#Masky x you

[bloodblanks]

masterlist — creepypasta + marble hornets

characters: eyeless jack, hoodie, masky, ticci toby, jeff the killer, ben drowned, slenderman

all works are reader insert [character x fem reader]

author's note: dead dove: do not eat. the following works may contain dark, explicit content, including rape/non-con, dub-con, stockholm syndrome, ‘yandere’ tropes, abuse, death, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

if you wish to see more content, please consider commissioning me! ♡

creepypasta boyfriend quiz

eyeless jack

tili tili bom | one | two | three

a field of red spider lilies | one | two | three | final

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

hoodie / brian thomas

solace | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

masky / timothy ‘tim’ wright

solace | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

ticci toby / tobias erin ‘toby’ rogers

pumpkin head | one

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

jeff the killer / jeffrey woods

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

ben drowned

30 frames per second | one

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

slenderman / the operator

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

miscellaneous work

creepypasta pet headcanons

creepypasta video game headcanons

creepypasta pet name headcanons

creepypasta height headcanons

[dreamerimpossible]

Creepypastas Kinks

I'm on vacation. I'm back worse than before; I haven't improved at all these months. This post proves it. This content is intended ONLY for those over 18 years of age. If you're younger, please don't read it, as it contains dark content.

Warnings: +18 content, dark content, manipulation, obsession, VERY unhealthy relationships.

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Masky, Hoodie, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby

Jeff The Killer

Angry sex/hatefucking: Does it surprise you? Probably not. It doesn't matter if he's mad at you or a little annoyed, even if he hates you, he'll always take his frustrations out that way. For him, sex is about control and humiliation. So, whether you're his partner, his ally, or his enemy, it doesn't matter. If he's mad at you, he'll take you and fuck you. The situation will be very toxic, like everything else related to him, but we like that shit around here.

Dirty talk: He'll talk dirty to you, that's for sure. I doubt he'll ever utter a compliment to you, no matter how hot you are. He'll objectify you, insult you, and say things that will embarrass you, but will turn you on. I think "whore" might be the softest thing he could say to you. Sometimes he'll come up behind you and whisper to you, "Do your job and follow me." It's humiliating, his dirty talk is degrading, and it can leave you in a bad light in front of others. Ideal for those who like that kind of dynamic.

Jealousy: Uh… yeah. He won't accept you looking at other people, much less approaching them. He has a big ego; he needs you to pump it up all the time. So being around that harmless guy won't end well. Aside from hurting him (or worse), you'll have sex where he tells you over and over again not to be a whore and to respect him, even if you've only spoken minimally to someone else. He's very jealous and will take it out with violence and sex.

*Bonus: Knife Play, no doubt. It was too obvious, so I didn't include it in the main kinks to include others. But yeah, imagine he does all of the above with a knife. Depending on how he sees you, he might or might not make a lot of cuts. If he sees you as pure or even a little innocent, he'll write his name on your thigh or buttock with his knife and do nothing else. Because if you ever decide to cheat on him, he wants others to see you as naive, but to humiliate you or leave when they see the scar of an unknown man's name on your skin. He's sleazy, but we already knew that. If he doesn't see you as innocent, you could have multiple cuts on your body.

Masky

Car sex: If you're not a proxy like him, he won't see you as an equal, so he'll treat you like a sex slave or something (not literally, but you get the idea). So at random times of the day, when he's really stressed, he'll throw you over his shoulder, rip your clothes off, put you in the backseat or on the hood, and just fuck you, just like that, no questions asked. He might take you on minor missions (only if they're not that important), and if all goes well, he'll let you ride him aggressively in the driver's seat. You'll like to please him, as it might put him in a better mood…or not, it doesn't matter; either way, this man is hot when he's angry.

Degradation: Worse than Jeff, he'll tell you you're nothing without his protection, that if he gets bored of your body, he'll abandon you, that your existence serves no purpose other than spreading your legs or bending you over. He'll bring you clothes only to rip them off and tell you this is how he truly likes to see you…vulnerable and ready for him. He'll think he owns you and let you know it, nibbling at your body and telling you no one should touch Masky's whore. He'll treat you like an extension of himself. He'll make you so good to him that it'll be hard for him to even think about abandoning you.

Overstimulation: He gets worse when he's upset (which could be frequent if he's going through a tough time). When he's in a bad mood and wants to see you suffer, he'll spend hours between your legs, his tongue working nonstop. He'll laugh at your tears and your pleasure. He likes to think that it hurts you too, having him so close, but that it's difficult and impossible to escape him, so you get used to it and give him a twisted affection. Exactly how he makes you feel after overstimulation: numb, aching, and desired.

Hoodie

There are so many great analyses of Hoodie, I really can't choose any. They're all accurate and good. But in my headcanon, I have him as a brash, manipulative, and twisted man. I think he's so clever he'd have you eating out of the palm of his hand. I think these kinks define a bit of what I see in him.

Hunter/Prey: He'd like this game. Chasing you through the woods and finding you every time would make him so hard under his pants. He'd tell you to play dirty, to try to escape, even though he knows you want to be caught. He wants you to at least pretend you want to run away from him, because when he catches you, he'll win you over again. He likes to fuck you while you're face down in the ground. He wants you to scream, to grunt, to pretend to ask for help, because he knows you don't want anyone to help you and you're in his net until he tires.

Shower sex: A little unexpected, I know, but let me explain. I doubt he'll let you shower alone since you'd be wasting water and you wouldn't be a proxy, so it's not fair for you to take advantage of him (something Hoodie would tell you to get you to agree). So you'll shower with him the whole time, and he'll know how to keep you wrapped around his finger. He'll bend down and lick your private parts as if it were part of his routine. Little by little, he'll insert his fingers and you won't be able to suppress or fake your moans. He'll give you such good orgasms in the shower that you'll think you're in love with him. He wants you to be his perfect whore, he wants Masky to fantasize about getting those moans out of you, so he'll want you to moan loud.

Corruption: A must. No matter how tough or brave you are, if you're not in his world, you're a victim to be corrupted. He'll make you fantasize about being fucked by Masky and Toby at the same time without even suggesting the idea, and then he'll make you feel guilty for even thinking it. He'll make you feel like you have him in your hands so you can whisper dirty and dangerous thoughts in his ear when he's on top of you. He likes it when you break down a little for him.

*Bonus: Voyeurism, obviously. He'll start watching you without knowing why. You'll make him curious, too curious. To the point of obsession. He'll see everything: when you moan, cry, laugh. Everything. He'll know everything about you and he'll record it all. He'll have his camera full of your everyday behaviors… until he gets bored of them, takes you, and replaces them with sexual positions of you, videos of you kneeling with your mouth open receiving his cum, and you begging him to fuck you. Sexual videos and photos that will make sure you never leave him because you'll no longer be seen as the same person in your circle.

Laughing Jack

Consensual non-consent (CNC): He just pretends you don't want to. Seriously, he likes it, it turns him on. He finds pleasure in literally and figuratively breaking someone. And if you fulfill that fantasy, he'll do everything you want (but then he'll manipulate you with it so you don't let him). It's twisted, but you'll never see him so wild.

Submissive: This is the best thing you could do. Give him submission, both sexual and real. You'll have him in the palm of your hand; he likes it a lot. He doesn't want you to say no, he doesn't want limits, he doesn't want you to see him as someone else. He wants to be your owner, your real owner. He wants to pick out your clothes, he wants you to treat him the way he wants, and if you ask him for something with those conditions, he won't want to say no. Just say it gently, as if you need it, and maybe he'll break you more slowly.

Erotic dance: Go for it. He's a man who enjoys a good show. It doesn't matter if it's perfect as long as you maintain your submissive persona. Just move a little, look at him with lustful eyes, and kneel when you're done. He'll applaud you gracefully and with one movement, he'll lift you onto his lap. He'll be a little wild; if you dance with clothes on, he won't like it and will rip them off. He'll enjoy it more if you're not wearing anything.

Ticci Toby

Body Worship: It would be mutual, I think. But his intentions aren't good; he wants you to understand that he's the only one who sees you that way. He'll adore you, and while everything he tells you might be true, he'll exaggerate it so you feel in control and never have to think about the messed-up shit you're in. He'll be so good that no one will ever compliment your body like that, and he'll convince you that no one else will, because no one has ever had you like he has.

Praise Kink: Praise him, really. It's the only way to have any control. But be careful, because if you do it in a moment of self-loathing, it could backfire. As long as he doesn't know you might be overdoing it, he'll swallow it all. Your every word. When you fight, he might call you a liar and a creep, but he'll want you to praise him like you do on hot nights. It would be dangerous, but you'd like it.

Fear Kink: He wants to be in control. He doesn't want to be abandoned. He'll like it when you're scared of him, because it means he could take you even if one day you realize how messed up he is. As long as you're with him, he'll never hurt you, but he'll always like to know that you're a little afraid of him. He wants you to kneel and beg for his forgiveness, to ask for something only he can give you and grovel.

[ninathekillxr]

When they like you

Creepypasta

Headcanons

Thought this would be kinda cute :D

Ticci Toby

- 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞

- 𝙶𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝.

- 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚊𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏

- 𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 (𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜, 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚎𝚌𝚝)

Eyeless Jack

- 𝙰𝚠𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔

- 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝

- 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜

- 𝙻𝚘𝚠𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Bloody Painter

- 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

- 𝙰𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚛

- 𝙰𝚠𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛

- 𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚑𝚛 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚜

Jeff The Killer

- 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢

- 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

- 𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝

- 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎

Jane The Killer

- 𝙳𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐.

- 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜!

- 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢𝚊𝚙 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚜

- 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Clockwork

- 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

- 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

- 𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜

- 𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚗

Nina The Killer

-𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢

- 𝙳𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑

- 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛

- 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚊𝚙 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

BEN DROWNED

- 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚢𝚜

- 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝟹𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛

- 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞

- 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎

Masky/TimWright

- 𝙷𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞

- 𝙰𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎

- 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚛

- 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒���𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢𝚊𝚙 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚖

Hoodie/BrianThomas

- 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

- 𝙵𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛

- 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞

- 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜~

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈 𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙶𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂𝚂- 𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜! 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚌𝚕!

𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚘𝚞𝚝!

[acexsmhking]

Thinking about Tim smoking cigarettes outside after a stressful day and you’re sucking him off because you missed your husband. He has one hand on your head, fingers combing out your hair looking at you with nothing but pure love. “Atta girl.”

[rainrot4me]

Outrun, Undone

Summary: Your body hurt, heaving and clawing to escape. They were catching up, laughter echoing through the dense trees as you ran, praying for your stamina to hold. But you knew you weren’t fast enough, and so did they…

Characters: Masky & Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Chasing, predator and prey, primal sex, blood, injury, fear, threesome, double penetration, vaginal fingering, anal, blowjob, vaginal, overstimulation, power play, fighting, aggression, mocking, degradation, forced submission, pussy spanking, oral fixation

Words: 8.2k

Fight or flight is described as an instinctual reaction that occurs when the body perceives a threat, rallying for survival.

Psychologically, it changes you, gripping for any out or sense of security as it pushes its own comfortability. It’s primal, animalistic, and desperate; mind clawing for any serenity. Your mind and body were screaming, like every inch of your consciousness was being ripped apart the harder you fought. You wanted to cry and scream and get away, but they wouldn’t let you. They were going to make sure you lost this bet.

The ground was damp, mulch and rocks lodged into your knees as you clattered to the dirt, heaving for breath. You didn’t remember which direction you were trying to go, but it didn’t matter as you pushed your aching body up, lunging back into a sprint. Rain and fog blurred your senses, the stout smell of wet earth suffocating you with every labored gasp. 

The woods felt like they went on forever, large pines and ominous maples cutting off your direction and forcing you into a maze, the schlick of mud under your shoes echoing with every quick step. You were soaked with sweat and rain, hair clinging annoyingly to your face and blocking your vision. Your clothes felt heavy on your skin, making it hard not to get overstimulated and tired. “Fuck-” You gasped, rounding a mound of roots to find a patch of brambles, head spinning and looking for another direction. The loud thumping of boots was heavy behind you, branches and leaves snapping as you heard hollers paired with eager laughter calling out your name, searching for you. There was no other direction. You hauled forward.

It was your fault, really. You roused them on, claiming stealth and agility were better tactics for a killer than brute force and power. The boys chuckled, arms crossed and stupid grins shining as they teased. It was always so odd to see them without their masks, especially in such good moods. 

“Oh yeah? And who says that?” Masky poked at you, leaning back into the door of the rental truck you had all lived in for the past week. This mission was exhausting, another hitman job for the Operator that you really couldn’t bring yourself to be passionate about. The boys weren’t too thrilled either. Sleeping cramped into a single cab as the only girl was devastating. The smell of no showers and lack of proper meals was getting to you now, a two-day headache pounding at the base of your skull and making you nauseous. At least they let you have the back seat to yourself.

“Uh, says the one who’s gunned down more than both of you?” You scoffed, kicking some gravel from the campsite parking lot. “Don’t you ever notice how I’m the one having to pick off the stragglers when you two come in guns blazing? I swear, you two only think with your revolvers instead of your actual brains.” 

Hoodie chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the truck bed. “These brains don’t do much thinking anymore anyways.” You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” Looking out across the field meant for hunting, a dense treeline hung just over the clearing as the sun began to set, deep oranges and pinks pushing through the leaves. You couldn’t remember what state you were in, somewhere north and cold, early autumn setting in as the breeze whipped against your cheeks. It was going to rain tonight, you could see it in the way the leaves upturned, the thick smell of distant downpours on the bark stirring in the air. “Just saying. I could outrun you both and still have the energy to take down someone. You two wouldn’t last a second without your precious little weapons strapped to your hip.”

