneath that mask, and it anchors you to this moment. Would his brows crease the longer he pleases you? Would his lips remain parted as he stares at you? Is his intense stare one of carnal hunger, amorous desire, or some combination of the two? 

As good as he’s making you feel, you want to feel even more. You want something bigger and thicker than just his fingers, something that connects you to him fully. Your back arches, pressing your chest right against his. Your body craves even more contact, even more sensation, even more of him. 

“Fuck me already.” You plead, earnest desire shining in your eyes, “Please, I want you to fuck me, now.”

Neither of you waste another moment. With his aid, you’re perched right against the generator, precariously balanced right on the edge of the jutting console. He grabs your hip and both of you moan aloud as he slides into you with ease. He eases his way all the way inside you, fully enveloping himself in your tight heat, groaning all the while at how good you feel around him. Rocking his hips, he starts to fuck you right against the generator, keeping the blade pressed against you all the while. 

The rustic engine creaks loudly and rocks with every thrust, but neither of you pay this any heed. All he’s focused on is how you’re practically sucking him in with every thrust, and all you can focus on is the feeling of being stretched out on his cock. He fucks you at a steady pace before gradually picking up speed, smoothly rolling and gyrating his hips to make you gasp out in pleasure. The knife provides the perfect press of pain to have you spiraling into a whirlwind of bliss. You both come apart easily, melting into each other, merged right at your thrusting hips as you grind against each other in search of sensation. Despite the pervasive frost, heat builds between you both intensely enough to have sweat beading on your brow. 

“So good.” He groans languidly, drawing out the syllables, the forehead of his mask pressed to yours, “You feel so fucking good baby, fuck.”

You clench around him at this, making him moan louder. You buck your hips to meet his thrusts, trying to get him even deeper, trying to feel him even more. Your mind blanks, your body absolutely alight with bliss, and you pant out moan after wanton moan. He shifts the angle ever so slightly, just enough to have him reaching another soft spot deep inside you. The action makes you keen aloud and tossing your head back, arms wrapping around his neck, “Fuck yes, right there! Right there, yes! Harder!”

Tossing his knife aside, he uses both hands to grasp your ass instead, pounding right against that spot. He pistons his hips, faster and faster as the moments pass, grunting in pleasure all the while. The head of his cock presses right against that tender spot over and over with each thrust, your breathing reduced to rasping puffs of air as you try to keep up. He rails you with reckless abandon, surges of pure euphoria coursing through you at a breakneck pace. You take it all in eagerly, greedily, grabbing him tighter so you don’t completely slip away. 

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s it.” He mutters, his voice lowered to a rough growl, “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. Can’t get enough of this pussy.”

Unbeknownst to you, a couple of the other people trapped in this trial sneak near the chalet in search of a generator. Their hearts begin racing being in such close proximity to the killer, but they inch closer nonetheless. They peek through one of the busted windows, only to see you getting railed right against the generator they need to power to escape, only to hear him groaning shamelessly about how good you feel while you let out choked cries of bliss. They scurry off in search of another generator, though even their loud footsteps can’t be heard over the cacophony of carnal decadence within.

Caution has been tossed to the winter wind. Right now, the circumstances that led you here; the trial and the looming evil that permeates this world, don’t fucking matter. All that matters is the profound pleasure you feel, the intensity of your close proximity, and the satisfaction that you finally have each other within your grasp. The coil of ecstacy curls tighter in your core with each passing moment, signifying your impending release. His pace starts to falter, hips stuttering, signifying that he’s right there with you chasing his high.

“Gonna cum baby.” He manages to breathe out between rough groans, grabbing onto you tighter to anchor himself, “Wanna feel you cum right on my cock.”

“Cum in me. Please I wanna feel you cum in me so fucking bad” Your plea sounds like a half delirious babble, but he hears you loud and clear.

A few more thrusts and he’s stilling against you with a drawn out groan, spurts of liquid release shooting deep inside you. Feeling his cock pulse with every spurt of cum has you careening over the edge of ecstasy. The infernos of euphoria sweep through your body in blazing waves that consume you whole, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you scream. You shudder and tighten around him in fluttering pulses through your orgasm as he works you through it, suspended right in the throes of pure, primal passion.

You pant heavily as you cum down, letting your hands slip from his shoulders down to either side of the generator. He likewise loosens his grip on your ass, though his hands still rest on the curve of your cheeks. You lean back and away from him, just to get a reprieve from the intense heat. The pervasive winter chill settles over you both, cooling you in just the right way.

Your query breaks the silence, “So, have I earned it?” 

“Earned what?” He questions, still somewhat out of breath.

“Getting to take your mask off.” You quirk a brow and chuckle, “Have you forgotten already?”

“In my defense, my mind has been occupied for the last little while.” He slyly replies, running his hand along your bare thigh, “Can’t imagine why.”

You huff out a laugh that brings with it a puff of cold air, “Yea that’s a real mystery.”

“But I’d say yes, you’ve earned it sweetheart.” Pushing back his hood, he reaches behind his head, undoing the fastening that keeps the mask in place. You straighten up attentively, eager to see him fully. Finally you’re getting what you’ve been waiting for. You can’t keep the smile off your face when you see him lower the mask and move it aside. The ceramic no longer conceals his face and oh…wow…

You assumed he would be hot. You hoped he would be hot, but the face staring back at you is nothing short of stunning perfection. You’re drawn right to his sharp eyes, so intense you can easily get lost in them. His smooth skin glows in the radiance of the firelight, the highpoints of his face reflecting the flickering gleam. Your line of sight roves over his thick black eyebrows, his raised cheekbones, his sharp jawline, and you’re left wondering how the hell someone can be this beautiful. He’s a living contradiction, with long hair gray as ashen snow framing a face that exudes youthful elegance. The personification of regal beauty stands just across from you, the kind of beauty that must be shielded from hellish landscapes like this one. Perhaps that’s why he wore the mask. You don’t know. All you know is that the bow shaped pout of his lips looks so soft, you want to pull him in for a kiss and never let up. 

Smug pride doesn’t begin to encapsulate what you feel when you realize that you’re the only one that gets to witness such beauty.

Your expression must be one of stunned bewilderment, because he comments on it with a bemused chuckle, “You can pick your jaw up off the floor, sweetheart. I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

You adamantly refute this with a shake of your head, “No, on the contrary. You look even better than I ever envisioned.”

“Am I really that hot?” He jests, huffing out a laugh.

“Better.” You tell him earnestly, “You look like royalty.”

You reach out to him, fitting your hand to the curve of his face. He lets you, and even leans into your touch ever so subtly, which has a giddy sense of glee blooming in your chest. The longer you stare, the more heat rises to the surface of your cheeks. You’ve seen his face, claimed your ultimate prize, and it’s even better than you could’ve imagined. All of this begs the question; what do you do now?

As far as you’re concerned, there’s only one thing to do.

A moment later, both of you close the distance with a series of searing kisses. Already you’re moaning into each other’s mouths as you savor the softness of each other’s lips. Already you’re grasping at each other as you try to get impossibly closer. You’ve been wanting to kiss each other the whole night, so now is your time to ravenously indulge.

Without breaking contact, he helps you off the generator, leading you over to the couches that line the conversation pit. He falls back onto one of the curved cushions of the couch, pulling you down with him by the hips. Your tongue slips past his lips and meets his, and he eagerly parts his lips to let you lick into his mouth. Your tongues come together with each kiss, sensually stroking each other, and you moan right into each other’s mouths. His hand comes up to the back of your neck to pull you closer, just as your own hand runs through his hair. You straddle his lap, letting yourself settle right on top of him as you continue to make out.

Now that he’s finally kissing you, he only wants you more. Your lips feel so fucking good against his, so soft and perfect, and he never wants to stop feeling you. Hearing your satisfied hums against his lips only adds to his delight. He wants to keep being your source of enjoyment, the reason for your sighs of content and your cries of ecstasy. He wants to keep exploring your beautiful body, to discover all the ways to make you feel good, to shield you from the harsh winter chill by kindling the fires of fervent desire. Most importantly, he wants to be the only one to do so. Fatigue from such intense sex is the only thing keeping him from acting on his desire to give you more. Besides, he quite enjoys languidly kissing you like this. It’s pleasant to say the least.

The apples of your cheeks simmer with the heat of infatuation, searing hotter as his thumb starts running over the curve of your face with every kiss. Your heart soars at the fond interest you feel emanating off of him, which is just as potent enough to match your own. You never want to leave his side, never want him to stop dousing you in such intimate affection. Pleasure was fun, but this is just as rewarding. Sharing kisses is just as satisfying as sharing orgasms, and now that you’ve done both with him, you’re over the moon with elation. Having the exact source of your obsession in your arms like this fills you with covetous joy, and you don’t plan on letting him go any time soon. 

