fog. (18+)
Danny “The Ghost Face” Johnson x fem!reader
cw! : cunnilingus, unprotected!piv, knife, blood, Danny carving his name into your skin, squirting, rough, dbd lore centered, ooc!Danny maybe 🤔 just a lil something something :P
The fog settled on the ground beneath you, like it always did when you could only remember the campfire’s warmth as you explored the realm around you.
You had found a hideout almost two days ago. The unforgettable smell of paper that was pungent in there made you kinda miss it - there were notebooks lying around, half of them empty and the other half full of information of the people that were here before you. It was a warm place - a place you actually felt at rest among the trees and the fog. It all felt so far away - the trials, the killers. But that thick fog that just wouldn’t seem to let anyone go. That thick fog that brought you here.
The leaves and sticks crunched beneath the soles of your shoes, your clothes almost enveloped by the fog, as you spotted the hideout in the distance. You quietly hurried toward it, heart pumping with excitement to isolate yourself and finally relax. It was slightly cold, your skin broke out into goosebumps and your teeth started clattering slightly. Just a little further.
The squeaky, rusty hinges of the rotten wooden door creaked as you opened it, looking around the place. You had really cleaned up here. Most of the spider webs were gone, in places you could reach, and the dust wasn’t as thick as it was before. Grabbing a book from the one room shack, belonging to an old survivor probably, you skimmed through the lines of it and found new things out about this realm.
You were so focused on reading the notes that you didn’t even hear the leaves crunching beneath someone’s light footsteps. Not even the loud twig snapping that had occurred just outside the door.
Finally, your attention was on the door as it slowly started to open. You hid in the corner behind the door, trying to be quiet. Trying to get your mind on keeping still as you sat on the floor, your movements fully restrained. You didn’t want to look. You had to. You were behind the door. There wasn’t anything else to hide behind.
The footsteps came inside. Your breath hitched, and then you decided to hold it. Quiet. You had to stay quiet. Your eyes were wide open as your hands went to cover your mouth. The heavy boots this person wore stopped clashing with the floor. They were standing still now.
A slow creak of the floorboard indicated new movement. But this time, you could see it. Black hood peering over behind the door, white, plastic mask with dark eyes and long mouth. The Ghost Face.
“Lookie here.” He giggled cynically.
You whimpered out in fear. Your body started shaking and your heart pumped at a million beats per second.
Run.
It was the only thing that came to your mind, the only thing you could even do. Until you tried. Your body just wouldn’t move, it wouldn’t budge, you couldn’t even breathe anymore. This was death. Certainly.
You couldn’t even speak, not even to plead for your life. You bet he liked it when they begged. All of the other victims of him.
“What’s wrong, baby? Cat got your tongue?” He teased, and the tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. This sadist motherfucker. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He tried reassuring. Yeah, for sure. A violent serial killer from the real world would totally not hurt you, he’d be too nice!
You tried speaking.
“W-why? I mean, I-I don’t get it.” You stuttered and mumbled like a child learning to speak for the first time. You just felt so completely out of control.
“W-w-why?” He mocked, taking his mask off and crouching to your level. “Because I’m feeling generous. And…” he looked you up and down. “I like you.”
You flushed. Feeling the heat rushing to your face, you tried to distract yourself, only ending up sneezing. That always happened, for some reason. Especially when you were flustered.
“Bless you, baby. Getting shy?” Your confusion showed itself through your facial expressions, but also, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to calm the heat between your legs.
This guy was a fine man. You had never seen him without his mask on, jet black hair, tired eyes and deathly pale skin. He truly did have a ghost face. His dark brown eyes traced your body like he was trying to find something.
“N-no.”
No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop stuttering. You were a grown ass woman with a degree, for god’s sake. But he was a grown man with a knife. So that’s reasonable again.
“Yeah, I think you are.” He slammed the door closed with a chuckle. And once he looked away to do that, you pounced on him.
You didn’t know what you were trying. Were you trying to get his knife? Were you trying to grind your pussy on his crotch, doing all the work yourself? Decisions, decisions.
