This will be my first time asking someone for something...I'm a little nervous. Also I love what you wrote about Frank, they really made my day!! Can I make a request regarding dbd killers? (You can make any killer you want.) Especially Frank 🏃♂️
It's going to be a bit classic but how would they be with a s/o who is addicted touching. For example,with a s/o who suddenly opens their shoulders and starts kissing their bare skin until she get tired. But if they refuse and stop the reader, with a s/o who gets offended by them and opens her own shoulder and starts kissing it.
(I have a cousin who has this habit and it's pretty funny. Anyway you can add Nsfw if you want, I'll leave that up to you 🏃♂️✨)
Character: Frank Morrison/Legion, Ji-Woon Hak/The Trickster, Albert Wesker/The Mastermind, Danny Johnson/The Ghost Face and Sally Smithson/The Nurse
A/n: Thank you so much for the request and even though it took forever (I'm very sorry 😭) I very much enjoyed writing this and I hope you also enjoy reading <3.
I included a little but nothing explicit smut and it's after the ~~~~~~~
Frank Morrison / The Legion
Frank never really understood why you loved slipping his hoodie off at the end of a hard day just to kiss his bare shoulder so tenderly, but at some point it started just feeling... right.
The first few times he might have instinctively flinched, not used to someone being so gentle with him. But seeing the way your face softened every time you pressed your lips to his skin made his chest ache but in like a good way.
If he ever stops you, either because he's feeling overwhelmed or simply teasing you, Frank would let his hand rest on your arm, pulling you closer.
And then, to your surprise, his lips would find your shoulder instead, pressing a bit of a clumsy but very heartfelt kiss there.
"...There," he’d mumble under his breath, almost shy. "Fair’s fair, right?"
The more you do it, the more he craves it without realizing it himself. Waiting for your kisses at the end of the day and feeling pissed off when you don't do it.
The moment your lips ghost across his shoulder, Frank’s patience wears thin.
His breath hitches as you kiss him again, hands teasing beneath his hoodie. That’s all it takes for his hunger to awaken.
If you dare to continue, he’ll grab your hips, pulling you flush against him with a growl. "You really like doing that, don’t you?"
He shifts your shirt down your own shoulder now, lips on your shoulder with a rough, heated kiss that lingers a bit too long.
His hands roam further as your breathing quickens, and soon enough, you're both tangled, shirts discarded, and all that from one simple kiss.
Ji-Woon Hak / The Trickster
Ji-Woon laps up your attention like honey. Your fingers slipping off his jacket, your lips dragging along his shoulder, it's pure adoration, and he loves every second.
He usually lets you do as you please, basking in the feeling of being worshiped.
But occasionally, just to toy with you, he’ll stop you, grasping your wrists with that much too attractive grin of his.
Instead of leaving you hanging, though, Ji-Woon would lean in close, brushing his lips against your shoulder with deliberate slowness.
"Why should you have all the fun, hm?" he purrs, voice like silk.
He loves making you feel just as weak for him as you make him feel for you.
Every touch you give him feeds his ego, but also ignites something primal in him.
When you trace his shoulder with kisses, Ji-Woon watches you with lidded eyes, his hand already slipping lower on your body.
Sometimes he’ll stop your teasing fingers, smirking before guiding your shirt off your shoulders and returning the favor with hot, wet kisses that leave your skin tingling.
"Such devotion," he hums against your skin. "You deserve to be worshiped too."
Before long, you're both stripped bare, his lips traveling lower, his voice purring sweet filth against your ear as he claims you.
Albert Wesker / The Mastermind
Wesker always watches you with those sharp eyes as you tug his coat from his shoulders and begin planting soft kisses along his skin.
Sometimes, though, his clothing proves annoyingly stubborn, the layers, the tight fit and then you find yourself getting a little frustrated trying to get them off properly.
He watches your struggle with amusement in his eyes, lips twitching ever so slightly at your determination.
After a few moments, with a low chuckle, Wesker steps in, quickly opening up your clothes, peeling the fabric away to grant you full access (at least when he is in the mood to do so).
He pretends to tolerate it at first, letting you think you’re in control, but deep down, your tenderness actual shakes up his careful composure.
If you get too bold, he’ll stop you with a firm hand on your wrist, holding you still as his gaze darkens.
But instead of fully denying you, Wesker leans in, his lips brushing against your shoulder with precision, leaving a heated mark.
"If anyone will indulge in such affections" his voice is dangerously low, "it will be me."
Your kisses are a dangerous game with Wesker ,one you always lose, deliciously so.
As your lips work along his shoulder, he watches you like prey, stopping you with a firm hand just as you begin to crave more.
"Enough," he commands, but only so he can slide your own shirt from your shoulders slow and calculated.
His lips descend onto your exposed shoulder, teeth scraping lightly as he whispers in your ear. "You forget who’s in control here."