The kisses you exchange get gentler and gentler until they come to a stop, that sensual softness building between you taken over by the pull of slumber. Before you know it, the only sounds in the room are the crackle of the flame, the ever present trill of the winter wind, and the soft sound of your breathing. The last thing you remember is resting on the rise and fall of his strong chest, and the soft warmth of his lips upon your cheek.

Beyond the bounds of your perception, the dark entity that reigns over this cursed domain feeds off your emotions, and thus lets you remain to indulge in each other for the time being.

*****

You don’t know how long you’ve been asleep. The endless night makes it so you can never tell how much time passes. It could’ve been a few hours, it could’ve been a matter of days. You have no way to know. The sky is just as dark and the snowfall is just as heavy as before, so it’s truly anyone’s guess as to how long you’ve been here.

You hear the telltale cry of agony and anguish as someone gets mounted on a distant hook. The bellowing, otherworldly snarl that follows tells you The Entity has come to claim yet another unlucky soul. Mild disappointment settles in your chest when you realize you missed a chance to watch him kill again. You suppose your time with him is over. 

You tug your clothes back in place, planning to depart through one of the gaping holes in the wall. Surely at least one of the exits is open now. Surely the others couldn't have been that incompetent. Time to survive yet another trial. That disappointment festers and permeates as you scan the walls in search of an opening in the worn wood. You don’t want to leave to face another killer that’s not him, especially now after you’ve just been so intimately entwined. You glumly ponder how long it might be before you get to see him again. 

Before you can make it away from the couch, he advances on you with a burst of speed. In the blink of an eye his body is pressed against yours, his arms are wrapped around you, and the edge of his knife is laid against your throat. He murmurs, low and rough in your ear, “Where do you think you’re going sweetheart?”

He’s still here! Fuck, this is the first time he managed to catch you off guard, and it’s even more thrilling than you ever imagined. That familiar match of arousal is stricken up your spine, prompting you to let out a soft moan. The cover of white in the corner of your eye tells you his mask is back on, that the latest unlucky victim didn’t have the privilege of seeing the beauty that’s concealed within. He’s fired up from a fresh kill, and your pulse pounds between the serrations on the back of his blade.

You shrug, though you settle into his arms, “Going back to The Campfire. Shouldn’t you be off to another realm by now?”

“That only happens if everyone here either dies or runs off, and as far as I can see, you still remain.” The frosted wisps of his breath tickle the side of your neck and drive a warm shiver through your body.

“Then hook me, or let me pass through the exit, so we can complete this trial.” You tell him, though your reluctance to continue that endless loop seeps through in your voice. After waiting for so long you finally got the chance to have him, and you’ll be damned if you let this go to waste. But the warmth of The Campfire calls, and the image of its flaming light flickers at the forefront of your mind.

Thankfully, he seems to have the same mindset, for he admits that, “As far as I’m concerned, the game’s not over yet. I’m having way too much fun playing with you baby, and I have a feeling you wanna keep playing with me too.”

He’s right. He’s so right. You waited so long for this, and there’s no way you want to stop now. The piercing frigidness of the blade against your neck contrasts the warmth of his body, and you want nothing more than to melt in his embrace. You want to keep feeling his touch all over you, for him to fully acquaint himself with your body, to give yourself to him completely. Now that you’ve seen his face, you want to feel his lips join the fray and grant you pleasure. Just thinking about it makes you ache for the possibilities.

Seeking to add to your desire, his other hand slowly trails down your side as he hums right in your ear, “Why go back out there in the cold, when I can keep you warm in here?”

His words sound rather intimate, warmed by the smooth, endearing lilt with which he spoke them. His query rolled off the tongue so naturally neither obscure the moment by questioning it. Heat brims right at the surface of your cheeks and your heart flutters rapidly. Both sensations are only intensified as he grasps right where your hip meets your leg, wordlessly requesting to keep going. You arch up against him and grant him access, letting your thighs part just enough for him to slip his hand in your pants between your legs. His fingers find your clit instantly and you whine at the sudden surge of pleasure, whimpering as he slowly strokes your sensitive bundle of nerves. He strokes you at a meandering pace, keeping his focus right in your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to have you moaning in his arms. Already his touch sets your body ablaze. Already you crave more of what he has to offer. Already you’re sinking into his touch. The press of the knife keeps your body tense enough to remain upright, because without it, you would’ve surely melted into the floor by now. 

“Besides, I can’t possibly let you go now.” He murmurs right in your ear, his voice sending pleasant shudders down your spine, “You’ve seen me without my mask. How do I know you won’t just reveal my identity to the next batch of victims?”

You halt his motions by grabbing his wrist for emphasis, turning your head just enough to smirk at him, “Because I want you all to myself.”

His eyes widen in shock, stunned again by your words alone. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. You’re just full of surprises. 

You surprise him yet again by turning around in his grasp, taking off his mask so quickly he barely has a chance to react. You fit your hand to the curve of his face as the blade rests against the curve of your neck, though there’s not a hint of fear in your voice when you speak, only avid affinity, “I’m the only one that got to see this stunning face. I don’t wanna share this with anyone else.”

You lean in closer, your face so close he can almost feel your mouth against his when you say, “I want to be the only one to ever see you like this, the only one to please you. I want my lips to be the only ones you’ll ever feel against yours. I want my embrace to be the only one you fall into. I want to be the only one you give yourself too. I want you to be mine, all mine.”

He stands there in shock, lips parted to speak but he’s stunned to silence. It’s like you reached into the deepest recesses of his mind to draw out his innermost desires, desires he didn’t even know were present until you brought them to the forefront. He’s never had someone so enamored he inspires such possessive infatuation, though to be fair he’s never afforded himself the chance. But he wants what you’re offering. He wants you to overtake him completely. He wants it so bad, and he didn’t even realize how much until you brought it out of him. He wants to be yours, just as he now wants you to be his. No one else should have you, and he doesn’t want to give himself to anyone else. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” He leans in, almost close enough for your lips to touch, “Make me yours, sweetheart.”

When your lips meet, an inferno of decadent desire blazes within you both. Your kisses are messy presses of lips, the slick slide only enticing you more. You grasp the hair on the back of his head, and his knife falls to the floor with a clatter, his hands finding purchase on your ass once again. You fall back onto the couch and pull him on top of you, just as he had done with you not long before. His thighs rest on either side of your hips, his tongue running over the swell of your bottom lip, requesting access to your mouth. You’re quick to pull him closer, grabbing his shoulders while you let your tongue mingle with his. Already, his hips are rolling against yours, grinding against you as he moans into your mouth.

He’s yours. No one else’s, just yours. An avaricious growl deepens your moans as you move your hands down, grabbing hold of the zipper of his hoodie. He nods, silently telling you to take it off. You make short work of the zipper before sliding the garment off his shoulders. He ardently reveals himself to you, and you move to do the same, sitting up to grab the hem of your shirt and tug it off. You discover he was only wearing a simple tank top beneath the hooded sweatshirt that leaves little to the imagination, and the sight of his muscular arms and toned chest has your breath hitching. 

“Oh wow…” He emits a low sound of awe at the sight of you without your shirt, his eyes instantly drawn to your breasts. 

“Like what you see?” You quip, tilting your head slyly.

“Love what I see.” Is his growled response. You feel his hums against your skin as he leans in and peppers kisses all over your chest, exploring the slope of your breasts with his eager mouth. You sigh in content and arch up against him, loving the soft warmth of his lips against your skin. It’s so easy to lose yourself to him, to let yourself go and let lust take over, to sit back and take in the sensations he gives you. He kisses his way down your body, his lips lingering at your belly as he unfastens your pants. He takes his time tracing the contour of your waist with his mouth, slowly making his way down to your hips, making pleasant rushes flutter through you. He eases your pants down your legs, and you lift your hips to aid the slide. He pauses once your panties are exposed, rubbing your clit with his thumb right through the fabric.

“You’re already so wet, baby.” He stares right at the wet spot in the center of your panties in awe, watching it get even wetter right before his eyes.

Instead of a snarky quip, you confess with a soft sigh and run your fingers through his hair, “You make me feel good.”

He peers up at you with an impish grin that has no right being as attractive as it is, “I bet I can make you feel even better.”

“And how would you do that?” You tilt your head curiously, though you already know the answer to your own question.

He curls his fingers in your panties, not taking them off just yet, wanting to tell you exactly what he means first, “Well, you did make me feel really good when you went down on me earlier. It’s only fair that I return the favor, right sweetheart?”

“Sounds fair to me. Go for it.” You nod emphatically, already clenching around nothing at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

Your approval spurs him on. He shucks your panties down in one smooth motion, kneeling on the floor before you. You turn and spread your thighs, and he’s quick to move between them, his tongue already making its way between your folds. The first drag of his tongue against your folds has you moaning aloud, head tipping back against the couch. He licks at you slowly, taking in the way you taste, letting the tip of his tongue flick your clit before he’s diving back in. His hands grip your thighs as he presses in deeper, his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue laps up the slick arousal seeping from your entrance.

“Fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?” He rasps out in bewilderment, and before you can answer, his lips latch right onto your sensitive bundle of your nerves. He suckles slowly, drawing out the pleasurable sensations and drawing languid moans from between your lips. You grab onto his hair, pulling it up and away from his face.

How he manages to look so pretty from this angle is beyond you. His full lashes fan out over his cheekbones in the most charmingly coquettish way. The high points on his face glow with a flickering golden amber hue from the fire. His eyes have deepened to a beautifully deep hue of hedonistic want, and when his eyes meet yours, your breath is drawn right from your lungs in a sharp hitch. He hums as he pleases you with his mouth, moving his head back and forth every so slightly, just to make you moan. His tongue runs right over the very tip of your clit, and sinuous sparks of sensual bliss shoot up your spine in surges.

He pauses once more to catch his breath, mouth agape as he stares up at you and earnestly says, “I can’t believe I waited so long to taste you. Fuck, you’re delicious.”

As much as his shameless raving about how good you taste makes you swoon, you feel that aching need for more radiating from your core. You grasp his hair, pressing his face right against your quivering folds, “Then why don’t you stop talking and make up for lost time?”

His eyes roll back before fluttering shut at your commanding tone, instantly obliging with an eager moan. He pulls you closer, tugging your hips to the edge of the couch so you can drape your legs over his shoulders. He increases the intensity, sucking and licking your clit with a fervor you haven’t yet seen. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you whine for more, your hips arching up against his face. Your nails dig into the couch and scrape along the cushion before you decide to grab onto his hair, tugging the strands of ashen silver for purchase. He grasps your hips with both hands, but makes no moves to stop you from fucking his face. The more incessantly you buck your hips, the faster he goes, determined to bring you to the edge. He moves down for a moment to trace your entrance with his tongue, making you squirm right against his tongue.

“Please, more. Fuck, give me more.” You pant, your thoughts too scrambled to form a coherent sentence, “Wanna keep feeling your tongue.”

He smirks up at you, seeming to understand exactly what you mean. Your eyes roll back before fluttering shut as you feel his tongue push inside you. The wet muscle fits to the contour of your inner walls, stimulating you from the inside. You whine louder, chest rising and falling rapidly as your mind begins to whirl. He licks up your arousal right from the source, hungrily feasting on your essence. He groans at the taste, sending vibrating thrums of titillation right through your core. You buck your hips up faster, all but fucking yourself with his tongue, and he lets you fuck his face with fervent enthusiasm. Pleasure courses through you in intense waves, your thighs trembling on either side of his head the longer you remain immersed in the sensations. Your pleasure quickly begins to mount, that coil in your core tightening with the tension and pleading for release.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimper, rocking your hips against his face as you chase your high, “Make me cum baby, please.”

He keeps fucking you with his tongue with a rough groan, the vibrations of which only intensify your pleasure. Bringing his hand towards the apex of your thighs, his thumb traces circles over your clit, driving closer to the edge. All it takes is a few circling strokes of his thumb and another few laps of his tongue before you’re coming completely undone. You cum right against his face, the wet heat of your release flowing right onto his tongue. He laps up your essence eagerly, greedily, taking everything your orgasm gives him. Your eyes squeeze shut as you ride out your high, rolling your hips against his face in time with each bout of ecstasy that rolls over you.

Your eyes meet as soon as you come down, and you’re instantly overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. He grins up at you, pressing kisses to your thigh that have your heart fluttering in your chest. His lips are completely slick with your release, glistening in the firelight, and his face is tinged with the prettiest pink hue from the exertion. His hair in complete disarray, the silver locks haphazardly strewn about and falling over his face. Even though he looks totally fucked out, he still manages to be so damn pretty, his visage elevating his fucked out appearance to paint the portrait of absolutely wrecked debauchery. You’re ready to move to your knees to return the favor, only to be stopped by a shake of his head, “I want you to fuck me.”

He takes his place on the couch right beside where you’re sitting, making quick work of his pants and underwear. He chucks them aside, revealing his fully hard cock. Your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip at the sight of precum beading at the tip, flowing down the length of his turgid flesh and glinting in the light.

“Did you get that turned on just from eating me out?” You return the jest from before, leaning closer to him. Instead of quipping back, he leans in too, capturing your lips with a searing kiss. Your lips meet in a messy lip lock that’s little more than a tangle of tongues, fully portraying your need for more. You shudder in arousal at the taste of yourself on his tongue and the slick softness of his lips.

Pulling away, he beckons you closer with a sultry stare and a hand stroking his cock, “C’mere and ride me, sweetheart.”

You don’t need to be told twice, especially not in the face of such a delectable display of desire. Straddling his lap, you’re quick to sink down onto his length, hands resting on his shoulders as you ease yourself down. You take him inch by inch, stretching around his girth, moaning all the while. 

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, so tight and wet.” He groans, grasping your hips to bring you all the way down onto his dick.

“Only for you baby.” You hum, grinding your hips once he’s bottomed out, “Only for you.”

A pink hue stains his cheeks at the pet name and you grin at the sight. Slowly, you start up a pace of moving up and down on his cock, making you both moan at the feeling. From this angle, his cock gives you exquisite pleasure in a new, impeccable way, brushing against a tender spot you didn’t even know was there. The head of his cock meets that spot every time you bring your hips down, making you shudder and squirm on his lap. His hands roam your body while you set the pace, rolling his hips up to meet yours in search of more friction. Tugging your bra out of the way, he fondles your breasts, his eyes transfixed on the way they move in his hands.

You gasp out a whine when his lips wrap around your nipple, relishing in the radiating warmth of his wet mouth, “Fuck, keep doing that baby. Keep fucking doing that.”

Nodding he keeps sucking on your nipple, letting his eyes slide shut as you pick up the pace. Your pleasure intensifies, making you bring your hips down harder as you chase another rapidly approaching orgasm. He matches your fervent desperation, his hips bucking up to meet yours at the same rapid pace. Your fingers run through the hair on the back of his head before grasping the strands right at the root, pressing his face in deeper. He whimpers out a deep moan at this, pulling back just to rasp before sucking on your other nipple, “Harder baby, fuck me harder.”

You bring your hips down harder in response to his plea, feeling him moan around your nipple. His hands roam your thighs before grasping your ass once more, holding onto you as he feels himself slipping away into bliss once more. You’re quick to follow him into that chase for ecstasy. It mirrors your chases with him across the arena of the trials, with him hot on your heels as you speed ahead. Only this time, the arousal from before is replaced with palpable pleasure that has your head spinning, that has your body rolling with every flare of bliss that’s ignited within you. This time you have each other in your grasp, with no plans to let each other go. This time, you sprint to your final goal of ecstasy as one, working in tandem to bring each other to the edge.

You breathe out that you’re about to cum, your hips stuttering every so slightly as the need for release overrides the attempt at coordinated movement. His thrusts are just as sloppy, simply focused on driving his cock deep inside you over and over again. He mumbles right between your breasts, pressing himself as close to you as he possibly can, “Cum for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel you cum on my cock so fucking bad, please.”

You bring your hips down one final time, crying out in bliss and arching against him. Feeling you clench around him in fluttering pulses has him falling into the abyss of euphoria with you, his release spilling into you in spurts of hot cum. He tosses his head back and you see the ecstasy that overtakes his gorgeous face, his lips falling open to let out cries of bliss. The flickering flames of ecstasy burn much hotter than the fire behind you, bombarding you with a hot white deluge of passion that rolls beneath the surface of your skin in cresting waves. You grind against him, driving the head of his cock against your tender spot, riding out your orgasm for as long as you possibly can.

As you both come down from the precipice of pleasure, your lips meet once more. Your kisses are softer this time, your mouths slotting together in barely there presses of lips as you try to catch your breath. You let your hands curl around the column of his neck and caress him, just as his arms wind around your waist and keep you close. For a while you bask in the warmth of the fire, and the warmth of the sentiment brewing between you. 

To say he’s ecstatic is an understatement. In a dull existence of endless trials to appease a dark entity, you’ve given him the perfect respite. You provided more than just stimulation, but true passion and excitement, something to actually get his blood pumping. He can’t believe that he was being pursued by someone as gorgeous as you all this time, and the realization has his face warming. Holding you in his arms like this, sharing in that post orgasm afterglow while you’re still connected in the most intimate way, is something of a dream come true. A smile lifts the corner of his lips, widening the longer he kisses you, and he’s sure you can feel his grin against your lips. He can see himself falling for you already, and he can feel an obsessive affinity beginning to brew. He already can’t envision being with anyone else like this, ever. Already, he feels like you’re the only one that he needs. Already, he wants to be the only one that you ever need. 

Little does he know that he already is.