The boys tensed, eyes narrowing as they looked at each other, a silent challenge welling up. “How about a game then? Put your little stealth tactic to the test.” Masky huffed, a stupid grin matching the eagerness in his eyes. Hoodie nodded along, pushing off the truck bed as he stepped closer, his boots crunching into the gravel. 

“The woods out there. It’s only about fifty acres worth, but it’s dense. Good enough for hide and seek, huh?” Hoodie’s voice sounded a little more chipper than his usual monotonous one, laced with excitement and almost giddy. “We’ll give you ten minutes, put your money where your mouth is. If we can’t find you, we’ll buy you a hotel room for the rest of the trip.” You glared, heart thumping at the idea of finally getting a shower and some heat, fingers fidgeting at your sides. “But, when we catch you, and we will, who knows what we’ll ask for?” Masky shrugged cockily. “Guess we’ll be thinking about it while you’re runnin’.”

The boys pressed forward, shoulder to shoulder as they stared down at you, nauseating smiles making your heartache. You glanced back to the tree line. Crossing your arms, you rolled your eyes, stupidly accepting their bet. You were going to win, you knew you were, but all they could do was smile. “Ten minutes starts now, sweetheart.” Hoodie fiddled with his old-style military wristwatch, wiping the glass as he clicked some buttons to start a timer.

“So I just… start runni-”

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…” You tensed, taking steps back before spinning on your heels, zipping your jacket up as you began to run, slipping into the trees.

-

When you began to run, that’s when the excitement truly swept in. 

The ten minutes had long passed, your feet carrying you deep into an unfamiliar forest where every tree looked the same. But you had to keep going, if for nothing else, then to create distance.

It was getting too dark to see, the sun hanging low on the horizon and dense night setting in. The silhouettes of trees stretched ahead, endless in every direction. There was no trail or path to follow, only the thick underbrush and ferns that whipped at your legs as you ran, branches scratching your skin. You had no clue where you were going.

The rain had begun as well, thick droplets soaking your clothes and face, making your hair cling to your skin. Your legs burned, muscles tensing as you dodged trees, mud clinging to your shoes the further you went, your breath already quickening. When you reached a small clearing, you paused, catching your breath as you searched the shadows, listening intently for any signs of movement. Nothing caught your attention besides the heavy patterns of rainfall, leaves, and branches whipping in the wind as you set off again, catching your pace. 

Adrenaline couldn’t differentiate this from real danger. You dealt with these boys every day, watching how they worked and killed, studying their every move. But now that you were on the other side of the fight, there was no clue just how real they were going to make it. You knew they wouldn’t kill you. They were all for bets, but they weren’t sore losers. They might catch you, they might hurt you, but they wouldn’t kill you. And, somehow, that excited you.

There was something so rousing about playing the victim for once. It made you feel vulnerable and small, but oh did it make you desperate.

Climbing over a fallen pine and sliding down the short ridge beyond it, you crouched close to the ground, pressing close to the roots and bushes as you caught your breath again. You had to think one step ahead, had to conserve your energy; any chance for a break was a good one. They wanted a chance, so you’d give them a chase. But you had to be smart too.

Snap.

You froze, slow breaths shaking as the condensation fogged at your mouth. You clenched close to the ground, careful not to move as you heard the thumps of boots more clearly now, a matching pair. You clenched your jaw, bracing your hands against the side of a tree as their voices grew too.

“Come on, little mouse,” Masky called out, the giddiness in his voice making you cringe. “You’re not very good at hiding your tracks.” Shit. The rainfall had roused the ground with mud, your imprints being left everywhere and leading right to where you crouched. You had to move.

Rain and sweat dripped off your nose, teeth clenched as you shook, the cold breeze cutting against your skin. Your pupils blew wide as you scanned the ground, snaking your body up quietly as you took eager steps in the opposite direction of the boys. The mud squelched, your body aching as you pushed off the tree, steadying your pace back into a jog to not make too much noise. You heaved, letting your pace grow the further you got, the small steps turning into a desperate sprint as you whipped through the trees, the wind burning your cheeks raw. You were panting, sucking deep breaths of air, and fighting against the strain in your chest.

“There!” You cursed, Hoodie’s voice ringing through the trees as you sprinted, fists clenched as you dug your feet into the ground. In your attempt to get away, you had done exactly what you wanted to avoid, catching their attention. You heard the sound of their boots taking heavy steps in the distance, far enough but definitely still too close for comfort. Your heart thumped, adrenaline pumping. You tried to look back, to gauge just how far they were, just how fast you needed to run. You couldn’t see when your ankle snapped against a root popped from the ground, flinging your body down.

The ground was damp, mulch and rocks lodged into your knees as you clattered to the dirt, heaving for breath. You didn’t remember which direction you were trying to go, but it didn’t matter as you pushed your aching body up, lunging back into a sprint. Rain and fog blurred your senses, the stout smell of wet earth suffocating you with every labored gasp. You groaned, palms and clothes covered in mud and grass, your chest aching from the abrupt contact. The boys howled with excitement, their chanting and loud laughs making you nervous, and desperate to get away. The worst part, however, was the fact they had now put on their masks.

The three of you had grown comfortable, there was no desire to cover their faces around each other, saving the covers for jobs. But now, the stupid masks were snugged on, concealing their expression and making this situation all the more terrifying. Now, you realize they saw you as a job, a mission to catch and take, no longer just a little game. You wanted to cry, the anger shooting through your veins as you ran, heaving for air and distance, your brain screaming to get away. They were going to catch you.

You were so used to being on the other side. You were the one chasing, the one seizing runaways. But, something about being the one having to get away, the thought of you fighting within an inch of your life against your friends. It got you stirred in the worst kind of way.

You sprinted, half-running half-sliding down the steepening slope, your shoes catching on vines and mud as you went. You had no clue where you were going or why the terrain was suddenly changing, but you continued to press forward, feet flinging out from under you as you sprinted. The slope picked up, rocks and thicker soil breaking under your steps, clattering down the side of the hill you were pressing down, leaning back to claw into the mud as you lost your footing, pummeling down. Your foot caught on a root, hauling your shoe off your foot and snapping your body with it.

You met the clearing at the bottom face-first.

You landed hard, a thick stream of water splashing against your face as you gasped. The air knocked from your lungs, rolling onto your back as the water flowed around you, the tiny stream picking up from the rain. Rocks and moss stuck to your clothes, your teeth grit as your chest ached. You had to get up, you had to keep running.

But the chuckles from above you made you whine, footsteps crunching down the muddy slope as they paced just out of your sight. “Aww, think before you run. Don’t go panicking now.” You could hear the smile in Hoodie’s voice despite your dizziness. 

Out of pure adrenaline, you shoved yourself up, looking towards the slope, but finding nothing there. You spun on your heels, surveying the trees and sides of the hill, nothing sticking out. You hissed, looking down towards your hands as dirt sunk into the cuts, your palms torn and bleeding down your wrists, mixing with the rain. Your socks were soaked with mud, your feet aching and pounding with pain as your foot had been welted raw. But you couldn’t find them. For how large and annoying they were, you couldn't find them. You had to keep moving.

Turning away from the slope, you dug your heels in, pushing away from the stream. It was hard to focus, hard to keep your mind from spinning as you clawed, legs burning every step they ran. Your head felt light, too nauseated to notice the flash of yellow in your direction. 

A hand seized around your throat from behind, the other gripping into your hair as you cried out. You flung, fighting back against the tight grasp Masky held, kicking your knees. How the hell had he gotten to you? You swung your arms, reaching back to claw at the fists wrapped around you, elbow flying back to make contact with his ribs.

Masky gasped, grunting heavily as how grip loosened, reaching for his side. You slammed back hard, taking the opportunity to shove your shoulders back, knocking the brunette off balance and releasing you. In the process, you took the chance, sprinting away and pressing through the rain, gasping as you heard his yells behind you.

Gripping the side of another steep hill, you clawed at the roots and rocks protruding from the side, launching yourself up the side of the ravine and scrambling up onto flat ground above. Your socked foot caught on a rock, slicing through the fabric and through to your skin too, making you hiss and clench your jaw. Don’t look back, don’t stop, don’t be afraid-

Hoodie grunted as you slammed into him, chest knocking against him so hard you landed flat on your ass. He wasn’t so easy, not allowing you to get back up as the taller man pinned you down. You thrashed wildly, arms and legs flailing as his fists gripped your jacket, raising your chest to slam you back down against the ground, knocking the breath from your lungs. You gasped, tired arms reaching up to claw at his hoodie, tugging the soaked cloth, and trying to reach his skin. Hoodie laughed, his fingers digging into your sides as you groaned, panting your exhaustion. Masky was following behind, grappling up the side of the hill and chuckling his amusement. You were panicking, flailing under the man as you whined. 

“Didn’t last very long at all, huh?” Hoodie mocked, pushing your legs out of the way as you tried to kick him, your hands still clawing. The man just pressed harder, reaching up to clench your jaw, angling your head closer to the ground and into the mud. It was disgusting, your pants and whines making him smile as you gripped his hoodie, feeling for anything you could use.

When your fingers brushed his pistol holstered snugly against his side, you strained your jaw, reaching as far as you could. Hoodie was focused, eyes locked onto your face as his fingers clenched around your throat, tightening excruciatingly as you gasped, head already spinning. Your breathing was labored, the intensity of his grasp faltering your reach as you strained, the eagerness in his grasp making you dizzy.

You whined, pressing your shoulder down as you finally wrapped a finger around the end, tugging the weapon out of its holster. Masky was close now too, boots crunching in the mud as your vision blurred, rain and lack of oxygen snaking a darkness into the edges of your sight. You snagged a finger around the cold metal of the gun, hauling it up and bringing it down quickly, slamming against the side of Hoodie’s skull. His groan rang, his grasp on your throat letting free as he hauled back, gripping at the side of his head. 

You scrambled up, panting breaths of moist air as you pushed back in the mud, hauling yourself up. Masky tried to press in, your hands were quick to shoot up and aim the pistol, a finger placed steadily on the trigger. The man stopped, mockingly holding his hands up and laughing, angling his head to the side in amusement.

“What? Is the little mouse scared now? What happened to all that big talk earlier?” You cringed, panting loudly as puffs of condensation clouded around your mouth. You were shaking wildly, mud and rain crusted deep into your clothes and skin, soaking you to your core. “I thought this was some game, not a real chase.” You grit your teeth, snarling your desperation through angered words. 

Hoodie was up now, looming close to Masky’s side as he watched, an expression showing he was ready to pounce. He wanted more, you could see it in the way his fingers flexed and palmed against his jeans. You shook, keeping the pistol aimed between both of them. You didn’t give them a chance to get to you again. Turning on your heels, you lunged into another sprint, chest, and legs aching at the sudden burst. The boys latched on, not giving a second thought before chasing behind you, desperately trying to match your pace. You were faster than them, but there was no way you would be able to beat them again physically. With a hurt foot and weakened body, they would overpower you in an instant.

Mocking chants and laughs echoed loudly behind you, the rain and wind snapping at your skin. You limped through every step, trying to keep a good pace as the pain began to sink in, mud clinging against your cuts. Your mind was racing, excitement and pent-up energy exerting themselves in every ache and stretch. So many times on missions you were forced into uncomfortable situations, clawing and begging to prove yourself, to show just how useful you were. 

But now, you weren’t chasing anymore. You were the one running, the one begging and sobbing to be shown mercy. Masky and Hoodie weren’t capable of mercy, they didn't know the meaning of the word. So now, the role flipped on its head, you were truly aware of just how much you needed to get away.

You swung your arm around as you felt bodies close in, gripping the pistol tight and aiming high as you took a shot. An ear-piercing ricochet rang through the trees. Curses shouted, loud gasps as the bullet whizzed past their heads, and maniacal laughter soon followed. “Shit, Hood! Mouse’s got some bite!” Masky panted, exhausted tone showing as he continued to run. Hoodie growled his approval, grappling off of trees and closing in again. You’d been a fool to think they’d scare so easily. Of course, your violence would just get them more excited.

Clattering across a stretch of gravel and mud, you cursed, the gash in your foot screaming with pain. The limp caused you to be ill-timed, Masky taking the falter and seizing you, your bodies clattering to the nasty ground.

Masky chuckled, your hair knotted in his hand as he forced you onto your chest. Your fingers dug into the mud, desperately trying to push yourself up as you flailed, pistol gripped tight. Limbs burned, lungs gasping for air as you felt a knee press between your shoulder blades before you could move. He crushed you against the gravel harder and harder. Masky pressed down close, dragging your head to the side so he could groan into your ear. Hoodie was already on you too, the sole of his boot crushed atop your hand to pry the pistol away, tossing it a few feet away. Masky’s knee pressed hard, the mask covering his expression, but you could hear his excitement all too well.

“All that running just for us to still catch you, little mouse. I say we deserve some compensation for all that work.” You clenched your teeth, tears welling in your eyes not only from the exhaustion that was creeping in but from the terrible pain shooting through your body. Everything hurt, sleepiness hanging on every limb. They must have noticed as the Hoodie knelt down beside your head.

He caressed his fingers over your skin, marveling at the softness of your cheeks cool with the rain, before nudging your jaw with his fist. “I think I know a pretty good reward, eh?” His hoodie was soaked, the usual mustard color a dark brown as Masky loosened his grip on your hair, tugging your shoulder over as his knee lifted. You tried to gauge their expressions and understand what they were so giddy about as you lay on your back, face, and clothes splattered with mud and rain. “I’d say I have to agree with you there, man.”