And from there, he dismantles you, piece by piece, kiss by kiss, until you're breathless under his total dominance.
Danny Johnson / The Ghost Face
You slipping behind Danny, easing his robe down and tracing your lips over his shoulder? It's the kind of intimacy he secretly craves.
He’d chuckle under his breath, pretending to be unaffected, but his breathing always betrays him.
If he ever stops you, just for the little thrill of watching your reaction, he doesn’t leave you wanting for long.
With a sly grin, he cups your face, shifts your shirt aside, and plants a playful kiss on your shoulder.
"You’re not the only one who can do a little skin to skin" he whispers, eyes almost sparkling.
Danny always makes sure your games end with him holding the upper hand, or at least, making you feel like he does.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your touches always stir something dark in Danny, a wicked possessiveness.
When you start kissing along his shoulder, he smirks, then halts your hands for a moment, just to flip the script.
Tugging your shirt aside, he sinks his teeth gently into your shoulder, marking you with a satisfied hum.
"Didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?"
His touches grow rougher, his hands slipping under fabric, fingers roaming freely as clothing falls to the floor, leaving you completely vulnerable to his attention.
Sally Smithson / The Nurse
Sally is delicate. She trembles slightly as you pull down her robe and lay soft, reverent kisses on her shoulder.
Your touch is one of the few sensations that brings her back from the fog of her torment.
Sometimes, though, the vulnerability overwhelms her, and she gently halts your hand, unsure how much she can handle.
But seeing your soft eyes waiting patiently encourages her.
Slowly over time, she gathers courage, and with slightly shaky hands, brushes your shoulder free of fabric, pressing a feather-light kiss there.
"I... I want to give you the same," she whispers, her voice quiet but sincere.
With you, Sally is learning how to give affection as much as she receives it.
⇢ Pairing: Amanda + Meg Thomas
(background GhostMeg & platonic GhostPig)
⇢ Length: Oneshot
⇢ Synopsis: Amanda's perspective of Danny and Meg's relationship, trapped in a trial with both.
⇢ A/N: Amanda isn't in the 2v8 (yet) but I think I'd be terrified more than enough if she was.
A reminder that a “+” signifies a non-romantic pairing (typically platonic but I’m not certain these two are even at that level yet)
Amanda sees her before she does. It’s a given, considering she’s the predator, trapped in an arena with her prey.
She stills where she’s crouched in the foliage, waiting to lunge at one of the survivors, too distracted to notice her as they run past. Her flare of bright, red hair is the first giveaway. Danny’s gushed about it more times than she cares to count, and she’s practically sick of the sentence “luscious red locks” even without having ever seen them. (More than once she’s considered shaving them off if it would only get Danny to SHUT UP-)
Two braids fly behind her head, lightly smacking her on her shoulders as she whips her head around in every direction, eyes narrowed, ears straining as she cautiously pads. Not quite a walk but not a run either. Gathering her strength, saving it for a boost when she’s startled and needs to bolt.
Amanda tilts her head, squints her eyes. Now she can see the never-ending comparisons to a red hare that Danny loves to make. The constant glances in every direction, the footsteps, angled and poised, ready to bolt at the slightest rustle. She can practically make out a pair of lopsided bunny ears on top of her head, twitching in every direction with the way she keeps a keen eye out.
The other giveaway is the mismatched hair ties holding both of her braids; one a dark brown color that nearly blends in with her hair, the other a shock of bright, teal blue. A glaring constant to the rest of her clothes, and a wonderful pop against the red strands of her hair. She doesn’t need to ask to know which ones is her usual style, not with the way Danny had practically skipped into the Ormond Resort after he’d returned from a trial weeks ago, fresh blood splatters darkening his clothes from a round well done; spinning a hair tie on his finger with too much delight and giddy excitement for the man’s usual energy.
She’d sighed and finally placed down the knife she’d been sharpening when his almost giggling had started to give her a headache, rubbing the wrong way on every nerve she had left as she monotonously asked where he’d got it.
The bastard had grinned back at her, mask long since taken off and leaned in close. Close enough for his breathe to waft over her face as Amanda grimaced. He tilted back out of her personal space before she could shove him- or maybe even stab him- and given her a cheeky grin.
“Secret,” he’d winked, annoyingly, pressing the hair tie fondly to the corner of his mouth.
Amanda had held back an irritated sigh (if only to not delight him with how much of an effect he had on her) and returned to sharpening her knife, imagining how it’d look if she jabbed it into his eye and twisted. (Not that that’d bring much relief when he’d come back alive and well, thanks to the favoritism of the Entity, no point in it if he didn’t stay dead.)
