#dbd asks

[darkest-before-dawnclan]

Mistypaw what were your parents like

[letternotekisses]

Ik I'm late, but I'm back on my dbd nonsense for the first time in literal years, and uh. Yeah. Anything with the Trapper and a survivor that perhaps was around in his time period or something would be appreciated. Perhaps doing very... improper things to her with those big hands of his, pretty please? (Am not caught up on the franchise at all, the last killer i remember being announced and knowing about was the French lady with her brother hanging off her chest)

*ೃ༄ CONTENT WARNING: Non-consensual touching. Blood & gore mentions. Purity culture, I think? Size difference. Reader is implied to be a virgin. Unedited. Please let me know if I missed a tag! ღ

You don't know where you are.

One moment you were convinced you had died, the next you were engulfed in a cloud of thick, choking smog. Emerging relatively unscathed, and in a place that seemed to be some kind of foundry. Your gloves become smeared with dust and grime rather quickly once your hands graze the weathered metal. Wherever you were, it seemed abandoned.

Or so you thought, once an ear-splitting shriek ripped into the quiet.

Despite your best interests, you find yourself running towards the noise. Desperate for answers, desperate for help, desperate to help, it was all too overwhelming for you not to chase your only possible chance out of here.

You see a flash of auburn, the head of an athletic woman wearing some rather outlandish clothing. But she doesn't stop to greet you, shoulder checking you by accident as she sprinted past. She doesn't even look back at you, even as you stare confusedly at her retreating form.

That was odd. But then again, your heart felt as if it were beating a mile a minute. You wondered if she was just like you. Afraid, alone...perhaps she'd tire herself out and you'd find her again. Or perhaps that was just her now, breathing heavily down your neck and--

What?

You don't get to turn around, because he does it for you.

A hand encircles your wrist, a grip so strong and crushing that you can't help but stagger, your heels fighting to keep you standing as he drags you along the marbled mesh of moss and dirt. His fingers smear your gloves in muck and blood, blending the smell into the fancy new perfume your father had bought you. Carnation and vanilla, splattered with gore.

You stare up at a gnarled mask, horrified as he peels away the glove to inhale the scent straight from your skin. A muffled groan sounding from beneath the wooden snarl as his thumb circles over your palm, smudging what you hoped is mud into your hand.

You wouldn't recognise Evan. Not now.

But he recognised you. Oh yes, he did.

Still exactly the same as he remembered, trussed up like a fancy show pony for your father to parade around. All silk gloves and evening gowns, Evan had always ducked his gaze when your father visited the works and brought you along. You were too pretty, too shiny. Your father would never have allowed it.

But your father's not here, is he?

In fact, nobody is. All the other little survivors are off elbow deep in gears to try and escape him. None of them had time to break you in.

But lucky for you, Evan does.

He has all the time in the world for you, the girl who got away. Not so much of a girl anymore, though, and he's unashamed in the way his eyes rake down your form, drinking you in like a man fresh from a desert trek. His head follows, and you let out a noise that snaps his attention right back to your pretty face.

Soft, fearful. You purse your lips tight almost immediately after, and well, he doesn't blame you. You do know the reason why a mutt would love a squeaky toy, don't you?

Evan bunches his hand into the hem of your dress. Staining it, ruining that façade of prissy you put up around your family to hide the fact you were planning to run away with a boy who spent his time hiding down in the mines. You don't fight his grasp, and he'd liked to have believed that you remembered him.

After what happened, you must have forgotten all about him. Your memory buried deep along with the lives of several men down in that dark, damp shaft. He'd outgrown his old overalls so quickly, and you might just have recognised him without the shoddy stitchwork piecing him back together. Without the blood coating him to his elbows.

"Please," You whisper, voice wavering as the thick mass of his fingers probe at the stockings beneath your dress. "Why am I here?"

Evan pauses, wondering if he should humour you as he rips the fabric from your skin. White tatters sinking into the mud on the floor.

"For me." He settles, voice gravelly from underuse. A hot groan bouncing off the inside of his mask once he meets warm flesh.

Alive. Writhing under the meat of his hands and not just because he was about to string you up to bleed.

"I don't even know you." You sob, meek and quiet as he pushes you against rock, slate scraping your back and tearing the pristine fur of your coat. Your father's gift.