As Masky stood, you tried to sit up before large pairs of hands shoved you back to the ground. Your bodies pressed close, Hoodie wedging himself against your side as Masky gripped your arms, pressing them down against the rocks. That’s when you felt it, the heat in his jeans pressed against your hip, your skin exploding with warmth. You tried to look through his mask into his eyes, shimmying your hips as Hoodie did the same, gripping the side of your face to keep your head down. They were overpowering you, binding you down to submit, forcing you to stop. You didn’t want to. They wanted a fight, and you weren’t so willing to lay down and take it.

“Keep moving your hips like that and watch what happens.” Masky barked, snaking a knee between your legs as he pressed close, breathing muffled as he held you. Your body was useless, their arms and hands gripping tight and hauling you close, gasps ringing at every fist tightening. “You’ve lost, alright? Just fuckin’ give up.” Hoodie jerked your jaw, pressing your shoulder to the ground as you kicked your legs, Masky’s knee slid up against your core and held it there even when you squirmed. “Even after all that runnin’ you’ve still got energy? Fuck.” Masky angrily laughed, tugging at your jeans and undoing the buttons, your heart immediately jumping from your chest.

“Masky-” Hoodie clasped a hand over your mouth, tugging your body up against his own as he pressed beside you. Masky let go of your hands, Hoodie quick to take them in one hand, and hold them above your head as the latter worked on shimmying your pants off of your thighs. The rain made you twitch as drops hit your bare skin. “We won, remember? Gonna have to show you just what girls with big egos get, yeah? You could use a little humbling…” The hooded man smiled, snaking a hand around your throat and clamping down, your airway choking closed as you gasped. It felt like a rush, every inch of your body overwhelmed as they gripped at your skin. You were falling apart, fighting and fear leaving your body, anxiousness and excitement slowly creeping in the lower Masky’s hands dipped against your thighs.

“Every inch of you is a tease.” He snapped, your muddy jeans discarded as fingers dug into your skin. The man acted ravenous, fingernails clawing against your damp skin as he nudged himself between your legs, your head swaying lightly as Hoodie pushed his grip on your throat harder. “Been dying to get a good look.”

You couldn’t deny how many times you caught them staring. Every time you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in the creek or laid out in the truck's backseat to get some rest, their eyes lingered, awkward silence hanging in the air. It was obvious now. That same ravenous look was caught behind the eyeholes of their masks, your heart skipping as Masky hooked his fingers into the waistline of your panties. Jerking against Hoodie’s grasp on your wrists, you let your back arch off the ground, panting against the fingers gripped onto your throat as Masky slowly slid the cloth down. 

Rain soaked your face as Hoodie took his time sliding a hand up your shirt, palming at your moist skin and dragging your jacket off of your shoulders. “You’ve always had such a loud mouth, y’know that? It’d be nice to see it occupied with other things.” Hoodie chuckled, letting his fist off of your throat to slide up to your lips, your gasps and coughs music to his ears. He was quick to slide two fingers past your teeth, shoving them down to the knuckle and pushing down your tongue. You gagged, head rearing back but his fingers followed, pressing down into your throat with a cough. He let go of your wrists, snaking a fist into your hair as he held his fingers still, your throat constricting around the digits as you reached back to grip his hoodie, tugging him closer. Masky watched close, your warm cunt throbbing as the cold air ran goosebumps across your skin.

“Christ.” Masky hummed, pressing your knees apart as he adjusted himself between them, his cock constricting tight against his jeans. He slid your folds apart with his thumb, swiping the digit through your wetness and spreading it, smiling at the way your hips instinctively jerked. You whined, senses overwhelmed as you choked again, gagging as Hoodie began to pump his fingers. “If you can’t even take my fingers, how are you supposed to take my cock? Do better.” Hoodie was so much more gruff than Masky, barking his command and pushing you further than you knew he could go. The man was always the quieter of the two, his shadow-like demeanor starkly contrasting Masky’s. So when it came to primal instincts, the two flipped like a coin. Masky took a much more silent authoritative stance, while Hoodie was all bark and bite. The two worked perfectly together, you realized, in murder and sex. Perfect contrasts no matter the circumstances.

Your cheeks shot red, your eyes watering the louder you heard him huff. You tried to let your throat relax, you tried to breathe steady. But when you felt a finger screw into your cunt, forcing its way into your hardly prepped warmth, you cried out. 

Masky’s nails dug into your thighs, his knees shoving your legs open as he twisted his middle finger, angling to press up against the gumminess of your walls. “So warm, damn…” He grunted, letting his thumb press against your clit and rub aching circles against the nub. Hoodie didn’t give you a moment, however. His fingers were soon tugged from your lips as he snagged your hair back, pushing your cheek against his jeans, face-to-face with his boner. How were you going to take that? You tried to stammer, tried to press your hands on his legs, but he was already undoing his belt. “Hoodie-” You hissed, your sentence cut off as you jerked your hips up when another finger crammed itself into your tight cunt, digits spreading and scissoring you loose. Your eyes shot back and forth, focused on fingers tugging down their zipper but also on the hungry way fingers dug into your folds.

You were overwhelmed, the rain and wind snapping at every naked part of your body and sending chills. And the boys were eating you alive. 

“Wait, please- I’m sorry! Ah! I was wrong okay-” Hoodie’s palm was back around your mouth, your pants and whines muffled behind the hand as he tugged his jeans down with his boxers. Your eyes shot wide when he tugged his cock out, shoving his waistband below his balls and giving his length a few good tugs. Masky chuckled, pressing the heel of his palm down onto your clit as he rhythmically curled his fingers up, your cunt soaking them. “If you’re so sorry, then show it, sweetheart.” You gawked at the girth wrapped in Hoodie’s fist, unsure of how you were even supposed to take half of that in your mouth. But take it you would. It didn’t matter if you screamed, bled, or passed out, Hoodie was going to make sure you would melt on it.

You were trembling, as vicious as you were, you were excited. Hoodie and Masky could see it. They had no intention of hurting you, but they had every intention of breaking the little ego you held onto. You held their gaze, rain streaming down your face as you whined. “Open up.” The brunette didn’t give you much of a choice as he pressed his cock to your lips. You gasped around the tip, his hands wrapping into the back of your hair and pressing your head closer. Hoodie groaned as he went deeper, your throat convulsing around him with a barely suppressed gag. You felt like you were losing air, taking a last deep breath before Hoodie stopped, your lips wrapping tight around the middle of his girth. 

He held steady, Masky keeping you distracted with his fingers, but you couldn't fight the dizziness in your head. Hoodie drank up the way your eyes slammed shut, the way your hands gripped into his clothes and pawed for release; he couldn’t stand it. Masky couldn’t either.

When you caressed your tongue along the bottom side of his cockhead, Hoodie growled, fisting your hair tight. He snapped your head closer, pushing your throat open around his girth and tugging you back off quickly, snapping his hips back again to set a sickening pace. You choked, slobber pooling around your lips and glistening on his length as he fucked into your throat, giving you no time to breathe. You dug your nails into his hoodie, clawing for something to hold onto as he rattled your head. Every squeeze of your throat just spurred him on, the resistance only making him more eager to fuck you open and raw. “God, you must be real sorry, huh?” Hoodie growled, letting one hand shove up your shirt up and tug your bra off of your tits, gripping onto the mounds.

Masky watched, smiling wildly behind the mask as his cock throbbed against his jeans. Your cunt had soaked his fingers loose enough to slip another in, his free hand shimmying his belt undone and tugging his zipper down. The man took a shaky breath when his cock met the cold air, twitching and eager as he unscrewed his fingers from your cunt, surprised at the way your hips tried to follow them. The loud sound of slobber and gagging on Hoodie’s cock made Masky excited to hear more, pumping his cock in his fist covered with your arousal as he pressed a free hand back to your folds. “Don’t pass out now, little mouse.” 

You couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own head roaring, throat tensing and convulsing at every press of Hoodie length into your mouth. He was so rough, so aggressive in his actions, desperately clawing for more as if he had been begging for this for forever. You finally felt like you could get the hang of it, finding a good position for your mouth until-

Smack!

You nearly screamed when you felt a palm slap down on your cunt, snapping against your cunt and sending your hips shooting off of the muddy ground. Masky laughed, his fist jerking his cock as your eyes shot open, trying to pull your head back off of Hoodie’s length. He growled, snapping your head back down onto his cock and shoving your nose into his pubes, snapping at you to stay still. 

Masky raised his hand again, your stomach tightening as you watched through tear-beaded eyes when his palm made contact with your clit again. It stung, your throat grunting and sobbing as Hoodie gripped either side of your head in his hands, fucking his hips into your warm mouth. You tried to press your thighs shut, Masky shoving them apart as he slapped again, spanking your cunt and grinning at the squelch. Pained whines muffled around Hoodie’s cock as he rubbed his fingers against your clit before hauling his hand up, smacking back down to watch your hips jerk. You dug your heels into the dirt, trying to press away, but Masky’s hands were already gripped around your hips and tugging you back.

Your head was light, oxygen barely seeping through as Hoodie completely ignored your wails, hips jerking, and balls slapping against the side of your face the deeper you drank his cock down. “So good…” He muttered, gasping as he hunched over your head, driving his hips at an exhausting pace. Your jaw hurt, eyes raw with tears as you lulled your tongue against the underside of his length to desperately hurry his orgasm along.

Your mouth was so full, so warm and tight, and took the brunette the best you could. Hoodie whined when he felt his balls tighten and abdomen tense, ecstasy shooting through his body as he throbbed in your mouth and spilled down your throat. You clung to his hoodie, unable to swallow as quickly as he pumped into you, cum and slobber dribbling down your chin. You gasped as you felt the intrusion leave your mouth, desperately trying to catch your breath as seed dripped down your chin. Masky didn’t give you time, barely able to swallow before you felt a tension pushing into your cunt.

“I think you still owe me an apology, right?” The man between your legs chuckled, pushing your hips down to the soaked ground as he slowly sunk in, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. Hoodie was panting, wringing the last of his orgasm from his cock as he hauled your head up, craning your neck to face him. He shoved his mask up, the fabric bunching at his brow as his flushed cheeks glistened with sweat. You whined as you felt Masky’s cock press deeper, your walls throbbing around him as Hoodie caught your lips, breathing deep as he panted into your mouth.

“Mmn, fuck-” Masky chirped, raising your ass off the ground as he pressed against your tightness, sinking into your gooey warmth. Hoodie ravaged, gripping your jacket and shaking it off your arms, fingers tugging at your shirt until you could hear the seams popping and snapping. Masky bottomed out, you gasp giving Hoodie enough access to shove his tongue past your lips and suck on your own. Groans and whines swapped, Masky watched, stomach twirling with arousal.

He slowly tugged his hips back, your thighs trembling as you peeked out, groaning when you watched Masky slide his own mask off of his face, the object clattering into the mud. His hips didn’t get far before they snapped back, nails tugging your hips back to meet with a stifled moan. Hoodie shuffled behind you, adjusting himself to your back pressed against his chest as Masky started his drowsy pace into your puffy cunt. You whimpered with every inch, panting desperately. Your pussy gripped him tightly as Masky pressed all the way inside—before withdrawing completely and plunging back in again. You screamed, the sound choked with frantic need as Hoodie replaced his lips with his fingers again. Masky pulled your hips back, fucking mindlessly until your knees tightened around his sides. He snaked a hand between your legs and rubbed your clit, grinning as you shook from head to toe and went limp against Hoodie’s chest, the pleasure shattering you.

“Too much, little mouse?" You managed to shake your head, defiant little thing. Masky snapped his hips again, pace slowly and sickeningly increasing, thrusts getting harder but not faster. You mewled, sucking on Hoodie’s digits as he played with your nipples, massaging your tits with every heave of your chest. “Don’t get needy now, sweetheart,” Hoodie noted the way your hips craned to meet Masky’s every move, stomach tightening to get a better grip around his cock. You groaned, flexing your hands as they both laughed at your desperation. You were irritated. They wanted badly to ruin you, to make you theirs. But when it finally comes time for you to enjoy their part, they won’t let you. You felt yourself snap as you hauled your bodies forward.

Masky grunted as you shoved your hands against his chest, kicking your feet free from his hands and slamming the big guy on his back. Hoodie was quick to follow, stunned at the sudden movement but sure to find his place snagged onto your back as you straddled Masky again.

“You’re a fucking prick.” You groaned, pressing your nails into his face as your knees dug into the rocky mud-caked ground. You all were nasty, sweat and rain dripping from your brows but you were so horny it didn’t matter. 

Masky pressed back, tugging at your wrists to let off of his face. It was only when he shoved your jaw back did you saw the gleam of metal in the rain, the dark pistol smeared with mud but close enough to grasp. You pressed forward, shoving Masky’s forehead down as he snapped, Hoodie gripping your hips to drag you back.

You tried to claw, to reach the gun, but the boys were stronger. “Little cunt. You never learn, huh?” Masky barked, gripping his cock tight as Hoodie angled your hips to sink back onto the length. You choked out when they slammed your hips together, Masky setting a brutal pace up into your cunt as Hoodie pressed you down, jerking his own growing cock now.