As for you, you’re elated that you’ve managed to snag your own slice of heaven in this hellish world. Even though you’ve already fucked twice, you still can’t believe you finally got him all to yourself after what felt like endless pining. Basking in his undivided attention, his surprisingly gentle embrace, his curiously tender kisses where he smiles against your lips, is better than you could’ve ever hoped. What makes you even happier is that he seems to yearn for you as you yearn for him, that in all of this, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You can’t believe you’re intimately entangled with him, savoring the warmth of his body as you lean against the rise and fall of his chest. When you shift closer, and press your chest to his just right, you can feel that his heartbeat is in sync with yours. Just as it should be. Just as it should always be. 

There is just one glaring detail that’s missing.

“What are you thinking about?” He gently breaks the silence, his hand meandering over the small of your back in soft strokes.

“Honestly?” You huff out a laugh, “I realized something. I don’t know what to call you besides baby. You seemed to like that quite a bit.” 

“It’s Xiaojun.” He says, quietly enough to be hidden by the whistling howl of the wind.

You weren’t expecting him to open up so quickly, “What?” 

“My name. It’s Xiaojun.” He repeats without hesitation, quickly adding, “I’ve never told anyone that before, but if I’m yours, I figure you ought to know that.”

“And as much as I like calling you sweetheart, I wanna know your name as well. I want you to be mine just as much.” The very real feeling of his hands caressing your thighs is the only thing that tells you that you’re not presently dreaming. His request, as well as the grin that lifts his lips when he makes it, makes you dizzy with joy. He wants to know you too? He wants you to be his? You can hardly believe it, your mind reeling so much you have to steady yourself on his shoulders. You barely feel your own lips moving as you tell him your name, but the way his eyes brighten tells you that he must’ve heard you. He repeats it to himself, slowly, savoring the way the syllables melt sweetly over his tongue like candy. You smile knowing that he’ll be the only one to know something so personal about you, and you’re the only one who will ever know this detail about him. He really is yours. Xiaojun is really yours.

Up until now, The Entity has been feeding off of the lust and the affection brewing between you both. The Entity has let you be for what it has deemed to be long enough, and now it compels you to reset. That entity implants an image of The Campfire in your mind so intense it’s all you can focus on, making the familiar flame call to you with a shrill, piercing command to return. He sees you grimace, and instantly knows what’s going through your mind. 

“The Campfire calls?” He attempts to smile, though a touch of dismay crosses his features.

You sigh once the shrill sound quiets down, mirroring his expression, “The Campfire calls.”

You pull away from each other, gathering your clothes from where they’re strewn about on the couch and sliding them back on. The fabric of your shirt is split over right around your collarbone from where he cut into it earlier, and you smile at the reminder of your time together. Maybe next time, he’ll leave marks of lovebites and hickeys upon your skin. Now you have something to yearn for the next time you see him. You watch as he puts his clothes back on, your gaze lingering on his hands as he zips up his sweatshirt and puts the hood back on. 

He grabs his trademark mask from off the floor, but he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead he makes his way over to you, pressing a final kiss to your lips with a vow of, “I will see you again.”

You grab his hood and kiss him as well, whispering your own vow against his lips, “You better, or I’ll fight through The Fog myself to find you.” 

#the pup actually types #wayv smut #wayv xiaojun smut #wayv dejun smut #nct smut #nct xiaojun smut #nct dejun smut #xiaojun smut #dejun smut #yandere au #yandere nct #yandere wayv #yandere xiaojun #dbd!au

[thefoxtherapist]

Snowball Fight

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

tags: Susie(Legion) x gn!reader, just tooth rotting fluff!

You dove behind some broken pieces of wood, the pallets providing ample cover even as the cold bit into your cheeks from the wind. But it wasn’t just the wind and snow of Mount Ormond you needed protection from. A snowball whizzed by your head and you exhaled a soft laugh as you heard Susie call out.

“Stop hiding, coward!”

You poked your head over the pallets, looking around for the pink haired girl. You briefly saw a bright flash of her hair disappear behind a tree and you smirked, kneeling back down to gather some snow from the ground. You popped up once more, waiting for her to poke out from behind the tree.

Once she had, you threw the snowball at her, hitting her square in the chest. A soft ‘oof’ escaped the girl as she once more hid behind the tree. You bent down again, doing your best to quickly pack together another snowball. Before you could stand however, you heard the telltale crunch of snow under foot.

And then you were covered.

“Got you!”

Susie seemed proud of herself as you looked up at her, hair wet with the snow she’d dropped on your head from the other side of the pallets. You reeled your arm back, throwing the loosely packed snowball at her. She blinked several times, wiping her face on her hoodie sleeve.

You grinned when you saw her expression, the girl shaking her head at you, and soon, a laugh escaped her. She held her hand out over the broken wood and you took it, pulling yourself to your feet. Susie rounded the wood, her fingers interlacing with yours. “It’s cold.” You nodded towards the old abandoned lodge and she nodded, tugging you along.

Once inside, it took the girl little time to get the fire going, having done it a hundred times before for the others. She rested against the couch, shaking snow from her hair as you plopped on the seat beside her. “Are the others coming soon?” You questioned as you rested your head against her shoulder.

Susie hummed, pulling her pager from her pocket to check if she’d gotten any messages. But she shook her head, pocketing it once more. “I haven’t heard from them today.” She answered, pulling you back on the couch with her. You hummed, resting your head more on her chest instead.

The fire crackled before you, doing some to warm your cold skin. But it was her arm around you that brought the greatest sense of warmth. You closed your eyes momentarily, listening to the beat of her heart under your ear. Her fingers absentmindedly ran through your hair, an action soothing to her and you.

Some time passed and you could feel her gently rocking you awake. You blinked a couple of times, looking up at her face to see her looking down at you. “We should go back, you’re still freezing.” She smiled, rubbing her face against the top of your head affectionately.

“Ooh, wanna go back to my place and order pizza?”

“Mm.. Only if we can get pineapple.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, unable to help your smile. “For you?” You sighed dramatically and she lifted her head to look at you. “For you I suppose I will order the pineapple pizza..” And she broke out in a big smile, one she was unable to stifle even as she pressed several kisses all over your face.

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

[phonkscribes]

Dead Last.

You live by a code most would abandon in these circumstances, where death isn’t an escape and a nameless goddess hungers. It’s a rare trait to find amongst people, especially those that have died time and time again. When the gates are powered and you’re abandoned by your peers, you don’t think that anyone would notice. Let alone the people that put you in that spot.

Assorted killers reacting to an abandoned reader.

Legion / Frank Morrison

Legion is as thick as nails, nothing can get between them, even if things got rough. That much was true on that night in the store when they took turns killing that janitor. He’s disappointed to see that your ‘team’ won’t extend a hand to save one of their own like how the Legion would to him. Ace runs out the door, not even looking back as you lay on the cold floor of Ormond.

“I bet that hurts real bad”, he teases, putting a foot on your back to keep you from struggling.

He wants to hear what you’ll say in response, to see how you’ll beg or plead for your life. You’re whimpering, crying— he can see the steam rise from your cheeks. The pain he’s talking about isn’t physical, but you’re trying your best to hold it in. In some ways, he could feel for you, in others he could not. That’s just how things are around here. You stick your neck out for someone and then it gets you killed.

“That’s what happens when you try and play hero, dumbass”, he grabs you, hoisting you up and over his shoulder.

He has a quota to meet, a number to fill so that bitch in the sky doesn’t give him or any of his friends shit later. He doesn’t feel bad for putting you on the hook, watching as the claws sink into your sides as you die. Although he does feel… something. The next trial that you see him he doesn’t bother you so much, choosing to hit you while he’s in his frenzy before leaving to find the bigger fish. If Ace happens to be with you, he’s sure to tunnel him out.

It’s his way of being nice, hoping you don’t catch on when he does this one thing.

The Ghostface / Danny Johnson

You’d been running with Yun-Jin towards the gates as the timer ticked down. She’d been right at your side until she hadn’t. As you went to look over your shoulder he was right there. The ribbons on his hood billowed as he cut through the night, breaking his shroud as he tore into your side. You’d been exposed and you didn’t even notice, nor did the producer bother to tell you. As Danny wipes his blade he looks down at you pitifully, tutting I’m disappointment as your fellow survivor left you for dead.

“You should’ve seen your face”, he taunts, chuckling as you try and recover, “But that was fun”

You sit there, gasping for air as he squats down to pat your shoulder, which has a hook shaped hole through it. You cry out from the pain, but he coos, as if there was an adorable puppy before him and not your sweaty, bleeding body.

“Isn’t that tough?”, he picks you up and starts walking.

You’re sure you’re dead, not bothering to struggle as you sniffle. It tugs at his heartstrings, it really does. You’re lucky he thinks you’re so cute! Otherwise, he’d have killed you a lot sooner, which he probably should’ve done to that bitch Yun-Jin! He walks along, straining his ears as you try and not to cry at your defeat. The hatch is near as the two of you pick up on the sound of the angelic singing. The Ghostface sets you down just in front of it.