She shifted closer, careful to avoid any rustling branches as she readjusted her hold on her knife. She couldn’t kill her, despite how much more annoying Ghostface had gotten since his budding obsession over her, but she could certainly have her fun. Even knew how to kill two birds with one stone and save the rest of the survivors for herself with no clashing competition. No giddy killer to splay himself over her back afterwards to brag about the kills he’d stolen from her.
She pulled into herself, inhaled, quiet, quiet so they never heard her- and lunged. Typically the move would catch one of the survivors off guard, lucky to only escape with a knife wound and panic thrumming under their skin, tripping over themselves fearfully. The redhead was faster, wide eyes snapping to her pig mask before she bolted, feet slamming against the dirt only a moment before Amanda’s knife cut the air where she’d been, bloodthirsty and locked onto her.
She growled, pivoting on her feet to keep her momentum as she missed, lurching after the redhead sprinting away from her. She had to give it to her, the girl knew how to run, dodging at every last moment, ducking behind a pallet before the pig could strike.
But she wasn’t quite good enough. Not when there were two killers in the match, not when Amanda had a plan.
She doesn’t see him, too focused on glancing back at her, ensuring the steady distance, searching for another route to try to shake her off. But Amanda does, has since the hunt started, since she nudged her in the direction.
Meg didn’t notice the root until her foot snagged in it, yelping as she went flying, arms pinwheeling as she desperately tried to keep her balance. It’s a losing fight against gravity with her momentum however, and she certainly would’ve been eating dirt had a pair of dark, gloved hands not lashed out to catch her, yanking her upwards to collide with a broad chest instead, stepping backwards to catch her energy.
Amanda slows her pace, snorting as she places her hands on her hips and catches her breathe, regards the view in front of her with a glow of self satisfaction. Meg is splayed against Ghostface’s chest, feet scrambling for purchase as she gapes up at him with horror stricken features. She shoves against his chest, desperately clawing, scrambling, like a prey caught in a snare.
Amanda tilts her head up. She doesn’t need Ghostface’s mask off to feel the smug satisfaction rolling off of him in waves, arms lashed across her back to keep her pressed to him, leaning backwards to keep her scrambling on her toes, unable to kick or find enough purchase to leap away. He coos something to the survivor that makes her blanch and renews her desperate efforts, dull nails scratching at his arm as he shakes in laughter at her response.
Amanda shudders, a shiver running up her spine as she fights to keep the bile from traveling up her throat. She couldn’t hear what he’d said from her distance, nothing more than the tone. But she’d live a happy life never knowing, nor hearing that sappy, nauseating, lovesick tone he’d taken on ever again.
Amanda easily spins on her heel, tossing her knife between her hands as she stalks through the grounds, keenly eyeing her surroundings. Now with Ghostface perfectly subdued, she was free to have her fun with the other playthings. A win-win scenario.
She snorted to herself, rolling her shoulders back as she cracked her neck. Really he should be thanking her.
Hello! Firstly I love your writing! I’m not too sure how you feel about angst but I wanted to at least throw it out there. Deathslinger, Oni, David king and the nurse being spat back out to where the entity took originally took them, with their S/O nowhere to be seen.
(Squidward Voice) We love angst here, sir.
Escaping the Realms…Without You.
Caleb “The Deathslinger” Quinn
The darkness fades and Caleb’s in his cell, the bars now rusted over, the reddish color coating along what once was silver. He jolts upwards, pain shooting up his leg as he stumbles to his feet, turning around wildly as he takes in his surroundings. It couldn’t have been anywhere else, as the dust below the man is kicked upwards, and he sneezes, bewildered. He strains his ears, eyes, all of his senses, yet the stillness of the prison persists, the building quieter than ever.
Caleb doesn’t know how, doesn’t know why, but the Entity isn’t here, the telltale humming of its enormity long gone from the surrounding area, and it is with this that he realizes he’s back at Hellshire, back where he had been taken. He turns to his side, starts to say something when he stops, his gaze locked onto the air at his shoulder.
Your ever-constant presence isn’t there, isn’t with him, and Caleb panics. He tears through the Penitentiary, tears through each and every cell, each and every room, calling out your name desperately, pleadingly. With each passing moment of silence, he grows more restless, more frantic, and he has turned every room, every nook and cranny upside down when he falls against a bench, his harpoon gun clattering against the floor as he holds his head in his hands, strands of platinum blonde brushing past his shoulders, framing his face like a dimming halo.
You’re not here. Caleb digs his nails into his eyes, into his skin. You’re still there, still stuck.
He’s lost you, and there was no getting back. A lonesome crow caws from above as the man wails, his cries echoing throughout the abandoned halls of Hellshire.
Kazan “The Oni” Yamaoka
It only takes a moment for Kazan to realize he’s somewhere else, somewhere familiar. He rises from his knees, snow crunching beneath him as he surveys the surrounding area. A stone mill looms behind him, forgotten, and he remembers, remembers the farmers. Remembers the pain, the wounds upon wounds they inflicted upon him. How he died on the stone floor, and how he awoke in the Realms.