“I don’t know where you- ah- where you get this attitude from,” Masky growled into your ear, your chest pressing down against his as he quickly tugged his cock in and out of your drenched warmth. You whined through every echoed slap, the rain, and sweat making you both slippery, and every thrust of his hips reverberating off the density of the trees. You reached out, stretching your shoulder as far as it would go to reach the pistol just at your fingertips. You groaned, pressing your sore hands into the mud for one final stretch, your index brushing the metal and tugging it in your direction. 

“Fuck you.” You growled out, tugging the gun into your hand and turning to aim it at the side of Masky’s temple. You wanted a reaction, for his pace to hesitate or his eyes to stutter, but they never did. He just kept tugging your hips down, mercilessly shoving the air from your lungs with every press of his cock against your sore walls. Your noses brushed as you stared deep into the other’s eyes, a silent challenge. If anything, he went faster.

Hoodie chuckled behind you, letting his cock slide between your ass cheeks every time they bounced in Masky’s cock. He was grunting, pressing your lower back down to get a better arch out of you. “Cute.” He smiled.

Masky glanced, acknowledging the weapon pressed so aggressively against the side of his head, but keeping his attention on you. You wanted to yell, to tug the trigger just enough to watch fear creep in, but your thoughts got abruptly lost.

Masky let your hips go, tugging a fist into your hair as he slammed your lips together. You grunted into the kiss, anger fuming between the two of you and tearing your resilience apart. The kiss was aggressive, teeth snagging on lips and tongues shoving against cheeks as Hoodie took his chance to rest his hands on your hips. “Shit.”

Hoodie tugged his cock back, your hips riding Masky on their own and setting your own pace, cunt gushing and squelching at every move. You hadn’t even cum yet, and the desperation was getting to you. 

“Stick your tongue out.” Hoodie reached between you two, cutting your kiss short as he selfishly shoved two fingers into your mouth, Masky growling at the loss. The brunette just laughed, a cheeky grin flashing as he tugged his fingers back, swiping them between your asscheeks.

You hissed, hips stuttering their pace as you felt Hoodie press his index finger against your asshole, swirling the muscle eagerly. “Hoodie.” You grit, craning your neck to look back at him, Masky letting his hand fall to your upper thighs. The brunette smiled, slowly nudging his index finger through the tight ring and making you sit up straight. Masky growled, reaching up to wrap his arm around you, tugging your shoulders back down, your neck in a headlock against his chest.

He slowly began to thrust his hips up again, achingly slow to distract from the feeling of Hoodie stretching your asshole. You wanted to growl, to fight back, but your eyes just rolled. Masky smiled as he watched the pistol slowly slip from your grasp, clattering back against the gravel as he fucked lazily up into your cunt, the warmth a lot more gooey than before. You could feel your abdomen flutter, clit brushing against Masky and sending your thighs tensing. “Please…" you moaned. "Coming… make me come…”

Hoodie craned his index, stretching the rim of your asshole and jerking your ass apart. Masky’s breath startled, resilience cracking as you came on his cock, cunt tightening and throbbing around his length. You convulsed, breath hitching as they brought you to your peak, shuddering violently in Masky’s arms. He couldn’t take it, he had to pull out.

You moaned out, whining when Masky slipped from your cunt and groaned loud, regaining his composure. Hoodie still worked your ass, the sting and stretch were painful but strangely so addicting. He let a second finger tease the rim, your hips sensitively jerking against the feeling as another finger slowly sunk into your ass. Your cunt clenched on nothing, tensing through your orgasm before Masky realigned himself, squeezing his cock back in. He could’ve come from how warm and gummy your walls were after cumming. 

“You ready for both, mouse?” You felt dizzy, head straining as Masky kept a hold on your neck, locking you down against his chest. You tried to nod, mumbling your eagerness as Hoodie successfully pressed another finger past your rim, your whine making them grin. The brunette gave you a few good tugs before pulling his fingers out, stroking his length as he pressed the tip to your rim. You groaned against Masky’s chest, biting into the cloth of his shirt as he thrust his hips, trying to give you a good duality as Hoodie slowly pressed in.

It stung, the stretch and fullness making your fingers grip into anything you could get, nails indenting into Masky’s sides. Hoodie cursed, fingers digging into the mounds of your ass and tugging them apart, trying his best to sink in through the constraint. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re tight as hell- shit-” You sobbed through the tension, trying your best to relax as both of your holes slowly filled, your abdomen swirling with waves of arousal. You felt dizzy, panting in Masky’s scent as Hoodie finally snapped in the rest of the way, the stretch making tears spill down your cheeks.

“Fu… Fuck me…” You choked out, craning your hips just enough to make Hoodie whine, nails cutting into your hips. The boys got the hint, Masky slowing down his pace to match Hoodie’s stuttered one, the brunette fighting against the constraint of your ass while he bluntly thrust. You moaned anyways, Masky’s cock snagging your g-spot and ramming there, his grin telling. He couldn’t resist leaning forward to steal a kiss again, biting into your plump lips. 

Hoodie couldn’t get over your mouth, however. He needed to be in that warmth again. So, he leaned forward, pressing his fingers against the side of your cheek and pressing them into the corner of your mouth, Masky tensing at the foreign taste. He looked like he was going to say something, but you shut him up with a plop of your hips, raising your ass up to fuck against Hoodie’s cock and ride right back down onto Masky’s. “Be nice.” You gasped as Hoodie curled his finger into the side of your cheek, tugging the skin back to make drool pool against your lips. Masky growled, rolling his eyes before snagging your lips again, loud groans and hisses panted into the other’s mouth. You felt so full, holes stuffed so nauseatingly well you could feel the way their cocks brushed together inside of you.

You could feel it again, the way your gut clenched. Masky clenched your thighs, his cock aching inside of you as Hoodie snapped his hips, riding close to the edge again. You tried your best to angle your hips back, giving them both the best angle to tug their cocks in and out. “‘M coming- Fuck! Please, please, please…” You panted through every snap of their hips, their cocks squeezing and stretching your holes so wide you knew you were ruined for anyone else. Your head was so tired, cunt throbbing and aching for release the harder they went, chasing their own.

“Pull out, Hoodie…” Masky choked, getting the last few thrusts he could as he felt you tightening, his cock teetering dangerously close to the edge. Hoodie whined, the tip of his cock popping in and out past your rim and dragging him closer too, both of the boys a whining grunting mess with you sandwiched between them. “Ma- Masky… Hoodie…”

Both of your holes clenched down as you came, the intensity of your orgasm washing over you so strongly that your eyes lulled to the back of your head. Your stomach twisted, the knot unraveling as you released on their cocks. Masky moaned lowly, biting into his lip as he forced his cock out of your swelled cunt, ropes of cum dripping from his tip as he stole your lips. Hoodie followed quickly, pushing your ass off of his cock as he started fisting his length quickly, pumping tight at the base to shoot his seed across your back. He whined through his orgasm, smearing his cum across your ass and lazily smiling at his work.

You all panted, shoulders slumped and bodies sore. You felt like you couldn’t move, every muscle inside and out aching from the exertion you had gone through.

Rain still poured, the chill seeping into your bones as you shook, water and sweat dripping from your nose. You felt so spent, cunt and ass ruined and throbbing wildly as you let your head go limp on Masky’s chest, the man grunting underneath you. “Fuck…alright, mouse.”

You were far too sleepy to care much as they shoved their limp cocks back into their jeans, everyone’s clothes soaked and cold as Hoodie wrapped his arms under your limbs, hauling you up. “C’mon, sweetheart…” Even they sounded tired. 

-

You slipped in and out of sleep on the way back to the truck, Masky collecting your items as they went and tossing everything into the bed as the engine roared. Hoodie laid you in the backseat, climbing into the passenger as Masky peeled back towards the interstate. You were too tired to ask where you were going.

You only stirred back when the obnoxious luminescent lights showed into the truck window, blinding you. You squinted, tossing your hand in front of the light as you sat up, the backseat suddenly opening.

“Don’t make me regret buyin’ this,” Masky growled as he tossed a blanket towards you, you just now realizing how nasty with mud you all were. You smiled as Hoodie helped you out, shuffling you close to his side as the boys dragged you around to the shabby door of the motel they had found. You flinched as you remembered your foot, the crusted blood and mud staining the underside of your sock as you limped through the rusty door.

It wasn’t anything nice, definitely not five stars.

But as you three tugged off your clothes and cleaned as much of the mud off as possible, it didn’t matter. The boys cringed at your cuts, mumbling their apologies and helping you clean them up, too. Exhausted, the three of you crawled into the way-too-small bed, the boys on either side of you as they cradled in, sticky and sore body parts finding their comfortable spaces. 

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was better than sleeping in the back of the truck. You smiled when their breathing labored, faces cradled into your shoulders while you slowly blinked your sleepiness away. You didn’t want to acknowledge what this night might mean for the future, at least not tonight. You’d much rather sleep.

But as Masky and Hoodie slid their arms around your torso, legs interlocking as you all finally relaxed, maybe it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

You’d have to learn to watch your tongue, though. For your sake.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thank you to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[just1cefor4ll]

MOOD BOARD;

TIM WRIGHT/MASKY 📹

[4kingz]

masky nsfw headcanons warnings : 18+ minors dni, rough sex, degradation, breathplay, manhandling, dubcon vibes, sadistic tendencies

Acts like he’s in control—because he has to be. Masky doesn’t just like control. He needs it. It’s not a kink, it’s a survival instinct. Every movement feels deliberate, like he’s trying to pin down the chaos in his head by pinning you down. His dominance isn’t showy or theatrical—it’s rigid, intense, and a little suffocating in the best way. You feel like you’re being handled, like every inch of you is being assessed, tested, and claimed.

Silence isn’t mercy. He’s not talkative in bed, not unless he’s whispering commands or low threats right into your ear. But the silence? It’s heavy. Charged. He watches you like you’re prey, and when he does say something, it’s sharp and cutting, designed to make your stomach drop and your thighs twitch. And if you try to get smart or bratty? He won’t yell. He’ll just tighten his grip on your jaw and say, “You’re not that cute when you talk.”

He’s not talking to you, but you’re the one he’s inside When he is more talkative, it’s not for you—it’s because he’s spiraling. Muttering about a fucked-up job, someone testing him, or how he messed up. His voice is low, bitter, angry, and it doesn't stop once it starts. He fucks through it. No eye contact, no softness—just tension bleeding into every thrust. His grip is bruising, rhythm punishing, like he's trying to outrun the noise in his head. You’re not the target, you’re the outlet. The tether. And when he’s like this, you feel everything he’s too angry to say.

Unrelenting. Calculated. And kind of a sadist. Masky isn’t a frantic fuck. He’s methodical. He takes his time like he’s solving a puzzle—except the puzzle is you, and the goal is to break you down piece by piece. He doesn’t rush to the finish; he drags it out, keeps you right on the edge until you’re shaking, begging, and losing your mind. The more you fall apart, the more satisfied he looks. There’s a glint in his eye when you cry a little—he lives for it.

Hands-on, always hands-on. He uses his hands like they were made to hold you in place. Around your throat, gripping your hips, yanking your head back—he grounds you with touch. He’s not afraid to manhandle you, and if you resist? That just makes it more fun for him. He’s not into “gentle correction,” nah. He’ll push you into position with a shove and growl “Stay.” If you move? That’s a whole new punishment.

You don’t fuck Masky. Masky fucks you. You don’t lead. You don’t set the pace. He does. You’re lucky if you even get to ask. But the flip side? He pays attention. He knows how to break you down, but also how to build you up exactly how you need. He won’t call it “care,” but when he wipes the tears off your face with his thumb or steadies your trembling legs post-orgasm? That’s his version of it. He’s not heartless—just wired to hide the softness under control.

He never really leaves. Even when it’s over, Masky’s energy lingers. He doesn’t do sweet cuddles or soft pillow talk, but he looms. Smoking outside your window. Sitting silently on the edge of your bed, fully dressed while you’re wrecked and naked. Watching you sleep, then disappearing before morning. He haunts more than he stays—but the space he takes up in your body, your head? That’s permanent.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling various CRP pretty boy

Yoinking this prompt from the slasher version of this post because i kind of enjoy this prompt a more than normal amount and I like feeding all my followers regardless of what fandom they follow me for

Characters: Slenderman, Masky, Hoodie, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer

Notes: reader is GN, written on mobile

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

He gives little to no reaction to you, as expected as a lot of forms of affection dont mean all that much to him

Not that he doesn't treat you with love and care, he does because he knows you like it

Receiving is just a little odd for him, possibly because it's so foreign to him- but at least he doesn't reject you!

Asides from his lack of response, there isnt much else to note! Over time he does begin to respond to it if you keep calling him that

MASKY

He doesnt talk all that much so the lack of verbal response doesnt surprise you all that much

He prefers being called handsome, if you insist on saying something about his looks

Mild confusion because hes never taken his mask off around you, the most hes done is lift it up to eat or kiss but even then...

Suspicious that you've peeked when he wasnt aware or conscious- probably not the best nickname

HOODIE

Doesnt talk at all, so once more the lack of verbal response doesnt come as a surprise

You haven't seen his face yet you call him pretty boy... you might actually be able to convince him to take his mask off for you so you can confirm if he really is a pretty boy

He does respond to the name and seems to at least enjoy it a little bit

Will occasionally ignore you until you call him pretty boy, not a common occurence though

TICCI TOBY

Mix of leaning into the name and calling you pretty in return, but I can also see him slightly rejecting it

He knows you mean it, more than likely- but hes so used to not being treated nicely that he cant tell if you're secretly making fun of him or not

Brings it up passively and hides it behind jokes but it's so obvious hes a little suspicious of you

Firmly reassure him that you really do think hes pretty, bonus if you point out specific parts of his face that you like!

