#Tim and Toby Headcanon

[crushedsweets]

They’re all tired

[pink-key]

New friend

[clayteland]

Yo! 🥺

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Toby: It’s like the same thing is happening over and over!

Y/N: So we’re stuck in a loop?

Toby: You can say that again!

Y/N: So we’re stuck in a loop?

Toby: You can say that again!

Y/N: So we’re stuck in a-

Tim: I WILL KILL YOU BOTH WITH MY BARE HANDS.

[rainrot4me]

Sick Days

Summary: The Creepypasta guys are feeling a little under the weather. You, their lovely partner, spend the day taking care of them (whether they like it or not).

Characters: {Separate} Jeff the Killer x Reader, Ticci Toby x Reader, Masky x Reader

TW: Very domestic and fluffy, slight bickering

Words: 6.7k

A/N: Sorry for the delay! More Christmas-themed works coming out shortly!

Seven days of pure snowfall and ice.

It had snowed a lot—a thick blanket of white across the forest deep enough to get your boots stuck in. Winter always seemed to roll around the Slenderwoods a little later in the year, but when it did, it was brutal. And, with so much pristine white covering the ground, the mansion was on full display in contrast to the grayed-out trees. 

Slenderman gave his orders. This meant longer missions, longer days in the frigid temperatures, and even longer nights recovering. You would think natural-born killers would have some inkling of instinct to keep themselves alive, but when they all returned practically half-dead… 

Thick jackets and worn shoes piled by the door, somehow still defrosting and leaving obnoxious puddles of water wherever you stepped. Dusty counters were littered with piles of nasty food and dishes, laundry untouched (that wasn’t unusual anyway), and a serious lack of arguing or hysterical fighting between the walls (that was unusual). It seems the weather hadn’t only brought down health, but moods too.

So, when things turn bad in the mansion, where do they end up? 

Your front door.

Jeff the Killer ▸

Jeff knocked nonstop until you opened your door, a confused look as to what in the world the killer could need. It wasn’t unusual for Jeff to stop by unannounced; he had made himself at home in your house a long time ago, but it was unusual for him to show up in the middle of the afternoon (broad daylight and all). 

“Jeffrey? Are you alright?” Glancing behind him, you could see where his boots made imprints on the fresh snow covering your sidewalk, dusty snowflakes melting in his dark hair. 

But, finally glancing up to meet his gaze, you could see it.

He looked terrible. More so than usual. Skin raw-red from the cold winds whipping at him, hair tangled, and head pounding in time with his too-loud heartbeat. You knew about the missions, and you knew what being in the cold for too long could do, you just didn’t know someone like Jeff could even get sick.

Stepping aside, Jeff trailed into your home, shoulders hunched so low you thought he was trying to fall over. All he gave you were hoarse grunts and shaky nods as you helped him strip his heavy clothes, shaking the snow from the sleeves onto the doormat outside. By the time you turned around, Jeff was already halfway down the hallway towards your bedroom.

The killer was so exhausted he didn’t even get his muddy boots off before he was face down into the pillows and oblivious to the world. 

Given the grueling retreat he had just returned from, this would have been a reasonable response. But, as his partner, you knew better than most: Jeff never sleeps, especially when he has a fresh mission to brag about. It only took his ragged coughing and blatant pitiful state to figure out you were going to have to help him.

The can of chicken noodle soup you poured into a bowl, then to the microwave, came out steaming hot. You blew on the contents; the smell was nice as you reached for a spoon, and you made a mental note that you would also need to clean his dirty clothes still caked in mud and (hopefully not his) blood. A small towel under the bowl, and you were making your way down the hall. 

Jeff hadn’t even bothered to shut the door; his limp body spread across your mattress like a corpse. He covered his head with a pillow, gripping the fabric and muffling the sputtering snores laced with evident sickness. You had only left him alone to make the soup for a couple of minutes, but that seemed to be enough to knock him out.

Jeff never slept, only when his body really needed it. But right now, his body also really, really needed something in its stomach besides mucus. You set the bowl on your nightstand before slowly kneeling on the bed. What do they say about waking a beast? You couldn’t remember. 

You cringed, teeth gritted as you gently placed your flat hand onto his back. His skin was burning, heat practically radiating from him as you easily rubbed up and down his spine. He didn’t even budge, the only sign of life being the gentle rising and falling of his back as he snored into the fabric of his pillows. You ran your hand higher, fingers rubbing across his shoulders and dipping to the arch of his shoulder blades until you felt his arms slowly shift.

His breathing faltered, consciousness rolling back into him as you shifted, letting one leg dangle off the bed as you sat beside him.

“Mhhmn…” He groaned, stiffly turning his face towards you and glaring through bloodshot eyes. You nearly choked out a laugh, scanning his flushed face and horrible eye bags, appearing even more dead than he normally did. It took the killer a minute to register what was happening, his messy bangs sticking to his forehead and matting wildly; it was evident he could’ve slept for the rest of the day and then some. 