Whoever he was, he was much too big to fight off. His hands parting your thighs as if he was your lover. A husband. But you felt no indent of a ring in your flesh when he came to cup your cunt through your underwear. The chastising of your mother ringing aloud in your ears as heat licked at your neck.

"You will." He rumbles, tearing through the pure, embellished lace. "You will."

[ask-renato-lyra]

still deciphering the narrative significance of "renato can run faster and for longer than star track runner and longtime athlete megan 'meg' 'meghead' thomas but only to avoid a social conflict" but i'm sure it has some

[ask-william-birkin-dbd]

👤 Jake Park

- a walk in the “Park”

"Jake Parrrk..." William mumbles, not quite recognizing the name immediately. "Wait, he's..." William's mind goes back to a Trial from what seemed like less than a week ago. Even though time was weird here, he still felt like he could keep track, even if he could only use vague descriptors. In this Trial, he noticed the crows were more quiet than usual, and occasionally heard the sound of a hook being sabotaged.

"He's... trrroublesome." William sighed. "... But the crrrows seem to like him... and... not many Survivors know how to brrreak the hooks... like he does."

[asktheshade]

He knows this is not Michael, smells similar to him and has a similar mask yes but not him. The god gives Laurie a few sniffs before giving her masked cheek a lick, somewhat curious.

Laurie was stunned for a few minutes... was she.. just.. licked??? First of all, what the hell just licked her? Second of all, who just licked her? And finally, why did it lick her?

She looked at him and tilted her head. Unsure on to stab them or not

[drama-by-daylight]

Sorry to ask again but

rank these davids doing a gen.

Asks are always appreciated, even if they're from the same person.

Anyway-

1. Automatically goes to the shirtless David. Like, I hate him as a character but come on. Even I have to admit he's fine.

2. Goes to the David on the right.

3. Goes to the David on the left because he looks like a Default David even though he probably isn't.

[trashy-slashy]

hiya, can I get some Deathslinger x reader nsfw where he catches her stealing alcohol from the saloon and decides to teach her a lesson? like some dubcon/noncon. thanks, i'm just really thirsting for the cowboy 👀

You know what they say, save a horse ride a cowboy 🥴

Caleb QuinnxFem!Reader

NSFW/DubCon Warning

The forest surrounding the campfire was ominous, fog rolling in from every direction. Traversing the terrain was exhausting, but the camp needed supplies. You hoped to stumble upon Autohaven, picking up parts for trials, but the entity’s realm refused to make your life easier.

After wandering for God knows how long, you were greeted by warm light, the heat and humidity choking after the bitter cold of the woods. You groaned at the sight of the Old Dawg Saloon. There wasn’t going to be anything useful here. Despite your preconceptions, you snuck around the perimeter, keeping watch for any sign of this realms resident.

Caleb watched you creeping around the outskirts of the buildings from the top of the saloon. His redeemer sat in pieces on the table, the cowboy using his free time to keep it in working order. Survivors fascinated him, the torment they live through day in, day out, only growing wiser to the killers strategies. Feeling particularly benevolent, he went back to his work. There was a few toolboxes laying around for you to loot, but nothing of actual value.

A toolbox and a few lenses, was that it? You had checked the whole area, save for the large centre building. “Of course that would be where all the good stuff is” you scoffed under your breath. The Deathslinger’s presence seemed to be missing however, surely he would’ve intervened by now otherwise. The floorboards creaked obnoxiously under your feet as you climbed the stairs. He had damned well not be here.

You kicked yourself. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Your belly ached at the sight of rows and rows of bottles. Whiskeys, rums among other a multitude of other spirits. Seemed like a surefire way to get on everyone’s good side. Grinning like a teenager you crept behind the bar, lifting one of the bottle from the wall. Throwing a quick glance to check for company, you unscrewed the cap, letting the liquid fall onto your tongue. It burned your throat, settling in your belly like fire. Delicious.

Caleb heard you come inside. He didn’t however expect you to start helping yourself to his stash of booze. His teeth ground together, brows furrowing in anger. The cowboy slipped out of the side room, watching from the banister. Disrespectful little... Surprisingly lithe, Caleb vaulted over the wooden barrier, landing at the end of the bar. You screamed, taken by surprise, trying to scrabble over the counter to freedom.