EYELESS JACK

He considered himself average before the cult, nowadays he cant look in the mirror... though that's less of a self confidence thing and more of a trauma thing

He has mixed feelings about being called pretty boy, in general and due to the circumstances

Let's you continue calling him pretty boy, quietly keeps his thoughts to himself

He may grow onto it with enough time

LAUGHING JACK

Giddy, he already has the idea that hes cute but the thought that you think hes pretty really does it for him

Returns the energy and says he thinks you're really cute, he could just eat you up!

Takes the sudden nickname really well and adopts it as a new pet name between the two of you

He kind of perks up like a dog when you say a word they like around them

JEFF THE KILLER

Honestly he would expect you to call him pretty boy, though be doesnt need to remind you of something he already knows as fact

Pretty, handsome, cute, beautiful... call him any of those and hes going to let you know he already knew he was attractive

WILL notice if you stop calling him pretty boy, making it a habit... and you just stop calling him that out of the blue

A little huffy about it but hes going to act like hes not pressed about it- he doesn't want to come off as desperate for attention

[bambiimutt]

He makes you cry during an Argument.

Arguments with these boys? What could possibly go wrong..

ೃ࿔*:･

Headcannons and short stories under the cut!

ೃ࿔*:･

TW!! talk of Hoodie stalking, but not major! I think that’s it!!

Jeffrey Hodex:

- you’d think an argument with your boyfriend who loves you oh so dearly would hopefully end in him apologizing. Wanting to make sure he didn’t say anything to you to hurt you.. but you sometimes forget he’s not the normal person.

-Jeff has anger issues and it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s brought up. So typically with any argument he has, his anger tends to get the better of him.

-which means if the argument is small it’s bound to be blown out of proportion, if it’s a pretty bad argument it’s about to be even worse.

-he doesn’t like to listen. To him he’s always right. He’s never wrong even if deep down he knows he actually fucked up he doesn’t want to admit it because he doesn’t want to look “weak” or too “soft”

-he typically doesn’t feel bad if you end up getting hurt emotionally, you’ll get a good ol scoff and roll of the eyes while he tells you “it’s not that big of a fucking deal, you don’t need to be so emotional.” Along the lines of that.

-but… you might just tug a few heart strings when he realized he’s made you cry. It’s when he sees that he’s scared you that he breaks a little. He’s got a habit of punching walls, breaking shit around the house when you both argue, screaming in your face.. and if it all leads to you finally breaking down and shaking that’s where he finally draws his line.

-he didn’t mean to scare you.. not like that at least. The last thing he wants is for you to be scared of him. He loves you.. even if he shows it in odd ways. He’s an asshole yes but he’s your asshole.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Would you just fucking Listen!” Jeff screamed out. His hands were immediately gripping onto his pants, trying his damned hardest to not punch the closest thing to him. But he can’t help himself the moment you cross your arms and give him that fucking look. “Jeffrey. Cut it out, I’ve listened to you for the past 40 fucking minutes.. you need to listen to me-“ you’re cut off quickly hearing his hand collide with the wall and a loud grunt leaving his lips. He’s slightly heaving, breathing heavily and hair a bit messy in front of his face. You jumped a bit, backing up quickly when he immediately whipped around to trudge towards you, black combat boots making him taller then he already was. His large hand was quick to grab your jaw and squish your cheeks together just slightly. “No you fucking listen to me. Stop being a fucking bitch. Why do you have to pick at everything I fucking do, huh?! Huh?!” If he was a scrawny guy you’d say you’d be able to at least get free but no.. no he was a big guy, tall. Muscular, broad shoulders.. built chest. His biceps twitched slightly as his grip grew harder. There was no way you were escaping this. Not with him. Your small hands pushed at his arm and your eyes watered, a tear falling onto his fingers. Oh.. Jeff’s grip softened as he slowly let go. His form lowering himself so he was at your level. “Oh baby.. oh..” his hands hesitated before cupping your cheeks and his lips are kissing at the corners of your lips, trailing towards your ear. “I didn’t mean it..” his voice is deep, gruff and low in your ear as you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry..” really it’s the only time you’ll get a sorry out of him, a genuine one at that.

Tobias Rogers

- he’s one of the ones who’s a bit more understanding. He can’t exactly understand physical pain or frustration but he can completely understand emotional pain and anger.. and how fucking awful it can be to handle. So when he’s stood, tall and lanky in front of you, hands swinging in the air and his voice raising he can suddenly feel the room shift to a hurt.. deep cut feeling.

- he tries not to yell he tries to hear you out when you both have an argument, but having BPD can be an issue when it comes to that.. you say one thing in a slight tone and he’s set off. Oh? So this is his fault suddenly? Why did you have to say it like that? You could have said it this way. Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole?

-when in reality that’s not how you meant it at all.. and yes Toby does feel bad for it afterwards he shouldn’t have lashed out that way, he should have sat and listened and maybe asked why you said it that way.. but sometimes things get the better of us.

-he’s not always the one to apologize afterwards but he does when he knows he really fucked up. He can’t lose you not to something so fucking stupid. “I-I’m sorry.. you didn’t deserve to hear that.. to e-endure any of that..” with a sniffle you look up at him teary eyed. Oh that really hurts. “It’s okay Toby” he’s immediately at your side, hands brushing your hair back and placing gentle kisses to your jaw. It kills him when you cry.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t know Toby I’m just tired..” this is what set him off. The way you said it. You were tired? of this? Of him? Of this relationship? “Are you fucking serious?” He speaks with his teeth clenched together, his head resting in his hands before he’s looking up at your slowly. His body slightly twitches from time to time, though when he was angry it usually became an issue for him, twitching far too often, clearing his throat more aggressively. His tics would normally become more violent in some ways. “Are we just d-done then? That’s it just b-because you’re tired yo-you can’t fucking walk away-“ his arm flys up in the air as he stands, his hands coming to rub at his face and the patch of hair on his chin. His tired droopy eyes dart towards you. You didn’t necessarily start crying because he scared you it was more of the the stress of the situation. “Toby please that’s not what I meant.” He still hasn’t noticed as his tall figure is rambling on, tics making his occasional grip and smack to his leg but he of course can’t feel it. When he finally looks at you he realizes you’ve been crying and it stops. The room becomes quiet and he twitches a few more times before softly kneeling on the floor where you sat. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that.. I’m sorry..” he’s softly laying you down on the floor as his lips trail your neck, his hands placing your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles against your neck.

-Ben Lawman/drowned

- to be honest he’s probably not the one who started it. He’s usually pretty calm, and quiet…. Except for when he wants to act like a child and become ignorant and downright inappropriate.

-he can be perverted.. gross and this is usually where the arguments start, not that you don’t like him nor the way he acts it’s more when he says things he shouldn’t be saying. So you typically end up yelling at him and he will normally sit embarrassed and feeling a bit guilty.. he didn’t think you’d get so upset.

- on occasion if the argument isn’t about that and about something else he still is usually the one to just take it but there are rare moments where he snaps back. And when he does. Oh boy.

-constant pacing back and forth, hands in his hair, sharp glares at you and laughing in disbelief. He’ll sometimes say things he doesn’t mean. He’s usually not one to yell but when he does you aren’t really expecting it. So it scares you.. and the tears finally break.

- ben only stares for a moment. “Shit.” Yeah he fucked up big time. He immediately feels guilty and he immediately rushes towards you to pull you into a tight embrace. He didn’t mean to take it that far.. he really didn’t, knowing it was him who made you cry makes him want to break down himself.

ೃ࿔*:･

“You can hate me yknow, I won’t blame you, or be angry..” Ben mumbled against your hair, your sniffling shattering his dead heart even further. You look up at the blonde, your fingers lacing their way into his hair as you force a bit of a smile “I just.. I hate when we argue like that..” your voice breaks causing Ben to swallow. Oh no. There’s that lump in his throat. His hands rub at your back before feeling his way towards your lower half, squeezing gently. “I know babe. Don’t listen to me when I get like that yeah?” You give a gentle smile as he softly lifts you up, bringing you closer as he grabs his controller, getting ready to play his game and have you relax against him. Occasionally he’ll presses kisses to your forehead. He doesn’t like to talk about the arguments, maybe because he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions and yours at the same time or maybe he’s just scared it’ll lead to another argument, but he apologized like he always does and makes sure your comfy against him while he games. As long as you’re content with it, he’s content.

-Masky/ Tim Wright

- a bit like Jeff I just think he’s a bit more mellow, he won’t ever apologize unless he knows he’s actually in the wrong. Which ends up being majority of the time. You know he has his episodes, where he blacks out and doesn’t remember a lot of the things he ends up doing.

- he will sometimes black out during an argument. It’s not often but when he does it’s like arguing with a brick wall. Like Jeff he won’t listen. He refuses to listen to anything you say because In the moment he’s the one who’s right. But he’ll never go as far to say mean things like Jeff does. No Tim tends to stop himself before he does.

-he storms off frequently. I think he more or so hates the emotions that comes with this. He hates the yelling, the way you look at him with disbelief and anger.. Its more so he doesn’t feel like fucking shit up for being an asshole to someone who genuinely cares about him. So he leaves you to your emotions to figure out, and if they aren’t figured out by the time he gets back he tries his best to help. Even if he does seem annoyed.

- typically your arguments are more him being snarky, sarcastic and being too logical, he can raise his voice from time to time but he’s only ever yelled at you once, and he still beats him self up for it to this day. Seeing you cry at how angry he got, how you still reached out for him in your meltdown caused by him.. and you still reached for him.

ೃ࿔*:･

“They’re pills y/n, prescription pills. I’ll be fine you know I need to take them. Why do I need to keep telling you thi-“ you cut him off quickly your voice already laced with concern as it shook. “Because you take more then you should be taking Tim. I don’t like it I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” he understood where you came from yes but what you needed to do was stop it. Just stop worrying about him. “Please for the love of god, I’m fine! I’m fucking fine! I’ll be fine! Please just stop it. I hate how much you worry and stress yourself over me. They’re fucking pills, I take them when needed. So just stop!” Now he didn’t scream super loud, but it was loud enough for you to feel the lumpy tingly feeling in your throat bubble, your hands softly twisting together “s-sorry..” you squeaked out. Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip quivered. He watched you carefully for a moment, grimacing a bit as he watched your face twist with sadness.. and you slowly making your way towards him. Tim opens his arms and quietly pulls you in, one hand rubbing at the back of your head and the other gripping your back. “I’m an asshole. I know you’re just worried.” He mumbled quietly, lips pressed to your forehead as you hide your face in his chest. “You’re okay..” he continues to mumble, awkwardly trying to find a way to comfort you further.

Hoodie/ Brian Thomas

-he’s quiet. Very quiet. I think he’s the most gentle when it comes to arguments with his S/O. He’s scared to hurt you, always in any circumstances. He’s more observant, he knows when the argument gets too much for you just by a single movement.

-though he does have his moments where he does get angry back, he can normally control his temper. Usually the argument starts by something he’s done so he can handle it, he can deal with it. He tells you “I promise I’ll change, just give me some time” and you believe him because he does change but then he falls back into his habits, leaving for weeks on end, taking too many pills, his stalker tendencies.

-the argument this time is unclear, you probably don’t even remember by the Time Brian starts yelling back at you. His hair is messy from running his hands through it one too many times, he’s clenching his fists and trying to breathe as he shakily keeps his voice down.

-even in moments like this he still thinks of you. Not wanting to hurt you nor scare you.. he just lets you have your outburst and then you both move on. But tonight was different.

-he tends to ignore you when he gets worked up in an argument. If he’s not yelling back then majority of the time he’s just silent. His back towards you. But only when he’s angry right back at you. He’ll give you that silent treatment for hours.

-but this time. He made you cry. And he’s stopped dead in his tracks, eyes softening, getting down on his knees and resting his head against your stomach,his hands holding onto your waist. Sigh… he just had to fuck shit up again didn’t he.

ೃ࿔*:･

“Brian you can’t just leave me for weeks on end.. you can’t just.. disappear then show up like nothings happened. Where do you go..? Is there someone else” at this point he’s just been listening to you, letting you vent out but when you suddenly accuse him of cheating on you.. he snaps. You really think HE would cheat on you?! It’s not like he didn’t spend months watching you, becoming so infatuated with you to the point that it would make anybody so fucking sick to their stomach. But he couldn’t tell you that he couldn’t tell you he’s loved you far longer. So he stands, looks at you with anger in his eyes, a hint of sadness flashing on his face “don’t fucking accuse me of cheating on you.” He points a shaky finger in your face “don’t you ever. You don’t understand the shit I’d do for you, the shit I DO for you.” He’s close now, watching as you look up at him shakily. “This S-still doesn’t explain where you go Brian.. you-“ he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you close “no listen to me. I want to tell you I want to tell you so badly but I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t.” His eyes are averting he’s becoming shaky himself, he’s panicking. Trust him. Is what he wants to tell you, that It’ll all be okay, he’ll be okay in a couple of days, he’ll change just give him time.. but he can’t lie to you.. not now. It would only make shit worse for you in this moment. When he finally looks back at you he sees you staring up at him, not a word spoken but tears streaming down your face, and your wrists still held tight in his large hands. “I..” he softly brings your hand down, lowering himself to the ground as he watches you still stare straight ahead. He scared you. Brian goes silent and lets himself sit on his knees, his hands running up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and burying his head into your stomach. “I’m sorry” he whispered gently, shivering when he feels your hands curl into his hair and finally look down at him. You know he feels guilty. He’s only trying to protect you.