Kazan spares the mill a passing glance before he turns his attention towards the sleeping town ahead, its streets long abandoned. Had you been at the mill, he would have known, and as such, he surmises that you must be in the town (because, where else could you have been?).
As the demon nears the street, something foreign settles into his stomach and he pauses, the feeling creeping upwards. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t want to, and he moves forward again, watching the buildings with practiced eyes. You’re going to jump out at him, going to leap upon his back to frighten him. It’s not going to work (it never does), and he continues to brace himself as he continues.
Yet, as he nears the end of the street, Kazan’s strange feeling crawls into his throat, his eyes glazing over behind the mask. He stops at the end, his silhouette alone against the snowfall, and it is then that Kazan realizes he is afraid. You’re not here, you’re not going to jump out at him and into his arms, not going to cling to him as you both make your way home.
Kazan stands still, stands rigid, and the snow continues to fall.
David King
Something hard presses into David’s back and with a groan he opens his eyes, raising a hand to block the incoming light from completely blinding him. Once his eyes have fully adjusted, he looks upwards, the beam from the street lamp a stark contrast against the black night sky. It takes a few seconds, and David’s eyes are closing again, his mind already planning for the next trial ahead–
The street lamp wobbles slightly as David lunges upwards, his fists wrapped tight around the pole as he looks at the object in awe, in disbelief. Surely this is a trick; surely, this is a new realm the Entity has created.
And yet, nothing happens; no killer stalks around the corner, no generators in sight, and no hooks. A strangled sob chokes itself out as David grins, wild and unashamed, as the familiar setting finally clicks, finally settles in. He relishes the moment before dread settles in, before fear crawls upwards.
Something is horribly wrong, and a deep set ache spreads, seeping into the very tips of his fingers.
Where are you? David turns to and fro, analyzing the surrounding area. You’re nowhere to be seen. Bile rises, a wild, primal emotion kicking in as he grows desperate, tearing apart bushes as he searches.
Where are you? Someone rests a hand, someone familiar, yet David can’t see, can’t hear, and the hand grips him tightly, faint cries of his name reaching his ears as he thrashes, animalistic.
The dread finally sinks its claws in, and David’s question is answered. You’re still there, without him. And he’s here, without you.
Something in him snaps and a gross, awful sound tears from his throat as he falls downwards, onto his knees. The hand reaches again and alarmed, David bites hard, spit and blood mixing as screams split the air, both his and someone familiar.
He has to get back. He has to go get you. He can’t do this without you.
Sally “The Nurse” Smithson
Sally blinks her eyes open, a strange, alien floor beneath her as she stirs, rising onto her side. The cold floor of an ambulance greets her finger tips, the steel hard and unforgiving, and she wonders how she fell asleep here, so far from her own realm. Yet, the trees from outside tell a different story, as these are tall and imposing, much like the ones close to her old work.
The realization comes slowly, dream-like, and a sadness washes over the nurse, her form small in the long-abandoned vehicle. She remains there a moment before crawling out, her feet pressing onto the forest floor as she stands. She startles, sinking herself further into the ground as she realizes she is standing, not floating. Elation runs its course and she hops around, digging the soles of her feet into the earth below. Yet, once her joy has sobered, something rises in her, something wrong.
Sally turns around, facing the overturned ambulance. She treads slowly, cautiously, and she presses the palms of her hands against the metal, peeking her head into the vehicle. There is no life, not a sound, and fear leaps up her throat as she rips herself away, her movement erratic and distraught as she howls, your name tearing from her as she begs, cries.
You don’t respond. How could you? You can’t even hear her, Sally realizes. Shivering, the nurse collapses to her knees, her arms wrapped around herself as she weeps.
First, Andrew. And now you. She can almost hear the Entity laughing, a deep, faint chortle far away as she wails, alone again.
Ji-Woons own skin is flawless, yet he absolutely loves doing skin care.
That's why he also "forces" other people; Rin, Susie, Julie, Frank, Joey, Danny ect. to do face masks with him.
He noticed you early and quickly got interested in the way you tried hiding your face with your hair sometimes.
When he saw your skin for the first time he immediately got excited, already planning so many wellness nights.
He did stay subtle though, keeping his anticipation hidden, but it grew the more you two befriended eachother.
Atleast until you texted him, asking for a recommendation for a product that helps against redness.
Ji-Woons excitement even showed through his texts, he'll definetely text you to come over.
And you did; he prepared a whole night. Face masks, skin care, movies, maybe even massages. (If already romantical, you'll probably take a bath together.)
Expect him to invite you over almost every weekend for spa evenings.