“Since I’m feeling generous… just this once, I’ll let you go”, hope starts to seep through that look of despair etched onto your features. It stirs something within him.

You start to crawl, pulling yourself forward as he thinks about shutting it in your face. How would you look if he stole away your only means of escape? Danny wants to see what that’d look like, the terror reinstalled in your eyes as you inch closer and closer.

“Th- Thank you..”, you tell him, looking up into the eyes of the mask.

Ah… next time. Definitely next time.

Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr.

He’d caught you by the shack, using his saw to cut through your middle as Dwight had made the mistake of throwing the pallet down to block your path. It was a mistake, he’d heard the saw and reacted when he saw the red stain. The look of regret is as plain as day as he runs, pain struck across his face as he leaves you behind. Max didn’t think much of survivors, but he could understand better than anyone what it felt like to be caught and punished rather than betrayed. He watched Fairfield leave as your blood spilled all across the wooden floorboards. The sounds of your panicked, frustrated breaths mixing with his labored growls filled the air.

So that’s it eh?

He looks down at you, waiting to see how you might react, if you’d yell or cry out. With the leader gone, it was just you left. If he put you on the hook, you’d die, as simple as that. He moves, stepping over your body to break the pallet. The wood splinters as it falls, collecting besides you as he goes to pick you up. It’s not uncommon, he’s seen it happen before a thousand times but it’s always so… he doesn’t know the words to place it. You didn’t deserve that, he reasons. Max carries you off to the gate where he saw the scratch marks fade off to.

He’s says something, tries to at least, but is unable to. It comes out as a small grunt, as he picks you up. You wonder why he’s being so nice. Usually he’s so intent on getting people off the farm and into the next match. You pat his back, a quiet thank you as he gently drops you off on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, revving up his chainsaw to carry him off to go close the hatch if he can find it.

He thinks you’re cool, like a hero from one of his shows. You’re too kind to kill, too brave, too good. He’d have felt better about doing it if you were a scum bag.

Pig / Amanda Young

You tried your best to keep everyone alive, but no amount of heals or pallets can prevent the inevitable. It’s not that they didn’t try. All of you try, fighting to stay alive in the face of cruelty, but alas. The reverse bear traps didn’t find them to be agreeable. Either your friends fell victim to the saw trap or to the blade of Miss Amanda Young. You’re the only one who managed to get the trap off in time, so by Amanda’a standards, you’ve earned your life. That didn’t stop you from trying to save your friends from their graves.

At the end, she meets you in her workshop, eyeing you curiously. There was no favoritism, no second chances aside from the one you got. They all had every opportunity to survive and failed. Watching you now, she feels a shred of sympathy. A few years ago, she was the same just like you, eyes wide and afraid of dying. You’ve earned your life, proven by the lack of a trap on your head. She beckons you to follow her, as she already knows a way out.

“Don’t think too hard about it”, she says, noting your apprehension to follow her like a good survivor.

She’s indifferent for the most part, with the slightest hint of being proud of you. You may not be disciple worthy, but you held quite a bit of promise in her eyes. Should you ever turn to the dark side, she’d love to mentor you. You jump through the hatch as she waves goodbye, silent as she studies the expression on your face as you depart.

Shape / Michael Myers

You were the obsession this trial, and as much as he would’ve loved to kill you just then and there, he knew it’d serve him better to let you go. There were so many times where he could’ve just offed you had he felt like it. Though evil personified had other plans, such as dealing with the gnats flying around you. They really were just flies, swarming you when they needed help, when their wounds couldn’t be staunched caused by his knife. Picking them off one by one wasn’t hard, with how quickly he was able to catch up to them as they worked hard to complete their tasks. He reveled in the way that you watched their bodies hit the floor. You were next.

You were next and there was nothing you could do to stop it. As the last survivor, he was more than eager to track you down, playing the same game he played with his little sister. He stalked you through the halls of his childhood home, you sprinted up the stairs and towards the window, but he was faster. The shape was content with the way your throat fit in his hand when he held you up and pinned you to the wall. You slammed back quite nicely, your grunt of pain being drowned out by a scream.

The wet squelch of your guts wet his hand, your blood dripping down from the hilt and making the handle sticky. He didn’t mind, didn’t seem to care as he watched you with interest. Your death seemed to fascinate him almost as he pushed it deeper into your struggling body. He set you down when you were done, finally done with this trial. Somehow… he liked it. The way you squirmed, how you didn’t quite accept it as it was happening. He’ll be sure to save you for last the next time he sees you.

#phonk scribes #dbd x reader #dead by daylight & reader #dbd & reader #gender neutral reader #dead by daylight imagines #tw: gore #tw: violence #canon typical violence #tw: death #reader dies #hurt #frank morrison #danny johnson #max thompson jr #amanda young #michael myers #the shape dbd #the legion dbd #the pig dbd #the hillbilly dbd #[ like a crazy amount of hurt ] #[ had this in the drafts for a hot second ] #[ kinda want to write more Frank ] #[ pls request Frank ]

[lily-avenue]

Musings on Gold Digger (2019)

** Warning contains major spoilers **

** Also warning: massively long-winded ramble **

Julia Ormond, Ben Barnes and an exploration of a may-december romance in the midst of complicated famillial dynamics and an underlying unease.

Both leads are very good. We see Julia Day (Julia Ormond) reclaim herself as she moves out of the roles to which she has been assigned, or perhaps more accurately, has assigned herself; while Benjamin Greene (Ben Barnes) treads the fine line of someone who is not entirely what he seems to be, and who in pursuing the path he has chosen, is moving both closer to, and further away, from what he needs. We all, or many of us at least, want to be known and loved for who we actually are.

The supporting cast are uniformly excellent, with each episode putting the spotlight on one of Julia's now-adult kids (Patrick, Della and Leo), her ex-husband (Ted), her ex-best-friend (Marsha), and her new lover.

The series poses a range of complex, thorny questions, such as what it means to take a much younger (or much older) lover; the immediate and long-term aftermath of domestic violence; the loss of confidence and trust following betrayal; the ripple effect of those pivotal moments that each of us have in our lives; and the small (and large) lies that we tell ourselves and each other.

Nearly everyone in Julia's life is openly and vocally "concerned" when she introduces the much younger Benjamin into her life, and the series also explores the cost of pursuing your own happiness in the face of others' disapproval.

For the most part, the two sons (Patrick and Leo) are Not Very Nice. While they are not necessarily unjustified in their concerns about Benjamin, and are each grappling with the fallout of their parents' shared history, how they act upon those concerns is rather unpleasant. (And slighly nonsensical. Patrick is a well-heeled lawyer, surely he would have hired a private investigater to do some digging?) Della, her daughter, is the most open of the three to their mother's new relationship. And while for the most part that isn't saying much, Della's growing acceptance and support of Julia's right to be her own person and the strength she demonstrates in doing so, make for a lovely subplot - particularly as it starts to positively impact her own life.

While the series asks a lot of questions, it doesn't necessarily answer them in a way that fully satisfies. We see Benjamin and Julia's attraction in numerous sex scenes, and it is fabulous to move from the early scenes, in which she turns off the light, to later scenes in which she has pushed aside some of her insecurities. But we don't see enough of their intellectual attraction, of the non-physical side of things, and of how they navigate the fact that in terms of cultural milieu, he has far more in common with her children than with her (sort of, that too is complicated). There are some lovely glimpses - the book of walks he gives her as a gift, for example, rather than ubiquitous and offensively-generic flowers. But their growing closeness is mostly given in montages of them walking around holding hands in various locales - we are rarely privvy to the intimate discussions that would show a deepening relationship.

Much goes unquestioned by Julia, which given her intelligence and life experience seems somewhat implausible, although perhaps newly discovered and unexpected love can make fools of us all? Her lack of curiosity about Benjamin's past, which clearly continues to affect him, or his financial situation (mid 30s, professional job, but about to be hounded by bailiffs?) is hand-waved away at one point. This is one of those instances where I cannot tell if it suboptimal writing (maintaining suspense at the cost of characterisation) or very clever writing (Julia tends to avoid conflict; her reluctance to ask questions to which she doesn't necessarily want to know the answer has precedence). Herein lies the dilemma of suspense-based drama: in keeping Benjamin an relatively unknown quality we lose the opportunity to get to know him and Julia as a couple, and that becomes problematic later on.

