𝘐𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 (dbd Ghostface Smutshots)

🔪 Pent up 🔪

Warnings: blood
Contains: knifeplay, slight bondage, thigh riding, edging, choking

~🔪~

It had become normal to be randomly thrown into a trial, not knowing where you are, or who you are with. But luckily, today was a day where you'd get thrown into a match with people you've actually been with before, and a place you knew fairly well. Thought it would've been easier to know what killer you were dealing with, you continued your way down a familiar path. It was dry, and all you could hear were the annoying crows squawking every so often. Knowing there was a generator atop a balcony outside the saloon that had been nearby, you crouched towards it. You could see a fellow survivor running, they knew where they were going. Looking closer, you could recognize the blue button up they were wearing. It fit around their waist perfectly, tucking into their jeans. You prayed for them, hoping it wasn't Michael.
Instead of continuing, they stopped to wave at you, mouthing a small 'heya'. You smiled, you were glad there was still some joy in the people that were trapped here. You raised your hand to proudly wave, mouthing 'hey Laurie' then turning back to slowly move into the saloon. The place was rickety, every step you made caused a creak in the wooden floorboards. It was almost calming to hear the silence, through the crows and creaking of the saloon it was peaceful. Or at least it was. Shrieking could be heard outside, seemingly from a male. You stopped to process the scream, Jake. Sighing, you made your way up the stairs. It was painful to hear your friends cry out, but you couldn't do much to stop the entity from being a complete jackass.
You got to work on the generator that sat in front of you, they weren't too hard to fix, you just had to be good with your hands. Again, you heard the same scream. It hurt to listen, to eventually hear them get placed onto a hook like it's nothing. Obviously they don't actually die, they always come back, but it still feels absolutely terrible to see or hear it happen. But you continued to work, hoping that someone would help the poor boy. You stopped for a second to sit and rest, you hadn't even done much but you felt tired. Not just tired, you felt exhausted. Your hands ached, you may have been good with them but that doesn't stop the pain from pinching at your nerves. But you let it go.
Turning back to the generator, you wondered about who the killer could be. Maybe it was Wraith? He's pretty quiet besides his bell, but then again you probably haven't been near him. It definitely wasn't Myers, he probably would've been at tier 3 by now so he could've insta-knocked Jake. You stopped, feeling a familiar chill go down your spine.

"Don't make a single fucking sound." The voice was muffled, and slightly raspy.
But you knew who it was, and you had no complaints.
You turned around to be met with Ghostface, his mask slightly splattered with blood. Smirking at his attempt to get you to play his game, you scoffed. He crouched at your level, your face not too far from his mask, you could head butt him easily.

"And who do you think you are to tell me what to do?" You could practically feel his frown under the mask, you knew how to hit his nerves in all the right ways.

He growled, clenching his knife,"Is this how we are gonna do this? Fine."

Before you could even trying opening your mouth to protest, he had grabbed you, placing a glove covered hand over your mouth. The leather felt cold, and wet. It was obviously stained with blood. You clenched your lips together, not wanting to get any of it in your mouth, though you could feel it smearing across your lips. He had dragged you into a smaller room inside the saloon, lockers were lined against the wall, and it was still as quiet as ever.
A loud ringing sound erupted in the air, signifying a generator had been fixed. You could hear the masked man behind you groan, knowing he'd have to deal with whichever fuck did it. But for now, he was fixated on you.
He sat you down, the floorboard creaking beneath you. You watched as he paced, probably thinking of something, before turning to face you. He quickly walked and grabbed you up by the collar of your shirt, placing his knife under his cloak into its holster. The other hand landed on the wall, a little too close to your neck for comfort. After holstering his knife, he brought his hand to your chin, caressing it. There was silence, not even crows could be heard. His breathing was slow and deep, you unconsciously tried to match it, failing miserably.