[uncannydevotion]

"i love you."

the words sounded so easy. the way you spoke them, so soft and sincere, it had tim's heart stopping for a moment.

he exhales, smoke drifting past his lips and into the night air as he leans against the hood of his truck. jay was inside the gas station, presumably stocking up on snacks for the three of you to eat during your investigation.

this wasn't the first time you'd confessed to him. it won't be the last, either, he thinks. but this one felt different. more genuine, like the weight of your love was starting to wear you down.

"you shouldn't." he responds, his gaze glued to the pavement below. he could see you shifting in the passenger seat of the truck from the corner of his gaze, and everything inside of him just wanted to look at you.

but he knew if he did, he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he loved you too. he loved you so much that it hurt.

tim wishes he could let you love him. he wishes he could fall into your embrace and never leave. but the universe had made his life a cruel joke, and he doesn't deserve your love.

it's his fault that you got dragged into this mess in the first place. it's his fault that this thing was tormenting everyone. it's all his fault, so how could he ever possibly deserve something as precious as you?

the silence that follows his words was so loud. he could hear his ears ringing.

but then, you exhale.

"i know," you whisper, "but i love you anyways."

and the cigarette he held between his fingers fell to the ground. he crushed it under his boot, and against all better judgment, he looked at you.

you stared back. your gaze was as soft as your words, and his mouth went dry. those three words threatened to spill from his lips. he didn't deserve this. he didn't deserve you.

his lips part, but before he could speak, his eyes were opening and he was staring up at the ceiling of his motel room.

it had been a year already. a year since he had heard you speak those words. a year since he had last seen you. a year since alex had killed you.

yet the memory is fresh in his mind. his cowardice, backing out from saying those damn words all because jay had come back at that moment.

"i love you too," he whispers into the quiet motel room.

the only response he received was silence.

[tryingtofindava]

──𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

These are depicted as if they and reader are platonic, their reactions would be MUCH different if it was their S/O…

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

Toby is the kind of guy who barrels into rooms without thinking. Especially if he’s hyped up, bored, or looking for someone to rile up.

So when he walks in and sees you mid change? Immediately tries to shield his eyes. “I s-swear I duh-didn’t see anything!! O-or wait, no… I-I mean I saw s-s-some things but I didn’t look…not on p-purpose!”

He’ll be apologising through the door while he waits for you to finish. He’d be blushing like a maniac and lowkey might gain a crush on you just from this…

Will 100% accidentally make it more awkward by trying to reassure you. “I duh-didn’t k-know you were hot under alllll those layers… W-wait, NO, crap, I didn’t muh-mean it like t-that-“

He means well and he genuinely feels bad. You’ll probably have to reassure him more than he reassures you.

╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

Kate is sharp, focused, and not the type to get flustered easily. But walking in on someone may through her off guard for a second.

Her face is blank, like she just turned into stone. But her eyes widen for the briefest second.

“…I didn’t see anything,” she mutters, closing the door as if nothing happened. Her voice is flat, but there’s a slight tremble to it if you’re paying attention.

You’d think she’d shrug it off like it’s no big deal. But afterward, she’s avoiding you like the plague.

Will not talk about it unless you force her to, and even then she’ll brush it off. “What, it’s a body. I’ve seen worse.” But her ears are red.

If you tease her about how you flustered her, she’ll get all grouchy.

Eventually, she gets over it and returns to normal, but not without throwing one last jab “Next time, lock the damn door.”

╰┈➤ 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧/𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞

Brian is typically composed.

Calm, quiet, deliberate in his actions. So when he walks in on you mid change, there’s this half second of wide eyed ‘oh shit.’ recognition before he turns heel.

He immediately turns his back, hand raised apologetically. “Didn’t realise, sorry.”

He doesn’t panic just respectfully retreats.

Doesn’t bring it up again unless you do. If you mention it, he just shrugs it off like, “You’re human, it happens.” But there’s a little color in his cheeks.

He respects your privacy immensely.

Now Hoodie is similar, only difference is you wouldn’t know he was even there.

He’s silent, he’s a stalker after all, even in the safety of the cabin. No sound. No reaction. Just a slow, silent step backward, and the door eases shut with barely a creak.

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐦/𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐲

Tim’s always a little on edge. PTSD, paranoia, stress… it’s his default. So walking into a room without triple checking who’s inside is rare, but hey, maybe he thought it was empty or forgot you were using it.

The moment he sees you halfway through changing, his brain short circuits. He immediately jerks backward like he just got burned.

“Jesus! Shit, sorry!” His voice is gruff, sharp, like he’s more angry with himself than anything else.

He’ll through his hands over his eyes and retreat backwards in a rush. Trying to get out there as FAST as possible.

Probably slams the door behind him so hard it makes the wall shake.

Later on, if you bring it up, he’ll act like it was no big deal. “It’s not like I was trying to look. I ain’t some creep.”

But he’s clearly still embarrassed. He’ll be avoiding eye contact with you for awhile now..

Now Masky on the other hand…

The door opens. You’re mid change, shirt halfway off or something and you freeze. He pauses in the doorway, eyes landing on you for a brief moment.

His expression is unknown due to the mask, he just lets out a gruff grunt.

Doesn’t immediately turn around. He just glances to the side, avoids looking directly at you, and then shuts the door with a dull click. Maybe he’ll give a short “Sorry.” While leaving.

That’s it. No fluster. No freak out. You’re left standing there wondering if it even fazed him.

Later, you might try to bring it up maybe joke about it to ease the tension and all he’ll say is something like

“You act like I’ve never seen a body before. Don’t flatter yourself.”

[dreamerimpossible]

Creepypasta Jealousy Scale

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, +18 content.

Jeff The Killer 7/10

Jealous, but not to the extreme. In fact, he would always make you jealous on purpose to drive you crazy, so he thinks that every contact you have with another person is to get back at him, so that takes away a bit of extreme jealousy, since he doesn't want to give you the pleasure. He usually thinks that you live for his constant attention, so he just makes fun of you.

Masky

8/10

He would be more jealous, but he is constantly busy with his own affairs that he would lose track of you a bit. However, when he is with you, he doesn't like anyone having their eyes on you. He is constantly touching you and making it clear with kind words that you are his, such as calling you his bitch in front of others and touching you in public without your consent.

Hoodie 9/10

He doesn't like the interactions you may have with others. He chose you and you should act accordingly. That said, he's pretty scary so I doubt anyone will ever get close enough to you to feel threatened, so you never see that side of him. Sometimes he will put his hand on your lower back.

Laughing Jack 10/10

Your attention should be solely on him, any hint of neglect will make him angry and he will lash out at everyone, including you. He will encourage you to dress similarly to him and by the time you spend too much time with him, you will have gone mad, meaning no one will want to come within six feet of you. So at least he will have no reason to be jealous.

Ticci Toby 10/10

He is not to be messed with. Just don't. He is lethal. You should not talk in any strange way to other people. Any hint of it will make him angry. He won't say much but he will show it with actions. He loses trust very quickly. It is often difficult to get rid of anger. Luckily for you, you don't surround yourself with people who might upset him.

[horny-marbles]

𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚃𝚊𝚕𝚔 (𝚃𝚒𝚖 𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝/𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

CW: dubcon, gun play (not really play lol), oral giving, outside sex (cause its not really public), creampie, some corpse mentions NOT NECRO just a witness XD

word count 3.1k

this is a request from @erenasia <33

summary: tim drives by some fields after a mission, finds you trying to bury a body real amateur style (guys i went to the countryside and passed by some cornfields on the road and i felt inspired)

The headlights of the Mercury Milan sliced through the dark like a boxcutter through soft meat. They bounced off dew-damp corn stalks, high and looming like teeth, catching in the dust kicked up by worn tires on a narrow dirt road. The engine hummed low, tense like a held breath.

Tim's mask lay on the passenger seat, its mouth smiling back at him like a mockery of what it's seen, crusted with blood. Someone else’s. Not a clean kill, but not messy either—efficient, brutal, mindless. His hands still trembled from it, even if his brain didn’t. That kind of guilt didn’t sink into him anymore. Not deep.

He just needed to drive. To think. To not think. Something.

The radio was off. The windows were cracked just enough to let in the scent of dead grass, distant manure, cold dirt, and something more metallic—maybe his imagination, maybe the speckles of blood still drying on the sleeve of his jacket. His fingers tightened around the wheel as the road curved.

And then... The hell?

He blinked. Slowed.

A shape out there in the dark, just past the line of corn. Still. Humanoid. Like a scarecrow had lost its pole.

Then it moved. Arm lifting. Metal glinting in the moonlight.

Shovel.

The blade came down with a crunch into the earth. Again. And again.

Who the fuck digs a hole in a cornfield at 2 a.m.?

His foot eased onto the brake. The Milan huddled to a stop on the uneven dirt. The engine idled while he watched, eyes narrowed. After a moment, he cut the headlights and killed the ignition, dropping the world into shadow.

Tim grabbed his mask from the seat, but didn’t put it on, not yet. Just held it by the side, fingers tapping blood-dried plastic. He slipped the gun from the glovebox and tucked it under his jacket.

He moved quiet through the stalks. Soft steps. Careful breath. Eyes sharp.

You didn’t hear him at all.

Whoever you were, you weren’t good at being sneaky. Too busy digging, too busy breathing hard, each slam of the shovel into the earth screaming louder than any instinct in your head. The dirt was wet beneath, the kind that clung to the blade like it knew what you were doing. You didn’t hear the crunch of his boots behind you. Didn’t hear the husks sway as he slipped between them.

He stood close. Watched. Your arms shook a little with each lift. Not from weakness, but from adrenaline, probably. There was a body at your feet, awkwardly twisted, half wrapped in a dirty tarp. Tim took in the blood on your sleeves, mirroring the splatters painting his forearms.

The click of a gun's safety going off was the first thing you heard.

You screamed.

The shovel clanged against the dirt as you spun, one hand diving into your pocket fast and smooth like you’d done this part before. Tim didn’t flinch. He was already aiming, finger near the trigger, gun leveled at your forehead.

And then his voice came, rough; muffled, but calm.

“That’s not how you get rid of a body.”

You froze, facing the figure in the dark, edges softened by shadow, mask catching faint light. White with eyeholes black as sin, blood spattered like something had clawed at it. Dried red. Sharp lines. A face that wasn’t a face at all.

Your fingers wrapped around the pocketknife tighter, heart punching your ribs, panic flipping instantly into fight, but you didn’t pull it. Yet.

He didn’t move, didn’t twitch. His stance was relaxed, gun casual in his grip like it lived there.

“Try it,” he said after a beat. Same tone. Like he was daring you. Like he wanted you to.

Adrenaline surged, white-hot and bitter. Your fingers itched. You weren’t sure if it was rage or terror or both. The dead guy at your feet felt a thousand miles away now.

“What the fuck do you want?” you spat, voice tighter than you meant it to be.

He tilted his head—slow, considering.

“Just watching,” he said. “Curious.”

“Curious?” Your laugh came out shaky and sharp. “You got blood on your... face.”

He didn’t deny it.

The tension jumped, fast and mean. Like both of you realized, at the same moment, that you weren’t so different. That you could both be killers.

Or something close enough.

The wind shifted. Corn rustled. His boots stepped once toward you, crunching dry stalks underfoot. Deliberate. You didn’t move, but your heart pounded so loud it made you dizzy.

His mask tilted again, slower this time, like he was studying you. The way your chest heaved. The grip you had on that knife. The heat rising between fear and something stranger.

He didn’t lower the gun. You didn’t lower your guard.

But your mouth opened anyway.

“…You gonna shoot me or stare at me all night?”

The pause that followed felt like thunder trapped in your chest.

His response was low, muffled by the mask. Like gravel and smoke, like a threat veiled in a challenge.

“…Depends what you do next.”

You stared him down, throat dry, body hot with a strange cocktail of nerves and defiance. The gun didn’t waver. Neither did his voice. He had you at a disadvantage, and you both fucking knew it.

But that didn’t stop you from snapping, “Then shoot me. Or get out of my way.”

He took another step closer. The barrel followed you like a magnet. You could see his chest rise and fall beneath the yellow jacket, steady but heavy—like he was thinking too much. Watching too hard.

Then, slowly, his free hand raised.

“You’re gonna zip that mouth,” he said, tone dipped in something darker, “if you know what’s good for you.”

Your lip curled. “I could say the same to you. What are you even doing out here?”

Another beat.

“Cleaning up a mess,” he said flatly. “Like you.”

The mask never moved, but something in the air twitched—a beat of shared understanding. Ugly and human. You’d both taken a life, for whatever fucked-up reasons.

You stepped back. Slight. Defiant.

His gun didn’t move.

“So,” you said coolly, “we both go our separate ways and pretend this never happened?”

“No,” he said. Simple. Sharp.

You blinked. “Why not?”

“’Cause you saw me,” he muttered. “And I saw you. Can’t let you walk.”

Something flipped in your gut, something fast and furious. Your fingers curled tighter around the knife. “You don’t have to kill me.”

"...No. I don’t.”

A pause.

“But you’re gonna do something for me.”

You didn’t like the way he said it. Slow. Heavy. Full of grit and promise. Your eyes narrowed in silent question, but he didn’t answer with words.

He just reached down, popped the button of his jeans. One hand still on the gun, still pointed at you, the other slipped his zipper down slow and smooth, like he wasn’t in any kind of rush. Like he already knew you weren’t going anywhere.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“Get on your knees,” he said. Not a request. Not even a threat. Just a fact.