We experience Julia's growth as she takes responsibility for her own destiny, eventually starting to question what it is that Benjamin isn't telling her, and taking the necessary steps to find out more. And when she finds out more, and it is rather confronting, she still chooses to listen before coming to her own conclusions. But we don't see the same for Benjamin. His journey is more opaque, and because we only get very few snippits of his life before Julia, is largely for the viewer to infer, or only becomes evident after the fact. He wants to run away when things start to close in on him, but he doesn't. Ultimately his hand is forced and he breaks a long-held agreement with his brother to put his own needs first. (There is a small subplot about an engagement that didn't happen; a former girlfriend broke up with him the day he proposed, and one wonders if it was because he also told her the truth about his past.)

There are interesting contrasts between Benjamin and Ted. Both are outwardly well put together, but neither are what they seem. Ted is successful, wealthy and enmeshed in entitled middleclass-ness, while Benjamin is not, despite his facade of the urbane younger man.

But the outward trappings hide the fact that Ted is controlling and violent, while Benjamin - despite what the criminal justice system would say - is neither. And that contrast is backed up by the scene with Ted in the forest on the morning of the wedding, compared with that with Benjamin on the beach (in which Julia asks him to not touch her, and he listens and respects her wishes instantly). Even throughout the argument with his newly re-emerged brother Kieran, which escalates into low-level violence, Benjamin only ever reacts, never instigates.

And it would be entirely remiss of me not to mention Marsha, who has made her own bed, unfortunately with Ted in it. We meet Marsha just as she is beginning to realise the extent of the poor bargain she's made, and it really only gets worse.

I am still not sure whether the series simply had very high expectations of the viewer, or whether the script spread itself too thin and undercut itself. The distrust and deception that flows throughout the series was almost catching, and in the face of it I wanted stronger closure, a deeper resolution of the issues that came to light late in the piece. In the absence of that, Kieran's words after the fight with Benjamin resonate just a little too strongly for me. Are they actually in love with one another, or are they in love with what the other represents to them?

Is Benjamin a gold digger? Not, I think, in the traditional sense of the term. He sees in Julia an embodiment of the life he wants to have, but had always been excluded from. My take is that the attraction and burgeoning love is real, but that it is also inseparable from her aura of wealth, education and intellect, which are an integral part of who she is and how she moves through the world.

He was certainly not honest with her, and that also poses an interesting question about how much of our ourselves, and our actions, we can mask, ignore or conceal before sliding into deception or disaster. Alongside Benjamin editing his past to hide a terrible act (in which he played a supporting role but shouldered much of the consequences), we have a younger Julia peddling the fiction that all was well with her (first) marriage, Ted hiding his violent streak, Patrick having an affair, Leo knowing about Ted and Marsha but not telling his mother. The list goes on.

The lingering disquiet of how much of Benjamin is a performance, and how much is real, never quite leaves. We do see sharper edges to him at times, which are in keeping with what is revealed about his past (you couldn't come out of young offenders unscathed, and you certainly wouldn't get through it without developing some pretty decent survival mechanisms), although Julia herself is not privvy to them. It is in the rawness and desperation of a couple of his reactions that a measure of confirmation is provided that his feelings towards Julia are genuine. There is a two-fold element of unreliable narration with Benjamin, yet it feels not entirely unreasonable to conclude that Benjamin the construct is underpinned by a longstanding and deep-seated need, and has largely become Benjamin the actual. But how recent was this process, and was it a legitimate one? We don't ever really find out, and that matters when it comes to our central conundrum.

But as may have become evident throughout this long-winded ramble, one of my own personal failings is that I like my fictional endings to be happy, and unambiguously so. I want Julia to enjoy her 'after', just as much as I want Benjamin to revel in the safety and belonging she provides. So holding onto a suitable measure of optimism (or perhaps of wishful thinking - our characters may not be alone in their penchant for self-deception), let us now return to their wedding reception and one of my favourite scenes. Watching a truly beguiling Julia invite Benjamin to dance, and an utterly charming Benjamin follow her onto the dance floor, made me smile. A lot. And with that in mind I am going to find myself a glass of champagne, ensure my best smile is firmly in place, and head out onto the dance floor to wish the two of them my very best.

#gold digger #gold digger 2019 #julia ormond #ben barnes #will I still agree with most of this on a rewatch? Who knows. #gold digger series #julia day #benjamin greene #long-winded ramble because there can be no other type

[consanguinitatum]

Trivia Night: the Takin' Over The Asylum Edition

So after finishing up with my previous post on a never-before revealed DT project during his drama school years, I went back through some of my old Twitter threads to see if there were any I missed posting here. I found quite a few of them, so I figured over the course of the next few weeks I ought to go ahead and post the rest of them here, too! Tonight we'll talk about a fan favorite -- Takin' Over The Asylum.

A month or so back, I was collating some theatre reviews and other tidbits about years which don't fit into my podcast years of c1987-c1992, and I ran across a few things of interest.

The first thing of interest was that Takin' Over The Asylum was rebroadcast on BBC2 in the summer of 1996. I'd always been under the impression it had only run in its entirety in 1994.

See?

from the Sutton Coldfield Observer · Friday, July 12, 1996

Did you know the series also ran in Canada in March of 1997, and in the US in October 2000 on BBC America?

That's cool enough, but it was the other thing which really piqued my interest. It was something really weird.

Did you know there were once plans to remake Takin' Over The Asylum into a major Hollywood movie? Well, I sure didn't! But it certainly appears to be true. By late October 1997, MGM Studios announced they had purchased the rights to make the film. They renamed it Fool On The Hill and plans were made for filming to begin in April of 1998. In this interesting interview in early 1998, David talked about the possible film. He said he would have played Campbell again "like a shot" if they'd offered it to him, and he thought if they did it right, it "could be a fantastic movie." But he wasn't considered.

So who WAS rumored to be cast? Oh, boy. Jim Carrey as Ready Eddie. Julia Ormond was being considered as Francine. .......and, um....Kevin Spacey as....um....who knows?

I say "who knows" because - in true Hollywood style - they started messing with the script. They rewrote it and rewrote it, moving it to an American setting. In this version, the main character remained fairly true to the original, as he was a window and aluminum siding salesman. However, in this rewrite, he isn't our familiar has-been radio DJ, but merely has a passion for radio. This fellow somehow discovers a defunct radio station in a small town mental institution and starts his own broadcasts, in the process "transforming the lives of the institution’s patients as well as those of the town’s more ordinary residents."

These rewrites apparently took so much time they caused delays in the filming schedule, so they ended up unable to start filming in April 1998. And by the time it was ready, Carrey wasn't available. So it sat on a desk.

Now if you'll recall, I mentioned David had been interviewed about the possible movie project in 1998. At that time, David said Campbell had been rewritten as a "black kid from the ghetto" (THEIR words, not mine). And - of course - David said he was not that character.

In 2001 - when they announced Spacey's possible casting - it appears the script must have been rewritten even more. Because here's the thing. In the 2001 version of the script, Spacey was supposed to be "a hospital administration officer who befriends the new 'inmate' in a bid to bring laughter to his patients." Which isn't at all what David has said in the 1998 interview.

To be fair, all of these descriptions are a bit unclear to me. They don't name the character who Spacey was supposed to play. So if Spacey was supposed to be hospital administration, was he a new character in addition to whoever played Campbell, or was Spacey supposed to replace Campbell? If the former, so be it....but if it was the latter I give out a hearty WTF and a double helping of ewwwww. That means Campbell's character had either been written out of the script or had been relegated to a less important role. And can you imagine any version of Takin' Over The Asylum without Campbell? Luckily all of this became a moot point because due to a myriad of issues the the film never got made. My personal opinion is THANK THE HEAVENS. It would've been a disaster, right? An absolute stinker. Because the only proper Takin' Over The Asylum is our Takin' Over The Asylum. With Campbell! Also, you all do know that Takin' Over The Asylum's original working title was Making Waves, right? It sure was! When I interviewed David Blair, the director of Takin' Over The Asylum, he told me so. Here's more proof:

I should point out the filming dates listed in the first blurb aren't completely correct. While I've no idea when filming started, Mr. Blair's given me a photo of the clapperboard for the last day of filming (which I won't publish, as he hasn't given his permission.) The clapperboard reads 29 October 1993.

Anyway, it's really cool that - even after years of doing research, it's fun and ridiculous and remarkable to learn things that are news to me. It's one of the most exciting things about doing this research!

#DavidTennant #TakinOverTheAsylum #MakingWaves

[ceceliaahathaway]

@johnnparsons Event: An Art Auction and Larceny. Dated: 6th of April, 2024 Location: Sotheby's London, Mayfair.

She was in the middle of Mediterranean. She had her feet outstretched in front of her, a martini in hand, and Adam by her side. Everything was perfect. She leaned in, lips meeting Adam's for a quick kiss. She smiled against his mouth. Life was good. Oh, OH.. was that a tongue? She pulled back ready to chastise him, because that was for the bedroom not some Mediterranean cruise, in front of Daniel Craig... wait a second. That wasn't Adam's tongue..

She woke up to THIS and screamed!