“No ya don’t” The Deathslinger seethed, closing the distance between you with one stride, his elbow slamming into your back, pinning you to the wooden surface. “Get off me!” You thrashed against him pointlessly, the killers strength far surpassing anything a meek survivor had. “So you can steal from me again?” He spat, tutting at the bottles strewn over the floor. “Take your trinkets ‘n’ shit but this is mine” Caleb splayed a hand across your shoulders, drinking in the sight of you bent over, completely at his mercy.

You waited with baited breath, unable to move under the cowboys grip. He chuckled darkly, shifting his grip, fingers digging into your sides. Hot breath grazed your neck, his weight pressing against you. “How would you like it if I took somethin’ of yours without askin’?” He drawled, a shiver breaking down your spine. You tried to squirm away from him again, crying out pointlessly for help. Caleb ground into your ass, his cock half-hard, growling into your ear. You kicked out at your assailant, yelping when you were rewarded with a hard smack to your upper thigh.

“Fuck you.” He grinned, slipping his hands under your shirt, tugging your bra down. Caleb palmed at your breasts, ghosting his tongue over the shell of your ear. His thumbs swiped over your nipples, the buds perking under his attention. “You survivors have no respect.” The cowboy pinched and twisted a nipple, relishing the wails that broke from your throat. “Someone’s gotta teach you some manners” Your mouth tasted of iron from where you’d been biting your lip, trying and failing to ignore the jolts of arousal his touch gave you. Fuck if the man wasn’t good with his fingers.

You whimpered involuntarily when his fingers left your shirt, Caleb’s eyebrow raising in response. “Looks like I caught myself a lil’ whore” The southern drawl drained all your blood south, your negelected sex throbbing painfully. The cowboy tugged down your pants, squeezing at the bare globes of flesh. A digit traced the inside of your thigh, your heart hammering against your chest. “If you want me to touch you darlin’ you’re gonna have to apologise.” Caleb kept his touches teasing, milimetres from your soaked cunt. You shook your head defiantly, earning a second swift slap from the cowboys hand. Your knees quivered, tiny mewls leaving your lips. “I’d reconsider.”

“Please.” You whispered, hissing through your teeth as he spanked you again, your ass burning red. Caleb tutted, squeezing the sore flesh, tears pricking in your eyes. “That’s not what I asked for, is it?” “I’m sorry!” You whined, rocking your hips towards him. The Deathslinger hummed appreciatively, grinding his palm against your slit. “What are you sorry for?” “I’m sorry for, ah...” A digit slipped into you mid-sentence, relief and pleasure short-circuiting your brain. A swift slap brought you back to reality, the mixture of stinging skin and Caleb’s finger stroking your insides making it hard to think. “I’m sorry for stealing.” You moaned lewdly as he pushed in another finger, curling them at the knuckle, pressing against you deliciously.

“Good girl.” Caleb’s breathing was ragged as he watched you come undone beneath him. “But... I don’t think you mean it.” He smacked you again, your legs giving way underneath you. “You’re just a whore.” Smack. “You fuckin’ disgust me.” Smack. “I’m sorry, please, I am!” Tears streaked down your cheeks, your ass burning painfully. “Prove it.” Caleb sneered, pulling you off the counter, discarding you to the floor. “Kneel.”

The cowboy freed his cock, winding his fingers in your hair. Meeting his gaze, you licked your lips, pulling back the skin to drag your tongue over the head, salty precum lingering on your tongue. He wasn’t in the mood to be teased it seemed, his grip pulling you closer, insisting you to open your mouth. Caleb’s jaw clenched as he slid past your lips, letting you accommodate as much of him as possible. He grunted when you hollowed out your cheeks, bobbing eagerly along his shaft. It didn’t seem he had much in the way of self control, his hips jerking into your throat, leaving you gagging around his cock. “Good girl.” He praised, his grip tightening when you swiped your tongue over the underside of his member. Caleb growled, letting you continue your ministrations for a few moments before pulling out of your mouth, saliva smeared over your lips.