Sometimes he'll invite his other friends over, the ones he already did these skin care movie nights with before you came. Then you'll all sit on Ji-Woons bed, wearing face masks, talking, laughing and just having a good time overall.
He'll have his fun finding out what products help you the most, holding your face and scanning it for imperfect spots to work on while praising you (and praising himself for his good work so far).
Your skin gets better but he definetely wont stop inviting you over.
The more time you spend with him and tell him about you, the more comfortable he'll feel around you. Ji-Woon will slowly get more comfortable with physical touch and might even cuddle with you.
Hello ! I saw the enemies fo lovers things and I wanna request if possible
“ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “
With frank if you would and thank you
yessirrr i love frank sm it’s not ok. also umm i may have accidentally written friends to enemies to lovers or something idk. and though i wouldnt necessarily call you friends at the start, you werent really enemies yet???? idk🐸just ummm yeh i love frank
also help how do i not go overboard???? i feel like i made this way too long, please help and i am sorry
warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, frank being a bastard but then you’re like awwww he’s a cute bastard aaaaw
~~
Things were weird with Frank, and they always had been from the moment you stepped foot in the Entity’s realm. He always tunneled you relentlessly, and that made you think of him as a big asshole, but there were some strange details tacked onto the sentiment that greatly confused you, should you think about it for more than three seconds.
Sometimes, it seemed like he went easy on you in chases, like he put in no effort. He would chase you for a while, let you waste his time, and then leave without even getting a hit on you when he definitely had the ability to.
And you hated saying this, but when he handled you, it almost felt…gentle. Granted, he was a killer, and his job was to murder you, but your experiences with him did not quite line up with those of the other survivors.
They always described trials against Frank as “stepping on legos in the middle of the night” or something akin to that. You never felt like that, though—when he chased you, it felt fair. Almost as if he played nice with you. And more often than not, the killer would let you go when he caught you. The reason remained a mystery to you until quite a bit later.
This trial, Frank was in 100% bastard mode. You had begun to think of his trials as quite easy due to his seemingly calm nature around you, so you were rather caught off guard when he downed you in the first 30 seconds of the match and tossed you onto a hook, no gentleness whatsoever.
You wanted to yell at him and ask what the fuck was wrong with him until you realized this was his fucking job, and this is how he should have been treating you all along. Maybe you had just been imagining it all, but you could have sworn he used to leave you alone more than this. Something just felt different.
After you were unhooked, he went for you again. And again. And then you were dead, completely wiped out of the trial. Frank had demolished you with no remorse.
You knew it was silly to feel betrayed, but you really couldn’t help it. In such an insane and hellish place, anything that could be even remotely perceived as kindness seemed like so much more of a big deal than it truly was. So Frank’s supposed “gentleness” with you had felt somewhat like a friend doing you a selfless favor. Of course, it was not a selfless favor, and it was certainly nowhere near kindness, because he was still a killer chasing you with a knife, but your standards had really lowered in this place.
After that trial, you were back to hating Frank for tunneling and bullying you (like you probably should). You began to understand the survivors’ saying about the legos—and you hoped that Frank would step on some legos too, because he fucking sucked sometimes.
And for a while, that’s just how it was. You nearly forgot how he used to go easier on you, and how you used to do okay in his matches. Now every time you were pit against each other it just felt like you were being stuck with a bunch of pins; you never had any time to breathe or rest or do literally anything. He just went after you until you were gone, and there was next to nothing you could do about it.
Everything changed very suddenly during a trial at Ormond.
You were expecting the same old routine with this asshole—chase, blah blah blah, die. You hardly had energy to fight back anymore.
So when he arrived out of breath at the killer shack, somehow knowing you would be here, Frank was surprised to find you relaxing under the window with your arms loosely crossed, a disapproving scowl upon your countenance. It was enough to make him hesitate in his tracks.
You let out a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with his mask; you kept up that menacing frown for as long as you could, trying to make him feel guilty (who knows if it was even possible for him to feel guilty? But it was worth a try).
“Just kill me,” you said, voice steady and seemingly unbothered. Underneath the surface, you were trembling, but you stood your ground. “That’s what you’re gonna do, isn’t it? You’re going to chase me until I’m miserable and kill me off as soon as you can?”
Frank went still, not even fidgeting with his knife like he usually did; he was intrigued by your sudden confidence.
You went on. “I’m really sick and tired of you, you know that? I’m sick of you and your bullshit. Why can’t you treat me like everybody else? At first, you went easy on me. Now you just torture me with your stupid mind games, and frankly, I’m sick of playing! I’m done with you—I don’t care anymore! Just kill me, and I’ll get out of your way, okay asshole? Mori me if you want. I don’t give a shit.”
You put your hands up exasperatedly, fully expecting him to take the offer and just send you back to the campfire right then and there. But the man sighed, pocketed his knife, and sat down right next to you as if this were a normal thing for him to do.