Breathless, her hands stretched out to either side, she observed as her morning horror show sauntered back out of the bedroom, on the hunt for more Prada bags to remodel. Perhaps you once thought that gold shoulder strap was a necessity, but you were mistaken. Exhaling in defeat, she grasped her laptop and placed it on her lap. She had research to resume.

The blonde might've been in the midst of a separation, but Cecelia Hathaway was at stage five denial. She wasn't going to cry, beg, or bargain her way back into her husband's life, because to her.. she was still very much inside of it. Which is why she'd decided to call Adam's favourite charity, Great Ormond Street Children's hospital, to organise a donation. What of? Art, of course.

Her eyes settled on the piece that she had her heart set on. Was it to her usual taste? Oh, Christ, no. But this wasn't about her. This was about children. Children who were hurt and sick and wanted nothing more that to look up at their blank clinical walls and instead see a delightful Teddy Bear. Yes, this was definitely the one.

***

How delightfully, whimsy he was. She stood in front of the painting that she'd finally selected, noting down its number and placement in the upcoming auction. The price wasn't much of an issue, as she intended it to be a tax write-off, but it remained reasonable nonetheless. As she glanced around, her eyes appreciatively taking in the others who shared her passion for art on this weekend outing, her gaze suddenly fell upon him. What the hell was he doing here? She didn't take him as man who appreciated antiquities. She barely took him as man. More so a troglodyte. "Do you realize this is an art auction, not a date auction, right? I don't think they're holding another one of those until next year."

Navigating around him, she couldn't help but feel exasperated; he seemed to be occupying an excessive amount of space. She still had other pieces to peruse before the auction commenced—oh, well, too late now. Making her way over to the chairs, she noticed them beginning to fill up around her. And quite quickly too. If she wasn't careful she was going to-- Oh, thank god. At least there was one seat between them both. Sitting down, Cece cast her head forward, waiting for her prized picture to make its appearance.

"And now, we have lot number two.." They always presented the least valuable ones first. "We're asking for opening bids of $1000 pounds." She grabbed up her paddle, placing it high in the air, "$1000 pounds, here." That picture was hers.

#communicating via story #with jonathan parsons

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Ah fuck it, I’ll post the technically other part to Blighted

This is after the reader has met with Danny who has been blighted, they are filled with a rage for the man responsible for Danny’s condition...

Warnings: It’s DBD...Idk what to tell ya, but if there’s soemthing specific y’alls want feel free to tell me ^^ 

(Also, this is basically what could turn into a potential Ghostface x Reader x Blight thing [tho he would be more of the antagonist here]. But it all really depends on whether people are interested or not)

Revolution was an act quite frowned upon.

Perhaps, frowned upon was the incorrect term. Revolution was feared.

The being that fed on that very emotion…it now knew what it felt like.

It had been the third match of the day, at least your third match. You thanked the Entity for giving you even just a few moments with Danny, his suffering having returned. That you sure as hell weren’t thankful for, learning that his blighted treatment was temporary, but he was always brought back to receive more and more doses.

You had spawned in a new lobby, quite upset over the fact that your snuggling with Danny had been interrupted. You could only imagine how he looked, all alone on the firepit cushions of Mount Ormond’s resort, wondering where it was you had gone.

Not wanting to think of Danny’s puppy-eyed look, you examined your surroundings before you were soon accompanied by the nervous wreck, Dwight. The two of you were then joined by Jake and Nancy, not sharing any words between each other as they readied themselves for the upcoming trial.

You, however…a sensation came over you…a feeling of determination. 

Looking into the distance, you furrowed your eyebrows as if you were glaring into the face of your next executioner. Your instinct filled you with a sense of dread, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you squeezed your fists. 

It was almost as if…the void of a darkness far from you stared back with a predatory leer.

Your heart pounded in your chest, hands now gripping onto the inside of your jacket’s pockets once you had stuffed the inside. And before you knew it, your hands no longer felt tight but instead empty. Every part of you felt light as the Entity was sending you to your grave.

After being engulfed by the Entity’s darkness, drops of rain fell onto the softness of your cheeks and nose. Fluttering your eyes open as the sound of rain hitting the soil rang through your ears, you scanned the realm you had been summoned to.

Before you were trees of great heights, and beyond those was a tall, stone structure you could only recognize as the Temple that was formerly home to the Plague.

Thankfully, you had spawned nowhere near the killer and instead found yourself making your way towards Nancy who had ever so briefly greeted you. 

“There’s a generator from where I came from, over by the stone structure.” she mentioned while pointing behind her. “You coming?”

“I think I’m gonna go check the one inside the temple first.” you turned your attention to the mentioned building. “Something tells me the killer’s going to keep an eye on it in the meantime. Better to finish it now than later.”

“Good point.” Nancy nodded, soon enough parting ways and reuniting with Jake who had surprised the two of you.

So now, you made your way through the trees before finding yourself in front of the temple’s entrance. You walked through the columns while turning to every side, making sure that the killer was not at a distance where they could see you. There was no feeling of a shiver down your spine, so you could mark off every stealth killer that could have been stalking you from afar.

Continuing on your way, you opted to not walk down the steps and into the lighted center, but you instead made your way around to where the golden tablet was displayed. To your surprise, a chest was seated right at the foot of the Sumerian glyphs.

Taking one more look around, you kneeled down and took hold of the rusted padlock before forcibly wiggling it. In the process, you were hit with concern, as if someone had just been struck.  Trying to ignore the feeling, you continued attempting to open the chest and before you knew it, your heart beat started to go a bit fast.

Your opening became faster, more desperate as your heart’s pace quickened even more. You could now feel it in your ears and throat, having to gulp to drown some of the feeling away.

But then…you heard a disgusting screech that was followed by Dwight’s cry of pain.

It was him.

You knew that Dwight had been downed just outside of the temple, right at the very entrance where your body was in place sight beneath the lighting provided by the temple.

Hands became sweaty as you stared down at the unlocked chest, trembling as you grabbed the lid and loudly opened it. Looking inside, you found a toolbox, this somehow giving you a rise of adrenaline.

You felt a chill go down your spine, causing your entire body now to quiver. You knew the killer was aware of your presence, just as you knew that he was now intent on pulling you away from that chest.

Feigning obliviousness, you reached into the chest to grab the toolbox’s handle while hearing demonic shrieks echoing behind you. The sounds were louder from your right where you caught a flash of orange in the corner of your eye.

Orange goo splattered all over the stone wall, right before the maker of this residue directed his attention to you.

Gripping on as tightly as possible to the toolbox’s handle, you removed yourself from the chest and stood up, all the while staring into the crate’s emptiness.

A hiss now sounded much, much closer, and as if on instinct, you swung the tool box to the right. Immediately, the metal collided with the creature that had rushed towards you, the impact creating another echo in the building before a thump was heard.

Looking to that side, you managed to crack the knuckles of your right hand from squeezing the box’s handle extremely hard. On the ground, you found the one and only alchemist you came to hate.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” you spoke, glaring down at the Blight who almost had a look of shock on what were left of his features.  “I’ve really been meaning to talk to you Grimes.”

Of course, no words came from the creature who got onto his feet as soon as possible. He could only stare ahead at you from the distance you had created, gripping onto his cane quite angrily. The Blight wasn’t one who thought of himself highly, but the disbelief he felt over the audacity of a mere survivor fighting back was incredible.

He decided not to think much of it, instead focusing on just getting the sacrifice over it. So, he gave another one of his terrifying shrieks before rushing over to your direction. However, it brought an even greater shock to the creature when you not only made a U-turn and avoided his attack, but you kicked him in the back.

The Blight found himself on the cold floor of the temple, holding himself on his hands and knees while still clutching onto his cane. He turned his attention to the entrance of the temple, looking straight into the astonished expressions belonging to your teammates.

His orange eyes now darted to your form that loomed over him at the top of the temple, almost unafraid.

Unafraid to challenge he who even the most sadistic killer in the Entity’s realm feared.

He heard your shoes thump against the floor after you had jumped from that height, toolbox still in hand. He read your features, noticing the bloodlust written all over them.

No matter. The Blight stood up once again, directing a hiss your way before he stumbled on over with the stick in the air.

You had not expected him to strike the cane as low as possible, actually intending on pulling your ankle with the handle rather than hitting you like the other times. Now it was your turn to slam onto your back, wincing at the pain before lifting your tool box in a swift motion, having blocked the Blight’s actual attack.

Every move you did further agitated him, especially when you kicked upwards and at his crotch.

You had the Blight staggering backwards, having to take a moment to regain himself. That was not enough time to ready himself for your next attack, having been struck by your tool box to his face once again.

And again.

And again.

Your mind had been clouded with rage, thinking about all that Danny had to endure ever since he had his dose of Grimes’ serum.

You hadn’t even realized that your fellow survivors had been shouting your name, none of them sure of what was to be done in such a situation. If anything, they had never seen something like it happen.