He tugged at your hair, scooping you up to sit you on the bar, not giving you a moment before sinking inside of you, smirking as you threw your head back, cries of pleasure leaving your lips. Your cunt throbbed around his cock, Caleb firmly gripping your thighs, keeping you in place whilst he pistoned into you. Your nails dug into the counter, gouging out small chunks of wood. The cowboy snarled possessively, eyes flicking between your face and watching his cock disappear inside of you. “Harder, please....” You begged quietly. Caleb didn’t think, hooking your legs over his shoulders, each thrust reminding you of the raw flesh of your ass. The new angle allowed him to hit the sweet spot inside of you, stars flashing in front of your eyes. Caleb was panting, his pace erratic as he got closer, releasing your ankle to rub your clit. You screamed as you came, tightening walls sending the cowboy over the edge, hot cum pumping inside of you.

Caleb gave you a devilish smirk, his cock softening inside of you. “I think you learnt ya lesson.” You nodded pathetically, completely spent. “I suppose you could take one or two bottles seeing as you asked so nicely.” He laughed at his own joke, leaning over to graze your ear with his teeth. “As long as you keep my cum inside that pretty little cunt of yours.”

[lesbianlyonelb]

I was daydreaming and it was great. The 'dream' I had was Frank and Danny, respectively, as dads, but single dads during the trials. And the reason they work so hard in trials, is for their baby. They don't trust the entity to not pick on their baby if they do a half assed job. Especially Danny since he has no one to come back to after a trial. So why not make him come home to a child? The first thing he sees when he comes back is a little, toothless, gummy smile. And all of his worries slip away at the sight of his behbeh.

Frank has people to go back to, but recently I've enjoyed giving him a child in my hcs lol. Sometimes it's to give him some normalcy. Like the big bad killer has to act like this to make sure he can keep his baby safe from harm whether or not he's there, because that's his world in that tiny little body, and he'll demolish anyone who tries to take that away from him. That baby is his little safe haven. And the rest of the legion are lowkey the aunts and uncle to said baby. (I'm weak for innocent baby protected by big meanies😠)

Other times I just like bullying him and putting him with a crying baby, and him feeling like he's going insane because of the constant crying lol.

And Danny because who on earth's name would suspect a single journalist dad as Ghostface? And how could Ghostface of all people be a dad? Impossible. Legit nobody would expect that and Danny would take advantage of that like the little mischievous shit he is 😂 because that shit is a great cover in the real world tbh "where were you last night at 11pm?" "I was with my feverish, teething baby. You wanna ask her?"

Anyway due to my girls rambling, now I'm obsessed with characters being a parent while in the entity's realm 😔 because she be giving me thots that stick in my head. ...And I haven't actually seen that in fics yet, so its extra intriguing

I have way too much time on my hands tbh.

Listen, The Entity 100% sees children as fair game. Also, like. Danny would probably have to have someone watch the kid while he wasn’t there. Not because of the Entity, but uuhhhhhhh.... you know, reboot Freddy is also there

He’d still have to worry with OG!Freddy, but it wouldn’t be as pressing lbr. Still pressing absolutely, but in a different way you feel?

Also Huntress? Because of her habit of kidnapping kids, that could also be a problem. I don’t think she’d want to give the kid back willingly sghkfhgkd

Ugh but imagine that both Danny and Frank have kids, so they kind of trade off depending on how things are going. Because Frank would get it since he’s in a similar situation. Danny would probably have to make the trade-off of teaching the Legion some things, but it would be worth it to keep the kid safe.

I’m going to go out on a little bit of a limb here. Adiris would also be a good person to watch the kids. 

Here’s my reasoning: even though the temple isn’t a Christian one, I feel like the idea of sanctuary applies to any sort of religious place. I mean, I don’t know enough about Babylonian culture. She was left on the steps of the Temple of Purgation, so I feel like it carries. And like Adiris would be a bad high priestess if she didn’t take care of a kid that was entrusted to her at her temple, yeah? Also, like. Even though the Temple of Purgation is in the Entity’s realm, I feel like there would have to be some sort of... I’m not sure if protection is the right word? Maybe it would be something that Adiris imbued it with because it’s from her mind, but I feel like it might be a “safe” place. Like obviously not during a trial but  outside of a trial I feel like it would have to be

That could just be me, though