You scooted a few inches away out of instinct. Frank noticed, but he chose not to say a word about it.
It was a long time before he said anything, and when he finally did, you wanted to punch him so bad.
“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. And that was all.
Oh, yeah? It was complicated? You scoffed, hanging your head with a bitter smile. “Oh, okay. Sure.”
Silence again.
Awkward, suffocating silence.
And then Frank got up and left. You were unbothered for the remainder of the trial, not even a scratch or bruise on your body.
~~
Sometimes you simply did things, and you didn’t know why. This thing that you just did was irrational, stupid, unplanned, unwise, and everything in-between, and you knew it was, but frequently you just had no impulse control. Perhaps it was the Entity’s influence, or maybe you had always been this way—you couldn’t really remember.
How did you get here again? Why were you laying on the ground? And why did your leg hurt so fucking much?
Oh, yes. Yes, yes, you remember now.
Funnily enough, it seems as though the Entity, along with certain killers, did not like it when survivors tried to enter their side of the forest! But you did it anyways, and it appeared that you had suffered the consequences. It’s not like you had put much thought into it; where was the point in that when nothing mattered anymore and you were stuck in an endless cycle of death?
You remembered entering the killer’s woods, looking around, and doing…something. What was that something? You couldn’t be sure, but then you remembered somebody coming up to you and probably definitely hurting you. Yep, your leg definitely was in a lot of pain. You couldn’t even look at it. Did you pass out for a while? Maybe. How long were you out for?
You lay still there for a while, thinking. Man, it really hurt, and boy, were you miserable. Maybe more miserable than you’d ever felt here. The Entity normally healed wounds immediately, but perhaps you had just angered it so much you deserved to suffer.
Oh, dear! You seemed to be passing out at this time. Yes, that was almost certainly what was happening. Black spots danced across your eyes as your body began to feel distant and numb, but you didn’t feel very worried about it. In fact, you felt like making jokes right now, but you had nobody to make jokes to and you probably couldn’t even speak.
Just as you began to accept it, there was a strange thumping sensation vibrating through the ground growing closer…and closer…
Footsteps! That’s good!
Oh. Not if it’s a killer. That’s not good, probably.
But you had no way of protesting when you felt yourself being picked up, because those black spots in your eyes were dancing a lot faster now, perhaps something akin to an Irish jig, and you also couldn’t feel your limbs.
Then you were fast asleep again, dreaming of Irish dancers who were actually big fluffy cloud people wearing leprechaun clothes. Nobody but you would ever know this, and it was going to stay that way.
On the bright side, it made it a lot easier for your rescuer to carry you to safety like this.
~~
When you awoke once more, you were horrified to find yourself in the Ormond lodge of all places. You knew immediately what had happened and were determined to escape as soon as possible.
Your injured leg proved to be a huge problem, however, and you collapsed the second you attempted to find freedom. Trying again, you collapsed once more, and probably maimed yourself further in the process.
Hearing the commotion from the second floor, your least favorite member of The Legion descended down from the main stairs, refusing to look directly at you even as he scooped you up and plunked you (gently) back onto the couch, which was rather comfortable (not that you would ever tell him that).
So he was playing it cool, huh?
Okay. You could play it cool, too. You were cool. Smooth as butter.
No. You really couldn’t be cool in a situation like this, and plus, your mind was still a little woohoo since whatever accident had occurred. Suddenly you blurted out, “Frank, I hate your guts.”
And he had the audacity to laugh. He laughed at you! He did the man chuckle thing, as if what you were saying was funny. No! You were completely serious! You did hate his guts!
Perhaps your face showed how upset you were, because he started to apologize (still laughing).
“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Frank said after calming down a bit.
No. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You did not want to experience dancing cloud people dressed as leprechauns ever again in your life, for the rest of eternity. Never again.
So you shook your head violently, refusing to give an explanation, which just provoked Frank to anger all of a sudden. If you went back to sleep, he could have some alone time while the rest of The Legion was gone. He kept pushing, and you kept resisting, and he pushed and you resisted, until finally he gave up and let you off with a warning. If you made him mad again, he was throwing you out in the snow.
Fine with me, you said. Okay, I’ll do it right now, he said. No balls, you said.
So then Frank casually went to scoop you up in his arms again, and you started to freak out and beat your hands against his chest until he put you back down. He was was awfully mindful of your hurt leg for someone who was about to throw you into the snow.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—please don’t throw me out,” you fussed. You thought he wouldn’t actually do it. You didn’t know it, but you were right—he was just messing with you because it was funny seeing you scared.
After a bit more griping back and forth, Frank began to grow concerned about your leg. He didn’t know how to bring up the topic because things were so odd between the two of you; this was your first interaction since the brief encounter in the shack. But he swallowed his pride, because the wound seemed to be getting worse by the minute.
