#dbd crack

The next trial, you were up on a hook and decided to attempt escape. You reached up to the hook, trying to pull your body weight up, back arching in effort and breasts jiggling from your heaving breath — when you heard a fucking wolf whistle. The killer, the Legion boy with a bandana, was looking at your efforts, leaning cockily against a nearby tree. “What the hell do you want?” you spat, glaring at the teen while still trying to struggle from the hook. The killer shook his head in amusement before doing a crude gesture with his hands, making you falter in surprise and your grip on the hook slip. What a brat!

You’d barely had any time to complain about the two masked killers to your friends, before you were whisked away and to a trial where you’d had to deal with the Clown. “Don’t run, pussycat! Come on over and give daddy some sugar! HUEHUEHUEUGGHH COUGH COUGH!!” The killer had been even more disgusting than usual, yelling obscenities while tunneling and camping you for all five gens. You found yourself almost missing the gross wheezing and coughing the killer normally did, as it was much preferable to whatever the hell this was.

When you’d faced Deathslinger the next trial, you almost already expected an inappropriate comment when he found you first. But he just chased and downed you normally—huh. “Gotta love a gal with some meat on ‘er bones,” the killer finally drawled when picking you up on his shoulder, hands squeezing your love handles. Ah. He just waited for the right moment. When the cowboy hoisted you up on a hook, he’d leaned closer than necessary, muttering a suggestive “Lemme know if yer ever itchin’ fer a ride,” in your ear before leaving to hunt your friends.

When you faced Freddy, you were already prepared for your inevitable doom. Sure enough, soon the perv had you slugged and was standing over you, looking awfully smug. “I’m you boyfriend now, honey cheeks,” he’d chuckled menacingly. “Not even close,” you argued, rolling your eyes. This crispy bacon twink didn’t stand a chance against your real boyfriend, buff as all hell and delightfully mischievous. You sighed happily at your daydream, tuning out Freddy’s incel monologue in the background. Soon enough, the last gen got done and you were up and running with adrenaline, leaving Freddy to bite the dust.

Your next trial was the Pig, and you’d felt elated. Finally a female killer! Your joy was short-lived though, as you were soon cursing out the Jigsaw boxes with a beeping reverse bear trap on your head. When you cut yourself on the damn thing again and had to remove your hands to start over, there was an unmistakable flick of a switchblade before you felt a warm, soft body pressing up against your back and a heartbeat blaring in your ears. “Let me help you with that,” the killer had purred in your ear, voice muffled by her mask. “Wouldn’t want to ruin such a pretty face,” she said, running a finger down your cheek. With her so close, the timer had paused and you were able to search the last box without the threat of your head getting split in half, which you could sort of appreciate.

The last trial you had was with Myers. Surely the taciturn killer would stick to killing you? It always seemed like his only interest in life was murder. He was running his no heartbeat build, which, not ideal but you’d take what you could get. It made you jumpy as hell and, wouldn’t you know it, the next corner you rounded he was standing right there and you nearly bumped into him. Myers raised his hand and you prepared for the stab — when he decided to grab your boob instead. You both froze and you should probably have been offended, but the way his hand just awkwardly rested on your breast was not sexual in the slightest. He tilted his head, giving the flesh a slight squeeze that made you squeak in surprise and goddamnit you were not above slapping him — when Myers recoiled away in disgust and did a complete 180, smacking face first into the wall in his haste to get away from you.

“That’s what happened!” you end your story, crossing your arms and looking at Pyramid Head demandingly. “So, do you have something to say? It seems awfully convenient they decided to perv on me as soon as we made this official!”

The pyramid turns away in shame.

“Babe. What. Did. You. Do,” you try again. There’s a sigh. And then he whistles and makes an hourglass shape with his hands. And then, to your mortification, he does an air thrust.

“Oh my God,” you mumble, burying your face in your hands in shame. Great, he told all the killers about your... assets, and that you’re sleeping together. But why would they approach you and risk his wrath? Unless...

“Did you tell them we’re dating?” you ask. Pyramid Head snorts, and points at... his crotch. Wow, eloquent. “Yeah, you told them we’re fucking, congrats,” you snark, rolling your eyes. “I don’t think they know that we’re, y’know, exclusive. Because they, or at least some of them, weren’t just teasing. They were definitely, uh. Propositioning me,” you clarify.

He’s silent but you can feel him tense up. Then he hums, demanding. ‘Which ones?’

“Uh. The cowboy at least. And that one Legion — actually, you know what, they were all really fucking out of line and need a stern talking to. Err, gesturing to,” you tell him.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just snort and keep cuddling you. He stands up, placing you gently back on your feet before squaring his shoulders and drawing his sword out of the ground, a dark energy radiating off him.

“... You’re not planning on talking, are you?” you ask warily. Not that you particularly care about the well-being of the killers who have murdered you countless time. If anything, it’s kind of hot that Pyramid Head wants to defend your honor like this.