Straddling him, you managed to squeak out “I’m not shy.” in a very quiet tone. “Hm? Louder, baby, I can’t hear you.” He urged, and you could feel yourself getting irritated. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is? You slapped his bare face.
But you oblige. You haven’t gotten laid in what felt like forever since you got into the realm. This was your golden fucking ticket, and you wanted it now. Ever since you found this spot, your fingers did the trick. You missed your vibrator back home, your shower head, your everything.
“I’m not shy.” You said louder and clearer instead of mumbling into your shirt.
“You’re not, clearly. You’re on top of a killer, sweetheart, how does that make you feel? Powerful, hm? Like you’re in control after slapping me?” He questioned, trailing his hand up your chest, cupping it gently, before squeezing hard.
“Yeah! It does! S-shit!” You grunt out in pain, and he lets go. “Really? Well, if you’re in control, I can just lay back, can’t I? Just grind yourself on me, that’s the only foreplay you’re getting.”
He knew that was a lie. But you started moving, rubbing your clothed cunt up and down his bulge, so so desperate for the slightest amount of touch.
You couldn’t even lie, he felt so good. You could tell he was big enough to split you in half once you kept going, and he was even hotter than in the trials. He was a good looking guy, and his mannerisms in trials were even more attractive. He used to let you go, drop chase and give you hatch at the end, but you didn’t know it’s just cause he wanted to fuck you. And it’s not like you didn’t want it too.
You were rubbing your pussy up and down, the black leather of his robe feeling smooth against it, not giving you the friction you wanted.
Letting out a small, needy whimper, you looked up at him with big, sweet doe eyes and a pout, trying to get him to actually fuck you straight. He snickered in response. “Mm. You’re so whiny, aren’t you? Cmon baby, sit on my face.”
Fuck.
You had never done that before. You’ve had your fair share of good times and such, but sitting on someone’s face was a first. Your face didn’t get any less warm as you looked at him, surprise in your gaze. He noticed immediately, of course he did. He’s a serial killer, why would he not notice the smallest details?
“Nothing’s gonna happen, sweetheart. Just sit.” You bit your lip, taking off your tattered jeans and your simple, grey cotton panties. “There we go, baby.” He muttered, and you could only squirm. This was so so so wrong. He’s a killer, he’ll probably not even take care of you after, he’s just a man. He’ll probably only use you.
You sat there. On his bulge, still. Not moving a muscle. Just thinking. When he gripped your thighs and ushered you above his face with his own body strength, you finally moved.
“Now sit.” He chuckled. You couldn’t. You would totally suffocate this guy, he looked like he didn’t know his limits, or yours. Or anyone’s, for that matter. Shyly hovering over his head in an uncomfortable half-crouch, half-sit, you didn’t feel his tongue on you at all. But before you could furrow your brows, his veiny, ghostly hands went to your hips, pulling them down onto his face.
You yelped, letting out a string of high pitched, desperate moans as he moved his tongue, lapping at your pussy with a fervour and a hunger, giving you the impression that he’s already so drunk on you.
“O-oh! Mmph- fuck! You’re really good—! At this!” You whine and mewl, and he didn’t stop, urging you to rock forwards on his nose with his hands. His nose nudged against your puffy clit, your eyes watering from the pressure of his tongue on your entrance. Fuck, he was so good at it. Made you wonder how many times he had done it before.
It only took one small thing to push you over the edge - a swirl of his tongue on your sensitive clit as your body shook from the orgasm. “Fuck, Ghostie!” You moaned, earning a smack on your bare ass. You got up, giving him some air.
“It’s Danny.” He told you, kissing your thigh and flipping you both around. He took off his robe, porcelain skin looking sickly white as he was left in his boxers.
Lean. Fit. Sexy.
You could genuinely just cum again from looking at him. Danny was hot, and you wanted it now.
Funnily enough, even if he seemed like the guy that would have tattoos, he doesn’t. There was not an inch of visible skin to notice a tattoo on, maybe because of the identification thing.
“Danny.” You whispered. “Yes?” He mumbled back.
“Fuck me already.” An almost inaudible command from your soft lips. He kissed them and gave you more, just like you wanted.