You scoffed. “You’re outta your fuckin’ mind—”

But his gun snapped forward.

Now it was right against your forehead. Cold steel, his breath steady.

“You want me to keep your little cornfield secret? Wanna leave without a hole in your head?” he said low, voice dropping like a weight. “Then get to work.”

Your breath hitched.

You could feel your own heartbeat pounding against the muzzle. It would’ve been terrifying if you weren’t so high on the adrenaline. On the sick, wrong heat crawling up your spine.

You dropped to your knees, slow, never breaking eye contact with that blank mask. Your knife stayed sheathed. For now.

His cock was already half-hard when you pulled it out—thick, heavy, veiny. You didn’t even get to say something smart before he shoved the gun harder against your forehead like he was warning you not to try it.

But you did. Just a little.

Your fingers wrapped around the base—tight. Your other hand reached down, not-so-gently cupping his balls. Squeezing.

His hips jerked once, and then—click.

The safety on the gun flicked off again. You froze.

That steel was really pressed to your head now, the bore leaving a perfect circle indented into your skin. His cock twitched in your grip.

“…Try that shit again,” he said low. Almost growled. “See how fast I paint this field red.”

You didn’t smile. But god, you wanted to.

Instead, you loosened your grip, just enough. Let your tongue drag slow over the head, tasting salt and sweat and copper. His breathing stuttered. The tension spiked.

Your lips wrapped around the head, dry at first—on purpose. Petty, even now. You didn’t give him spit. You didn’t give him tongue. Just warm pressure and narrowed eyes, daring him to push you, as if he hadn't given you enough proof that he would.

The gun ground harder into your forehead, cold metal biting skin, nudging your head back slightly, but not enough to push you off his cock.

“You think I’m playing with you?” he muttered. His voice was rough now, strained. “Open the fuck up.”

You breathed deep through your nose and let your tongue drag slow along the underside. Fine. You could play nice.

You spit thick over the shaft, let your lips get wet, your chin slick. He hissed above you. Not satisfaction—more like tension. Like every second of this was testing the line between control and carnage.

You sank lower. Your throat tightened around him, and he groaned—deep and raw behind the mask.

The barrel of the gun wobbled slightly, pressure easing just enough to let your head bob. The hand holding it was trembling now, fingers tightening around the grip. You could see the way his thighs flexed, how hard his breath came through the plastic of that mask.

You went deeper. Let your jaw relax. Sloppy now. Filthy. Drool smeared your chin, and the wet sounds of your mouth echoed between the corn stalks like something ungodly. His cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged, loud and rough.

“Fuck—” he bit out, voice shaking. “Keep choking, come on."

You didn’t stop, even as you felt that red-hot defiance rush back in. You couldn’t. He was still holding the fucking gun. Still pressing it to your head like a warning, like he didn’t trust you not to bite.

Fair.

You moaned around him, let the vibrations hum down his shaft. His legs buckled slightly and his free hand shot out, fisting a chunk of your hair. He pulled you down harder, buried himself deep. Your nose smashed into his pelvis, the smell of sweat and blood in your lungs.

You gagged again—wet, raw, and he held you there.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” he muttered, breath hitching. “You wanna walk away from this, you better show me you’re worth the secret.”

Tears burned your eyes, spit bubbling around your lips, dripping down your neck in thick strands. But your hands stayed firm—one stroking the base, the other braced on his thigh. You let him fuck your mouth, let him use you like he owned you, even though every bone in your body screamed rebellion.

He was panting now. The gun twitched, no longer pointed steady—half-forgotten in the storm of sensation.

You felt it, the shift when his voice cracked.

“Shit—fuck—keep going, don’t fucking stop—”

You didn’t. You went harder, sloppier. Every stroke louder than the last, your throat abused and sore, spit coating your chest. You were a fucking mess for him. A threat with tears on your cheeks and a gun at your temple.

The taste of him still clung to your tongue when he yanked you up by the hair, rough and quick and with no warning, dragging you into the shadows of the corn.

You stumbled, knees hitting the ground hard, dirt caking your palms as they smacked the earth. The shovel lay discarded. The covered corpse you were planting sat inches away—still fresh, still leaking. You barely noticed.

Tim did.

He shoved you forward, your stomach hitting the ground, hands catching on the black plastic tarp draped over the body. You gripped it without thinking, just to stay steady. Just to brace yourself.

He dropped to his knees behind you. The cold barrel of the gun slid along your spine before settling at your ribs. Just a reminder.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled, voice low, ragged.

He was already unbuckling his belt, already shoving jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself properly this time. His cock hung mean and heavy—still wet with your spit, tip and veins glistening under the sliver of moonlight peeking through the corn.

You didn’t look back. Couldn’t. Every nerve in your body was screaming, vibrating with adrenaline, fear, lust.

The blunt head of him pressed to your hole—no prep, no softness. Just raw intent.

“Wait—” you started, but the gun jabbed harder into your ribs.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped. “You want it gentle, don’t bury bodies in the middle of my goddamn path.”

He lined up fast. No warning, no mercy, no real prep beyond the spit he roughly smoothed over his cock in one swipe like an afterthought. He pushed in, slow, but not kind.

The stretch burned. Dirt clung to your knees and forearms, your fingers clawing into the tarp in front of you, knuckles brushing the dead man’s shoulder through the plastic. You grit your teeth, gasped out a choked curse.

Behind the mask, Tim’s jaw clenched.

He hated this.

Not you. Not the act. This.

The constant pressure. The guilt. The fucking fog in his brain that never let up. Slender’s influence gnawed at the edge of his mind like static. Kill after kill, command after command. He hadn’t felt human in months, fuck, maybe even years. He couldn't keep up anymore.

But this?

The tight heat of you clenching around his cock, the way you whimpered when he pushed in to the hilt, this was real.

He rammed into you, pace brutal from the start. His fingers dug into your hip with bruising force, the other hand still holding the gun flush against your side. Every thrust shoved you forward, your hands scrabbling at the corpse tarp in a grotesque search for purchase.

“F-fuck—” you gasped, half into the ground. “You’re—”

“I said fucking quiet,” he growled, breath hot and ragged behind the mask. “You fucked up. You're lucky I'm not a cop. I'm giving you dick instead of 30 to life. So shut up and take it.”

You did.

You took it like the air in your lungs depended on it. Let the filth smear your skin, let the pain and pressure drown out the reality of what was happening. You didn’t know his name. Didn’t know his face.

All you knew was the heat of him inside you, the gun pressed to your ribs, and the sick thrill in your chest that came from being fucked to shreds in the dirt next to the motherfucker you’d killed.

Tim pounded into you harder, teeth gritted behind the mask. His thoughts flickered—blood on his hands, commands in his head, corpses he didn’t want to leave behind. You were just another mistake. Another bad decision to add to the pile.

But fuck, you felt good.

Better than the pills.

Better than the guilt.

He pulled the gun away from your ribs, just for a second—and slapped it across your ass with a sharp crack. Not playful. Just to hear you yelp.

Then he shoved it right back into place, making you squirm and arch away from it.

"Better hold the fuck still,” he muttered, voice strained but barely shaking, “unless you wanna find out what a hollow point feels like from the inside."

Your whole body shook—maybe from fear, maybe from the slow spiral of ecstasy building deep in your gut. The world narrowed to the punishing rhythm of his hips slamming into your ass, the cold of the weapon, the wet slick sounds of bodies colliding in a graveyard of your own making.

It was fucking depraved, but it got you babbling.

Every nerve ending had turned electric, your limbs trembling, body barely hanging together. His cock slammed into you harder, rougher, like he was trying to force his guilt out through your skin. Like you were the confessional booth, and he was absolving his sins one brutal thrust at a time.

Then, his hand curled into the back of your hair. The cold barrel of the gun shifted from your ribs to your neck, and he shoved your face into the dirt.

Not enough to suffocate, but enough to taste earth, feel it scrape your tongue, mud worming past your lips as you gasped for breath.

“Take it,” he snarled above you. “Fucking take it.”

You screamed into the soil when he came, hips stuttering, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you up—hot and heavy, pulse after pulse of filthy, broken release. You could feel it leaking already, mixing with sweat and spit and dirt between your thighs.

His grip didn’t let up until the tremors in his body faded. He panted hard above you, fingers tightening once more in your hair—then letting go. You collapsed fully, face still half-buried in the ground, lungs burning.

Tim stood, zipping up, adjusting the mask. The weight of the moment hung between you like smoke.

You didn’t dare move, didn't dare lower your hips back to the ground. Not yet. Not with the gun still in his hand.

He stared down at you for a long moment, chest rising and falling.

And then, his voice came as if nothing had happened, calm even as he caught his breath.

“Next time—dig the hole first.”

You blinked, dazed. “…What?”

“Amateur shit,” he muttered, wiping dirt off the side of the gun with the hem of his shirt, stuffing it back into the pocket of his jeans. “Always dig the hole first. Then kill ‘em. Saves time. Keeps the scent down.”

You rolled onto your side with a groan, dirt smearing your cheek, thighs slick with cum and shame and something that felt dangerously close to satisfaction.

He was already walking away.

Just—back through the corn, calm like a fucking ghost. His silhouette swallowed by the stalks, vanishing without a sound, only leaving the acrid whiff of tobacco smoke behind him as he lit a cigarette.

You didn’t even catch his name.

Didn’t know if you'd ever see him again, didn't know if you'd want to, actually.

But the breeze carried the faint slam of a car door, the low rumble of an engine firing up, and then radio silence.

You were alone again.

Except for the body.

And the ache between your legs.

And the way your heart wouldn’t stop racing, not even as the moon hung high and judgmental above your half-finished grave.

[acexsmhking]

𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞

(𝗮𝗱𝗷.) 𝗹𝗲𝘄𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲

╰┈➤ Sending the Creeps nudes

Summary: Shared Head-canons for GN!Reader sending the Creeps nudes while they’re out and about or working! .. minus Kate, Jason, Evan/HABiT, Jeff, Nina & Alex

Warning(s): 18+ content, mentions of sexual activity, GN!Reader, mentions of gore, mentions of murder, mentions of cannibalism, FEM!Reader for Jane, Clockwork & MALE!Reader for Jay

Tim Wright

Tim had been sitting at the coffee shop near his therapist office. Wanting a moment to treat himself to some little cakes and write in his journal before hurrying back home to you. He’d been gone for days, desperately needed to see his therapist since this last trip left him.. a little shaken.

But he missed you dearly, it was no surprise when seeing your notification he immediately opened it. Wanting to text you that he picked you up a treat and would be home soon. That went completely out the window as he blankly stared at the photo infront of him. Only getting half the mind to shift in his seat to protect his phone when the barista called someone’s name.

“You are such a tease.. I’ll be home in 5” Let’s just say maybe Tim sped a little than he should’ve gettin back home to you.

Brian Thomas

Brian was over at Tim’s, helping him settle down after they’d spent the past 2 weeks in those damn woods.. again. He’d just settled Tim in bed, tucking him and leaving a cup of cold water on his bedside so he could find it first thing when woke up. It wasn’t easy being such an amazing husband— best friend. He had just gotten in the car, a tired sigh finally leaving his lips. Letting his body sink against the car seat. He was tired, hungry, and wanted his dearest partner.

Think of the devil and he shall arrive, a buzz catching his attention as he lazily pulled out his phone. A tired smile on his lips as he noticed your name in the notifications. It took his brain a long second to actually process what he was looking at. A large gulp stuck in his throat.. you looked.. inviting to put it politely.

“I missed you too, doll ;)” Was all he sent before happily, and far more awake, driving home.

Tobias Rogers

Toby was leaning against a wall in an alley, freshly coming out of your favorite bakery after he’d done some.. hunting. Covered in smell of dirt and woods but unbothered by the stares of patrons as he put in an order. One of the very very few times he actually puts himself around.. people. But you’d been craving some nasty fast food recently. And who was he to deny his most precious treasure of what they want? So here he was getting as much as he could possibly manage to carry.

He was slouched on a chair waiting for everything to be done. “Resting his feet” as you’d often patronize him about doing. Head resting on the back of the chair, cracking his neck to do so. Something you’d also correct him on but it felt so good and a little weird in its own way.

He was just about to text you when you sent a photo, it took him a minute to even realize what you sent. He looked you up and down over and over, posed and dolled up on the bed waiting for him. He quickly blinked the haze from his eyes before looking around. “Come home soon<3” You could bet your ass he was on his way.

Jay Merrick (only M!)

Jay was slumped at his desk, or was it Alex’s? He didn’t know. His head was ringing, eyes dazed with a soreness in his bones. He stretched, cracking his back and neck trying to get a knot out. Albeit it, uselessly. As he looked around himself, camera film, pages and documents scattered around he gave up the idea of trying to remember what the hell even happened. Far too use to the memory loss to care. He quickly unlocked his phone, the bright screen blinding him for just a moment before he opened your contacts. Thankfully you’d grown less panicked over time as he disappeared, sending messages mostly about your day to keep him updated. He smiled as he scrolled down, carefully reading each message.

However.. the last message you sent definitely caught his attention the best. Steam from the shower wrapped around your body, the camera just a little fogged itself but still managing to capture your body perfectly. Hell, he thought it was perfect. Looking at the flex of your muscles in your pose, eyes wondering down your abdomen. Safe to say, Jay paid no attention to Alex as he scurried home to you.