“Hey, do you want me to, uhh…get some supplies?” Frank asked awkwardly. When you didn’t understand, he continued, “Your leg? It looks like it hurts…I could fix it if you want.”
You barked out a laugh at his words, unbelieving of this shift in attitude. “Rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago,” you snickered, genuinely finding it amusing.
Frank took offense. He was trying to be nice for once, and you thought it was funny. And his situation really was complex, whether you chose to believe it or not. Maybe he should just tell you to get it off of his chest.
“Listen,” he said, voice laced with seriousness. “When I told you things were complicated, I meant it.”
Sensing the mood change from his tone and body language, you stopped smiling and decided to pay attention to him. Just this once. Never again. After this you could go back to hating him.
Frank continued. “The Entity was going to start…well, hurting me, if I didn’t start doing better in trials. I really didn’t want to sacrifice you, which is embarrassing to admit, but I’ll say it. And I don’t think it liked that.”
You were surprised. And also relieved that you had been right all along—he had been going easy on you at first.
“Why me, though?” you asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t you want to sacrifice me? What about the other survivors?”
If the slight tilt of his head at your question didn’t answer it for you, the way he started tapping his feet and cracking his knuckles so nervously did.
Boy, if looks could kill, you would have died instantly at the scowl Frank sent your way; you grinned pridefully at the realization that this man was down bad. You couldn’t see the expression behind his mask, though, which Frank was thankful for.
He hated every second of this, but you loved it. You reveled in his embarrassment.
Leaning forward on your hands, you begged, “Tell me more! I want to hear all about your feelings for me.”
“I could stab you right now, you know that?”
“But you won’t. You liiiiike me!”
“What are you, eight years old?”
“No, but I am severely injured and have lost a lot of blood so I am not necessarily in the right headspace at the moment.”
“You make a fair point.”
“So tell me! What’s your favorite thing about me?”
“Your ass.”
“No, really.”
“Okay, your ass and your hair.”
“You know what, Frank, I still hate your guts.”
“No, you don’t.”
You paused for a moment. It was probably the blood loss talking, you decided later, but you said, “No. Maybe I don’t.”
𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Evan MacMillan (Trapper) x reader. (Philip Ojomo // Wraith).
𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: This happens in HOY universe.
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 1.435
𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: Missgendering. R//pe play. Everything is consenced.
Philip was nervous and sweating, he never was that close to a man ever, less half naked. Evan is a mf with no heart and even he looks straight to me... ok... Uhm, he invited me to his secret cave, it looks beautiful ngl but it's weird cuz i thought he hates me... well, not necessary hates me but thinks i'm weak and stupid. He said he wants to show me his drawings, but he's so ashamed of it that it needs to be in a secret place, oh God.
— So Evan... what do u want to show me?
+ Don't call by that name.
— Sorry, i didn't know it bothers u.
+ It's okay. Uhm, i bring ya here cuz... — I don't know why he looks so nervous, he's literally sweating and stuttering. — said Philip in his conscience. — I want to ... idk, i don't want to be alone this night.
I opened my eyes like black plates.
— Bro...?
+ AGH!! forget that!
Evan throw me to the ground with madness.
— Yo nigga what the fuck?!- Evan shut my mouth with his huge hands, sorrounding all my slim body. + Shshhhh... Be quiet — he whispered — Ya look so sexy in those shorts.
I frowned confused.
+ I want to fuck ya so bad since I know u have something I want down there.
I scared and tried to get him off, I struggle but he is stronger than me. I tried to shout but I couldn't, he was holding my mouth, his hand could trapped my both wrists and was completely in top of me. He whispered — If u open your mouth, this turning worse —He removed his hand of my mouth and put it in my abdomen, slowly moving up to the chest which was covered with bandages. Evan put a finger low the bandages to tickle me like worm movements..
Philip was shaking, he tried taking him of but couldn't. Evan interrumpted his thoughts.
+ Let's see what we have here. He free my wrists and then, I had the opportunity to escape, punching him in the face and kicking him in the testicles. Evan grunted in pain. I got up and ran away but not for so long cuz he grabbed me from my ankle dragging me across the ground.
— STOP, PLEASE !! Let me go ! — I sobbed. He took me from my roots/horns roughly, on top of me, and told me.
+ Cry or try to scape again and i'll fucking kill ya right here, right now.
I shed a tear.
He shreddred my bandages, exposing my chest. Shaking, Philip closed his eyes and imagined he wasn't there. — How beautiful titties ya have — Evan smiled, kneading Philip's tits, he hold them gently, making thumb circles in his dark nipples. Suddenly, he took of his mask and buried his faces between those pair, I whimpered softly. — Don't call them "titties"... please. Evan ignored me. He was making disgusting sounds sucking my nipples, like if he were eating them. While he was sucking one, he was playing with the other, twisting it, squeezing it.