But maybe not very softly.
Danny rushed in, slamming his cock inside you, balls deep in your warm pussy. The scream you let out was loud and uncomfortable, the burning sensation between your thighs worse.
“What? I thought that’s what you wanted, hm?” He teased, and you let out a sob. “Not that hard!” Tears streaming down your face, you felt pathetic for crying while on a killer’s dick. He couldn’t care less about your feelings or your opinion. He wanted to release some tension.
“I’m sorry baby.. I’ll go easy on you.”
But you didn’t believe that for a second. He slowly slipped back out, trying to accumulate some more wetness of your pussy with his fingers first, then tapping his cock on your sensitive clit. You were so horny now, he looked so good. You pulled him down, almost enough to get him to lay on top of you, and pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth. Chapped lips kissing back, he sank back in way more comfortably than before, slowly picking up the pace.
Your repressed noises came out as small sighs when he pulled away, hips against yours. But he couldn’t have that, no no. He wanted you to cry for him.
“Sweetie… make some noise for me, okay? How’s that sound?”
You replied with a loud moan as he pumped in and out of your dripping wet pussy. At first, he went super slow. An aching pace, slow motions from his fingers on your clit, stimulating you more and more.
You cry out, Danny was going so slow it was getting boring. “Danny, harder.” You whine, a big pout on your face. It made you feel so desperate and pathetic, but you needed it so badly. He wasn’t stimulating you like you wanted.
Danny fully stopped.
You looked him deep in his eyes, and he stared back into yours. What was he even doing? Was he pissed off at you? It was just a small demand. Well, maybe not small. “Alright.” He smirked. You couldn’t even realise what was behind his eyes. Or his face. Or him.
He didn’t need to be told twice. “Tell me when it’s too much.” He mumbled. He flipped you around, getting you on your hands and knees, the rough, dirty wooden floor dug into your limbs, and he started pounding into you like an animal.
“Ahh! Oh- shit! Danny! Fuuuuuuck!” He went at it like crazy, holding your hips while rutting into you at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You didn’t even know how fast he was going, your brain and your pussy could genuinely just not keep up. You could feel yourself going fully dumb.
“This what you wanted, princess?” You couldn’t even let out a single word since your breath was getting pushed out of you by the thrust. “Yeah it is, isn’t it?” And fuck, it was. It felt so intoxicatingly good, your pussy spasmed more and more, indicating your orgasm soon.
And if the way he was fucking you wasn’t enough, he reached out, your palms still aching, and with cold hands, he grabbed your arms, holding them behind your back, the pressure and pain on your knees intensified. The pull was aching your shoulders and you both kept sighing and moaning. His groans were getting loud too, as well as his thrusts in sputtering intervals. He was actually destroying your sweet, poor pussy, pounding into your sweet spot. That was the final straw.
“Danny! I’m gonna cum, please! Imgonnaimgonnaimgonna, shit!” You squealed, squirting all over his long cock. “Mm, good girl.” The squeeze of your pussy made him fill you up with his cum, warm liquid inside the gummy walls of your cunt. “Shit, there we go. Tight fit.” He smacked your ass. You could feel it spilling out of your entrance, hearing a slightly thick and dull drip of his nut from your pussy as he pulled out. It made you clench.
He slipped back into you, and your aftershocks got more intense when he kept going. Stringing one orgasm after the other in all positions you could think of. You ended with what you started - doggy. And among your desperate pleas for him to give you a break, you heard a knife getting pulled out.
“What the fuck was that?” You panicked, trying to crawl away, but he held you against his balls firmly. “Just a little tattoo machine.” You clenched again. Was this motherfucker about to give you a scar? God, that was hot.
“Shit, Danny.” You moaned. The sharp sting of his knife met your lower back. He started carving what felt like a D. Then an A. “Are you spelling your fucking name on my back like a tramp stamp?” You yelled through clenched teeth, trying to get over the sting. Bastard.
“Yeah baby.” The last thing you could feel was a heart. With one last pat on the ass, he pulled out, and his cum kept spilling out of your aching hole. “Mine.”
Anyone else sneeze when horny? Just me? Ok. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