To your dismay, the Blight had enough of curling up and taking each and every one of your blows. When you were winding up for another hit, he lifted his cane to block your attack.

To his dismay, you had used the toolbox to hit away his cane that flew to the side. Despite his shock, the Blight manually shoved you away and now attempted to use his claws against you.

Somehow, he had not been able to land a single attack on you, instead being thrown onto the ground once again. 

Once he had come to his senses, he searched for your figure that had disappeared for a moment. But, fortunate for him, he was able to react quickly when he came face to face with his own weapon, now being wielded in your hands. As powerful as he was, he could not manage to tear the cane away from your death grip nor could he push you away again.

Even in such a vulnerable moment, he had to admire that determination of yours.

You grabbed onto the cane with both of your hands, intending on pushing it towards him to press it against what could be considered his throat. But then, you were finally pulled away.

Yes, pulled away.

Not shoved by the Blight nor pulled by any of the survivors, but pulled by an invisible force that pinned you to the ground.

Before anyone was able to act, you gave pained cough.

You were in the air, hands shaking as you looked down at your chest that you now realized had been impaled.

The other survivors turned away from the sight, not wanting to see your body be mangled by the Entity’s claws that for some reason had come out this early into a trial. They only looked again when they could tell a light shone down and disposed of your disintegrated corpse, never expecting to have the same treatment to occur to them right after that.

In the end, there was only the Blight who finally got the chance to stand up and dust himself. He found his cane, examining the area before a whisper came to his ears.

The Entity was displeased. 

Displeased that a mere survivor revolted against the Blight. Displeased that three others witnessed it. Displeased that such an idea of hope was now planted into their minds.

The Blight was given a warning, but not one he cared much for.

No.

He had other things that he was now…fascinated with.

His free hand reached down to grab one of the many syringes he carried around with him, admiring the orange liquid that glistened beneath the temple’s light.

Oh how he wondered…curious to see the beautiful sight that was your heart pumping the serum through those veins of yours. How that anger from a survivor could become a new project. A mere survivor no more…he was almost obsessed now with how you stood up against him and beat him to the ground.

Talbot Grimes had a new obsession.

#dbd #dbd ghostface #dbd blight #ghostface x reader #danny Johnson x reader #dbd danny johnson #dbd talbot grimes #blight x reader #talbot grimes x reader

[deadbydangit]

Hii! I've sent in requests before and I hope it's okay to send more. ^^

How about a survivor who was made into a killer by the entity after they were rejected by the other survivors? Could be because they were too nice and sympathetic with the killers, or they saw them as not good enough. S/o is pretty deppressed after the transformation and is scared to approach the killers since they're afraid of rejection.

This with maybe Ghostface, Legion (Any member is fine!), Leon, Huntress, and Wraith? You can remove any or add any if you'd like!! Thank you! ❤

Absolutely. You're so sweet. Requests help this blog stay afloat .I hope I don't disappoint. I had to think a bit more about this one.

With a depressed Reader who was a survivor but was turned into a killer.

Ghostface, Legion (Joey), Leon, Huntress, Wraith

Ghostface

Sick! Fresh meat!

The more killers the better.

But you're still afraid of him.

Not like he can kill you anymore.

Then again, he could see the other survivors treating you like shit.

He remembered you in trials.

You actually apologized for hitting him with a pallet.

He still killed you, but was less intense about it than he would other survivors.

You were rejected by the other survivors.

So maybe you're afraid of being rejected by the killers too?

Danny"s not great at the feely nice stuff.

But he'll get Sally to explain it to him.

Once it makes enough sense, he'll be approaching you.

He makes sure you know he's there. No sneaking.

He'll even stand back if it makes you calmer.

He may be kind of an ass, but killers stay united.

Slowly but surely he's going to build your trust and confidence.

He's going to teach you the basics.

Those survivors are going to regret messing with you.

Then he's going to have these gross mushy feelings about you.

Yeah, Sally's going to have to help him again.

You two make a great duo.

God help any survivors that were partially nasty to you.

Legion (Joey)

If you don't have a place to stay, Ormond is open.

You're a killer now. You don't have to worry.

Killers are family. You don't hurt family.

You don't seem to understand that yet.

It was Susie who first noticed how hesitant you were to approach.

The others soon realized why; the survivors were jerks to you.

Probably because you were so nice to the killers.

While Frank and Julie didn't seem to care, it was Joey who stepped up.

He never felt like he fit in anywhere.

He felt sympathy for your situation.

It took him a while to approach you.

Lots of peace offerings: snacks and sodas were what he thought was appropriate.

He's trying.

After talking for a few hours, lots of tears and demolishing all the snacks, you finally could place your trust in someone.

He then realized how alike you both were. How he wanted you to be by his side.

He always has his arm around you. You're important to him.

"Was it that survivor who shoved you? Want me to gut them?"

And he will. Because he loves you that much.

Leon S Kennedy

Leon was the only one who didn't reject you.

He could never do that to someone as kind and peaceful as you.

But you're gone now.

At least, that's what he thought.

Seeing you in a trial as a killer!

No, it couldn't have been you.

"(S/O) is... Is that you?"

It is!

He's overjoyed to see you alive.

But seeing what you've been turned into.

It breaks his heart.

In the middle of that trial, he's going to throw his arms around you.

You won't even have time to hide or run from him.

A few little sobs will echo in his voice.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry I didn't help you more."

It wasn't fair! None of this was!

He wouldn't outright harm any of the other survivors.

But... Maybe he'll mess up the generator by "accident" and lead the killer over.

Maybe run a little slower to unhook.

You may be a killer now, but that isn't going to stop him from loving you.

He doesn't care what the others say. He loves you.

Huntress

Oh, you were that really nice survivor.

The one who stayed by her when she was hit in the head.

She wasn't hurt, but you wanted to make sure she was okay.

The other survivors used you as a shield.

It took her a moment to realize it was you.

So you were on their side now.

That's wonderful! She never liked having to hunt you down.

But you don't seem happy.

She doesn't really understand why someone wouldn't want to change sides when others were so cruel to you.

Until she realized that you weren't afraid of killing, you were afraid of rejection.

If that's the case, don't worry.

Anna will make you feel welcome.

She is going to kidnap you and bring you into her hut.

Food, shelter, safety. You can absolutely stay with her.

Don't be afraid. You're a killer now.

Your kindness as a survivor was remembered.

Now prepared to be dotted on and loved by someone who really cares.

Wraith

You. You're the survivor who still saw the human in him.

You treated him like a person when no one else did.

After a particularly bad trial, you stayed behind to comfort him.

Even taking a dive and dying for him.

You're a killer now.

He was relieved to see that you weren't thrown into the void.

And your kindness to the survivors?

Unnoticed. Disgusting. They treated you worse than trash.

How dare they!

He treated those who hurt you the most callously and more brutally.

He knows the pain of betrayal. How lost he felt when someone he trusted betrayed him.

He won't let you go through that alone.

He can't speak anymore, so finding a way to reach you was hard.

In order to make an impression, he handed you his little bell.

The bell his father gave Philip to ring when he was afraid and needed help.

You didn't quite understand until you rang the bell and he gently took hold of your hands.

You'd be safe. You'd be welcome.

He wasn't going to let you be afraid. He'll always be close by.

[daughterofyeshuaa]

Idk if you still accept requests. Some Julie Kostenko x Shy Fem Reader fluff? And some play-fighting and playful teasing scenarios as well! :3

Julie is so bbg omgosh 🥺

Julie Kostenko x Shy! Fem reader

It was a normal day in Ormond. Nothing particularly interesting happened.

Anyways, you were cold that day and wanted nothing more than body heat of another. You decided to pick up your phone and contact your best friend, Julie. The phone dialed and seconds later, the phone picked up.

"Ah! H-hey Julie" you play with the wire of the phone "I was wondering if you'd like to come over?"

You heard a chuckle from the other side "Sure thing, I'm on my way"

She hung up not too long after and you waited--

A knock came at the door. You jolt up and make your way over to the door. There she stood, with a small smirk on her face.

"Hey"

"H.. Hey" you smiled nervously.

"Are you gonna let me in?" she chuckled.

"Ah! Yes sorry" you stepped aside and let her in.

TIMESKIP

You and Julie were watching a movie. A sex scene came on and soon things got awkward for you. You looked away, turning red from embarrassment.

You were tackled out of nowhere and a finger poked your cheek. She was now on top of you, brushing your hair aside "You look so adorable when you blush, Y/N"

She smirked as you turned your head away in embarrassment "What? Can't handle being teased?" she chuckled.

"J-Julie I..."

"Hm?"

"... Nothing"

She smiled, latching herself to your body and both of you roll off the bed.

The rest of the night was spent cuddling and play fighting, occasionally teasing being thrown around.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd #dead by daylight #julie kostenko #julie Kostenko x reader #Legion x reader