Helen Ottis

He’d just finished organizing things in his ‘studio’. Ensuring the paint was stored properly and hidden so no.. happy accidents happened. Along with managing to finish a painting after about a month, art block is truly horrible. He just couldn’t figure out how he wanted to conclude it. He was carefully wiping down his tools and washing his hands when he heard his notification go off. Of course, it was you. Had to be you. You were the only person he talked to.. and didn’t, discard. Helen opened your message just as he gently place a brush back in place.

You’d sent a few loving messages before he finally saw the picture you’d sent. You were laid out, perfectly posed as the sunlight his you just right. No doubt a masterpiece you’d taken quite some time trying to capture. And who was he to just let your efforts go to waste? He’d make sure he’d capture you, before rewarding you. “I’m on my way, I hope you know what will occur?”

Clockwork (only F!)

She was actually right in her study at home, tinkering on a little gift she wanted to surprise you with. After all, your anniversary was coming up and Natalie always made you some sort of animal to describe the year together. She thought, hoped really, that it properly displayed her deep affections. Plus, animals are cute! Just as she was feeling around for a screwdriver did she hear her phone. Brow raised and she reached to check it, not like she had many contacts.. or really anything expect you. She chuckled seeing you’d sent her numerous things, even though she was right down the hall. You were too cute and thoughtful about her work.

She opened your text last, assuming it was probably just about dinner. And oh boy was it. You were sat on the dining table, in a cute slip on dress you had just recently bought. Cute frills, a few bows and of course, it barely concealed anything. Nat could feel her mouth water as she quickly, and carefully, stood eyes still glued to her phone. Just you wait.

Jane (only F!)

She was sat in her office, typing away at a report for a new case. Some unholy thing recently being discovered and obviously it needed to be dealt with. Not to mention her forever going hunt for the Woods. Almost everyone else had left aside from her, on sight doctors and scientists as well as her level-classed co-workers. Slaving over the same grueling work.. typing. A steady ache seeped into her back, she wanted nothing more than to just get home. Dealing with so many things.. she was far too afraid than she really said leaving you alone. Sure, you were technically always being watched. But she wasn’t watching you — that scared her. She perked just a little seeing your name on her phone screen. A little “do you like it?” Attached under your name that caught her attention. Of course, she was quick to answer you, opening her phone. She needed a break from a white and black screen.

And you provided the perfect distraction, completely dolled up. Showing off a new dress you had bought, clearly some new shoes too. Immediately she felt hot, her doll going out spending her money. What could make a spouse hornier? She stared before hurriedly checking and saving her work, hastily shoving things into her bag before rushing out. “On my way.”

: ̗̀➛ Omg sorry for not posting in a while, now that my finger is finally healed I wanted to finish this up! I have a few older projects I want to work including Chapter 3 of RDR!Toby and hopefully something new for you all! Love you all so much

— Ace

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 04

Masky x Gender Neutral Reader - In the Car/Road Head

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Blowjob, road head, praise, car sex, pleasing, codependency, obsessive traits, clinginess, trauma responses, brief mentions of abuse, soft sex, kinda fluffy

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Made Masky kind of soft in this… I like it.

The two of you had been riding out this empty interstate for miles, another thirty or so left to go. Thick night air rushed through the cracked windows, the heavy thud of music sounding through the old speakers of the beat up truck.

Masky had been driving the whole time, left hand gripped tightly onto the wheel as you nudged uncomfortably close to his side, his arm wrapped around your back. It was an older model truck without the console, perfect for you to get close to him.

You couldn’t help that you had grown codependent. Every proxy had their bad traits, yours was just slightly more annoying than others.

When The Operator first introduced you to the others, you were stiff, fresh out of whatever hell-hole mental destruction the others had also experienced. It was only normal you resisted the rest of the group at first, they knew you’d come around.

What no one really expected was just how closely you did come around.

It was near obsessive now. You always needed to be touching or holding onto Toby’s clothing, the boy quickly becoming flustered and uncomfortable and moving you onto someone else. Hoodie and Kate didn’t take it well either, grumbling when you asked to hold their sleeves or shoving you off when you crawled too close.

The only one who could really tolerate it was Masky, taking the brunt of your clinginess out of understanding from his own messed-up tendencies. Trauma was no stranger to the man, so if he could offer you some relief from yours when no one did him, he wouldn’t mind it too much.

He was always willing to scoot over in bed to let you crawl in, or wrap yourself in his heavy jacket to ride out a panic attack. The others teased him for being soft, but you knew it was because he understood better than they ever could.

Knees pressed to your chest, you clung to his warmth, the chilly night air blowing your hair due to a lack of available A/C. Masky kept his gaze straight, tired eyes scanning the empty asphalt.

The mission the two of you were coming back from was less than enjoyable, a murder job for a group of college kids writing a report about paranormal activities linked to murders in the area. Just their luck, The Operator didn’t quite appreciate being called ‘paranormal’. They were just unlucky, a bunch of kids too brave and vulnerable deep in the woods. It wasn’t a reach to say both you and Masky didn’t enjoy being tasked with this.

You especially, still coming down from a mild panic attack that the man beside you had to ease you through. You sniffled, his hand rubbing against the side of your arm.

“Doin’ alright?” He glanced down at you, tired gaze meeting your puffy eyes before resuming back on the headlights out front. The engine rumbled, tires rattling against the potholes littered on the road. You were getting closer to the backroad leading to the mansion, the treeline becoming familiar.

Your chest still hurt, and panic still rattled in your mind, but you nodded anyway. Masky still rubbed your arm, your head resting on his shoulder as you took long, labored breaths.

“Sorry…”

“Never had a problem before, why would I start now, mouse?”

That nickname always did it for you too, bringing you back down from whatever hysterics you found yourself in. Masky was just accustomed to taking care of you along with himself now, the extension a second nature to him.

Despite how often you fed into it, you really did feel bad for being so pitiful.

You reached your hand across his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him closer. He adjusted, letting his hand rest on the small of your hip and holding you closer. Your nose nudged into the crook of his neck, his smell flooding your senses with that familiar comfort you’d grown to love.

Your interactions had never been sexual, always a comfort for the two of you. But now in the solitude and emotional stir of the night, you couldn’t help the flutters that grew in your gut when Masky’s hand reached further to rub the side of your thigh. His scent was just so nice too, with dried sweat from his overextension earlier thick on his skin. You couldn’t help but push a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw.

You just wanted to thank him for always being so kind.

“Hey, now-” You felt him tense for a moment, glancing down at you as your hands clung to his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“Sorry…” You kissed his neck again, taking deep breaths each time to fill your senses with him. Maybe it was toxic, maybe it was codependent, or even obsessive- but you couldn’t help how safe he made you feel. Was it so bad to want him to feel that way too?

He didn’t resist when you let your hand slide down his chest, fisting against the fabric of his shirt as your lips cling to the side of his neck, leaving sickly sweet kisses. He shuddered when your hand dipped to the waistline of his jeans, shifting as his foot settled a little heavier on the accelerator. His hand gripped your waist tight, the knuckles on his other fist turning white while wrapped on the steering wheel.

“Mouse.” He huffed when you let off of his neck, laying your head back on his shoulder. Despite his warning, he watched eagerly when you began to undo his belt, shifting his hips up to give you easier access.

“Let me thank you…”

“For what?”

“Being so nice to me…”

His grasp hugged your hips closer, your fingers fiddling with his zipper and tugging it down. You pushed a hand past the band of his boxers, a quiet gasp leaving his lips when you wrap it around his limp cock.

Your cheeks are flushed, the warmth of your bodies pressed close as you slowly stroke him to life, his length slowly growing in your grasp. You could feel Masky loosen up, his body relaxing into your touch as his gaze constantly flickered from the road to your hand.

“You don’t need to do this, mouse.” He groaned when you rubbed your thumb across his tip, his thigh jerking and stuttering the speed of the truck. The cool air had goosebumps rising across his skin, his now-hard cock pulsing under your fingers.

“I want to.” You whispered, a quiet excitement rushing through you at his willingness. Masky huffed, rubbing against your hip as he tried his best to focus on the road.

Pushing your legs out, you scooted over, his eyes following you as you leaned down to rest against his leg. Pushing his boxers down, you tugged his cock out, the sight making you gasp quietly. You were nervous, but Masky’s hand reaching to push your hair from your face eased you.

You leaned in, hand fisted tight onto the base of his length as you pressed your lips to the divot of his cockhead, letting spit dribble from your lips onto the tip. He groaned above you, right hand collecting your hair and fisting it out of the way.

Giving a gentle kiss against his slick tip, you let your lips part, his head pushing into the warmth of your mouth. You try to take all of him too quickly, pushing your jaw wider to nudge his twitching cock against your tongue.

“Shit.” His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle nudge pushing you down further and making you choke quietly. He’s immediately tugging you back up, your fingers clinging against the fabric of his jeans as you come up for air.

“Easy, would ‘ya? You ever even done this before?” It didn’t matter, all you knew was you wanted to make him feel good, and that little curse he let out earlier was exactly what you were looking for. You pushed your head back down, taking a deep breath as you wrapped your lips back around his tip.

Masky groaned, letting his hand off the wheel to push his hair back, glancing down at you with heavy eyes. You bob your head lightly, swiping your tongue across the divot of his tip to tug little huffs from the man above you. Eyes fluttering shut, you try to take more each time, relaxing your jaw to push more of his thick cock into the warm wetness of your throat.

You choked a little each time, straining when you felt his tip shove against the roof of your mouth in a way that made Masky twitch inside you. Good, he was enjoying it, it felt good. Slobber builds around your lips, sucking your cheeks in to make his hips stutter and twinge up into your mouth. Tears well on your waterline, little droplets slipping down your cheeks each time.

“Easy. You’re doin’ good. Doin’ real good…”

Your gut fluttered with excitement, pressing your head down all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, his pubes tickling the side of your face. You held your eyes closed, trying your best to stay relaxed as you gagged around him, his tip pressed against the tightness of your throat. Even still, he smelled so good.

Masky was moaning, taking shaky breaths as his hips jerked lightly up into you, cock bobbing against the back of your throat. You wanted to be good for him, to make him feel as good as possible, so you stayed, grunting and choking as quietly as you could while bobbing in rhythm with him.

“Fuck, ah- Good, mouse, just like that-”

His cock gleams with your slobber as you slide back up to his tip, running your tongue across his slit to collect the stout taste of his pre. You push back down, taking all of him quickly to pull right back up again, sucking his entire length.

Masky groans loudly, hand fisted tight into your hair and tugging you up and down, taking deep breaths every chance you can get. His praises ring in your ear, keeping you eager to please him as you rub your tongue across the bulging veins running up his length.

It’s so hard for Masky not to look at you, pre and spit collecting sloppily at the corners of your mouth just out of his view, eyes flickering between the beautiful view and the boring road ahead. He huffs, jerking the steering wheel to the side and running the truck onto the edge of the road, pressing the breaks quickly to bring the truck to a stop. You’re jostled, keeping a tight grip on his leg as you keep on with your pace.

Throwing the gear in park, he can finally wrap both of his hands into your hair, leaning back to get a good view of your flushed and teary face swallowing his cock down willingly. He moans through parted lips, shifting his hips to fuck up into your mouth and groaning every time your throat tightened around his tip.

“Oh fuck. Gonna cum, hah- Gonna-”

You let your jaw completely relax, taking restraint away from your neck to let him have control, to let him fuck you how he wants. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager, so willing and pliable for him.

Masky’s moaning out, your eyes rolling back as he pushes your head all the way down, gagging you down onto the entirety of his length.

“Yeah-”

When he cums, you’re trying your best to swallow every drop, puffy lips wrapping tight to drink him up. He hunches over your head, stuttering his hips to milk every drop into your throat as your tears and spit dribble onto the fabric of his jeans.

He’s finally pulling you up when you reach a hand to grip his shirt, hitting your fist against his thigh when you begin to choke for air. Masky tugs you up, wrapping his hands around your cheeks to take a look at you.

You’re flushed, his fingers wiping away your tear soaked cheeks and brushing his thumb over your lips. You lean into his touch, tired eyes fluttering closed as he’s pulling you close and pressing his lips against yours.

You gasp, cupping your hands over his as you just breathe in the moment. It feels like forever when he’s finally pulling away, your tired body taking its comfortable place back against his side as he zips his jeans back up, buckling his belt.

When you start back on the road, Masky’s arm wraps around your back, tugging you closer than before. You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder and breathing him in again. The thud of the music and the familiar bumpy ride ease you both back in.

Maybe you were obsessive, and annoying, and clingy, and even just a little codependent. But Masky had gladly taken you and all of those traits along with him. It was only right that you thank him.

And he’d gladly take that, too.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[ohcroculus]

masky x reader

wc; 0.2k

"do you hate me?" you asked as you felt how his arms were around your waist. he was hiding in your neck, inhaling your scent. your back was against his chest, feeling his soft heartbeat.

he didn't answer. he usually didn't. you felt a tired sigh hit your skin.

"will you shut up for a while if i say that i don't?"

you nodded.

"then no."

you hummed and nodded. you knew better than question him.

"sorry. go back to sleep." you mumbled and he gave another sigh, this time a little more stressed and hugged you closer.

he had a short time before going back to work. he never told you what he did for a living. you never questioned him. you just waited for him—for days or weeks. never for months. he was always back somehow.

sometimes you wondered about a future. would you two have one? maybe not. but he wasn't done with you just yet.

he liked the domestic side he could steal from you—where you two could watch a movie, eat something together, sleep in the same bed.

for now, it was perfect. being side by side with a stranger who loved you just in the way you wanted to be loved.