Ghostface x fem!Reader (dead by daylight)

anything

Utterly dazed, I allow him to lead me inside the house, his leather hands guiding my arms. With a sense of satisfaction, I hear the generator continue to hiss and whir. If I can distract him for just a few minutes more, the remaining survivors may still make it out of this alive. This thought dulls the dread of my (at this point) inevitable death.

I realize numbly that he has brought me to the master bedroom. An inkling of an idea penetrates the back of my mind, but it is so ludicrous that I dismiss it immediately.

Surely that's not what he meant by anything, I think derisively.

Though, this doesn't nullify the hot thumping in my body and the flush on my cheeks. I notice now that through the thin cloth of his suit, you can see lean muscles expand and contract. This revelation does nothing to soothe the carnal pit in my stomach.

I am so involved in my own troublesome thoughts that I don't even notice that he's unhanded me. He is now focused on something on the ground, his wide back turned to me. I think hazily that I could just run now, fix the generator quickly, and possibly live. However, something primal keeps me rooted to the spot.

He turns back around, now with something wrapped around the hand that had been carrying the knife. I lean closer to inspect it and my stomach twists strangely as I realize he is holding a rope. He breathes out again and this time I can hear the smile.

"I'll ask you again..." he says quietly. "How much would you do to survive?"

the rope in his hands twists under his leather gloves. I suddenly fully understand what he's asking me... and this time, I feel sure of my answer.

"Anything," I respond, no question in my voice.

He strips his gloves off slowly, making a harmless gesture feel extremely loaded. I hold my hands out without thinking, waiting for the sensation of rope. He laughs softly.

"You catch on quickly," he praises, and I feel my chest lurch pleasantly.

As he binds my wrists together - loosely, to my surprise - I realize just how outlandish this is. If the entity is watching (or can even see) I can't imagine what reaction this would provoke. Not only is this wildly out of concept for a survivor, it also shows rebellion on the part of a killer. Ghostface chose to spare me on that balcony for the price of human contact - an act being performed - possibly - for the first time.

Perhaps he's more like us than we had imagined.

Ghostface's bare hands brush my own and I truly blush this time, the warmth and softness of his skin surprising me. I wonder foolishly if his mask is hiding a blush as well... or maybe he is above that. This might not even be his first time, I consider.

His hands have long bony fingers and it strikes me that in his life before this hell, he may have played piano. I have to remind myself harshly to stop humanizing him, and that this act likely ends in my death.

He leads me - one hand on my waist, the other on my wrists - to the headboard of the bed, where he slips my knotted hands over a mast, securing me. I crawl onto the bed, my breath heavy and thick with anticipation.

Any fear of what comes after this melts at his soft touch on my waist. I could not have imagined that two hands so heavy with violence could be gentle and loving on a human body. He doesn't appear to be in any hurry, which surprises me.

His bare hands roam over my shoulders and spine, dipping and slowing with the curves of my form. One of his hands seems to have a permanent tremor. I realize slowly that it is the hand that carries his knife, a quirk I had never noticed on the receiving end of it.

His soft, slender fingers slide down to my waist, hooking my belt loops and pulling. I shiver as I feel a rush of cold air between my legs as he slides my pants to my ankles. I hear my clothes drop to the floor and tremble again, this time with anticipation.

I expect to feel something enter me and I tense, but instead, I feel his hands meet my skin again, this time caressing my waist, squeezing and relaxing his hands on my hips. I let my head fall and, realizing that I hadn't been breathing, let out a large sigh that sounds more like a whine.

I hear Ghostface chuckle behind me, but not his usual cocky laugh, a gentle, slightly nervous laugh. He traces my spine again and I squirm under his touch.

I can't see him, but I imagine he is enjoying watching me become increasingly anxious for him to give in.

He tugs at the hem of my shirt and slides his hand underneath to feel the curve of my shoulder blades. I shudder and let out a moan as I feel his clothed bulge press up against my leg.

Though I had never felt this way about him before today, it feels in this moment that I need nothing but him, like I had wanted him my entire life.