Philip moaned quietly and close his eyes again, roughly this time. Evan laughed, licked all his chest, ran his tongue all over his abdomen, his abs felt like little mountains to his tongue. + I finish my appetizer here, now i want the whole menú. — What u mean "menú" !? — I already told ya, haven't I?
Evan took the top of his shorts and lower them slowly paying attention to each skin pore that was showing, staring at his mons pubis.
+ This is what I was waiting for...
Philip had a worried and embarrased face, pulled up his shorts quickly cuz he couldn't handle the insecurity and fear. — I- I- I can't do this, please, i'm begging you, let me go. — Evan closed up to his face, looked at his eyes with a very intimidating face for a while, Philip was sweating, he was waiting for a punch in the face or a choke, but... Evan kissed him. He wasn't expecting that... With all the guilty and pleasure feelings, he responded to the kiss harder, was a tongue, wet kiss, with passion and rage. Philip held up of Evan's rough nape, while he was tampering his entire body. His hands were dry and felt like rocks grating my body, ripped my pants off and tampered my thights. Then, he took a look to my intimity and said.
+ Lord bless America. W- — Just shut up. I blushed.
Evan got closer and rubbed his bulge to me, so softly and gently, up and down, slowly. He undressed and revealed the huge monster between his legs. Philip straightened up when he saw it, astonished I said. — Don't even think about it... The Trapper seduced me with his eyes answering him already, confident. Put the hand in front of me so I can spit on it and moisten his cock. I stared at him, frotting himself with my saliva, he looked so... hot touching himself in front of me, even... he looked so pleased. His growlings turns me on a lot. His glans was shining... Oh God, forgive me.
Evan got closer, bringing that monster to me, I can't allow it.
— Uhm, man. I- I don't know- Ah !!?~ - He already placed his glans in my entrance... Robbing it between his labias, so softly. I- I. A little moan scaped from my throat, and he heared it.
He opens one eye and looks at me, I cover my face with my hands and t-shirt, it was too embarrasing. He shows me his teeth and gets even closer, I can feel his testicles skimming my anus.
+ I knew you liking it.
— Shut up, u big idiot.
Evan grabs him by thighs and places them on his. After having moistened his entrance, carefully rubbing his cock, he decided to penetrate him. Philip lets out a long and pleasurable moan, squirmming. — ¡Oh, Dios! — I wasn't expectating that! How he dares?? he was just warming me to it, then, he decides to bury that beast in me.
+ Fuck, ya feel so tight and wet in here — Groaned. His movements were careful and passionate. — Phil.. ya are so fragile and delicate, ya pussy is warm and narrow, I fuckin love it. — he sped up.
It is throbbing, oh my God, It feel so good. His strongs arms holding my spread legs for him makes my "kitty" beat, i feel if my heart was in my mons, God, why this feels so great? Am I enjoying it? Cuz — Hmm humhmm ~ jeez, continue, sweetheart, U - Agh ~~ — Philip didn't want Evan to hear his cries of pleasure, so he shut his mouth with his hands.
When Evan found out, picked up both of his wrists and placed them over his head so he can't move with one hand.
+ I want to hear ya scream to me.
I can't resist, my chest is bouncing, his huge body covers mines, that heat I'm feeling in my stomach, those watery sounds that my kitty is making when he plugs his member inside of me that fast and rough.
— ... Keep going. — Evan, amazed, did what he wants. Fucked him harder.
Wraith's lil kitty was red (not literally) it was burning, it hurts a lot but it feels so good. Isn't it? ... Hmm, this feels like heaven. Philip started to rub his clit while hiding his face, he didn't want anybody to see him while turning on. — Harder ... please. — He said with broken voice.
Evan grabbed him from his tits, squeezing them, and apparently, trying to destroy his pussy. That shit was wet and creamy asf.
Evan grabbed his arms, lifted him from the waist up, clinging to him and, kissed him as hard as he could. Wraith suprised, but he still loves when he kiss him, it feels like true love. (yo y los traumados cuando). He squirted. Evan dropped him carelessly, leaving him with all his cum inside.
Philip looks sick, he fell on the ground trembling, had a shaking orgasm. He had a completely satisfying face like if he were seeing Jesus or something. Stayed on the ground feeling the cum sliding out of him.
So you mentioned “most DBD killers”, I don’t want to assume which ones you won’t write for, would it be okay if you elaborated on that?
Of course!
There are only a few I won't write for, and some I won't write certain things for out of comfort/lack of knowing them (despite me playing the game for almost 2 years)
Any killers I'm missing ate purely because they are slashers more known, so I feel like they either don't need to be here or are already known to be a yes for me to write :)