But it was only 3 pm, and the sun shining through his curtains was made even worse by the reflection of the snow. He needed to eat; there was no telling how much he had worn himself down this past week. Jeff was never very good at self-preservation, especially when you had become a net to fall back on.

“Hey man… You wanna try and eat somethin’?” You tried to keep your voice low, the killer rolling onto his back and rubbing his hands over his face. He grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and slowly blinking at the ceiling. 

He nodded.

Reaching for the still-steaming bowl, you cupped the contents in your hands, shifting further onto the bed. Jeff shifted upwards, slowly but surely. It was odd. You had witnessed this man jump fencelines and tackle men double his size, but give him a fever and a headache that can’t be numbed out with alcohol, and suddenly he’s defenseless. You could’ve laughed, taunted him like he often did when you weren’t feeling hot, say something to get his gears going… 

But he just looked so… pitiful. 

One hand cupped under the bowl, you reached the other out, delivering soft touches with the back of your hand on his forehead. Jeff watched through tired eyes, blinking slowly when your fingers brushed his sweat-damp bangs out of his face, leaning closer to your every touch.

Always loud-mouthed and quick to anger, but right now, he was just calm. His body refused to move as quickly as he wanted it to, and his head was far too foggy with nausea to even consider pushing your helpful hand away. So, he just accepted it. Reluctantly, in his mind, but accepted it nonetheless.

“You don’t look so hot. What happened out there?” You paced the words slowly, taking the spoon in your hand and collecting a bit of the soup before bringing it to his pale lips. Jeff closed his eyes when he took the spoonful in his mouth, drinking the warm broth before letting you bring it back to the bowl for another. 

“Forgot to bring extra clothes… Hada’ reuse the same wet shit every day…” His voice was so hoarse, too. He cleared his throat, letting you spoon him another drink of the soup before leaning his head back on the headboard. He sounded like he had been sucking down nothing but cold air, throat raw and scratchy with the sinus infection he was harboring. 

A warm shower? Or maybe bringing him to sit in front of the fireplace you had crackling in the living room? You weren’t sure what he needed, but you knew he needed to sweat out this fever before it became a real problem. He reached for the bowl, cupping the towel underneath to set it in his lap before continuing to fish spoonfuls. The warmth of the soup probably did wonders for his sore throat.

You went to stand, pressing off of the bed before a rough hand wrapped around your wrist. Glancing down, Jeff was tugging you back towards him, knotted brows giving a silent question as to why you were leaving him. You smiled, kneeling back on the mattress to place a quick kiss on his way-too-warm forehead. “I’m starting you a bath, alright? Finish your soup.”

Another quick kiss and he was letting your wrist go, satisfied with your answer. The silence was awkward, but vulnerable and quiet. Jeff had no choice but to let you care for him; something about that made your heart so full.

Roaming to the bathroom, you pushed the curtain to the tub back and flipped the faucet all the way hot. Water filled slowly as you rummaged through the cabinet behind your sink mirror, reading various drugstore medicines and cough syrups before shaking a handful of sinus and head cold pills into your hand. 

You heard the gentle patter of bare feet stepping onto the tile of the bathroom just in time to turn off the running water, the tub steaming with scalding water. Arms wrapped around your middle gently as you shut the cabinet, Jeff’s nose burying into the crook of your neck as he fell limp against your back.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, his face against your skin as he breathed deep, taking in your smell. You smiled, reaching back to brush his hair back before playing yet another kiss on his warm forehead. “Hush. You need to get better, and that mansion is no place to relax. Don’t worry about it.” Despite reassuring him, Jeff still held a defeated look.

Dropping the medicine onto your sink counter, you turned to help him take off his shirt, his hands doing their best to hold onto your arms the entire time. Clingy. 

“I got it.” He huffed, tossing his shirt to the ground.

“I know you do.” You smiled up at him. You undid his belt anyway, undressing him the rest of the way with little protest. There was no flirtatious comment, no sly touches, just a weak, sick boy who wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. It was sweet.

Jeff stepped into the bath, and you left him to get a cup of water. He drank the pills down, skin blotching red with the heat of the water, but at least he looked more relaxed. He was so lengthy, he had to bend his knees to fit comfortably, which you laughed at.

You knelt beside the tub, using that same cup to collect water and rinse his hair. You ran your fingers through the messy strands, his quiet groans making you smile as you poured a small dab of shampoo onto the palm of your hand. Tired eyes watched you carefully when you began to scrub his head, lathering the shampoo between the strands and massaging his scalp. He was falling apart underneath you, soapy bubbles drifting into the water while you washed him off. 

His hands cupped your own, kissing your wrists. He was being so gentle, it almost gave you whiplash. There was no off comment about you catering to him, or being a jerk just for the hell of it; he was being oddly sweet. Maybe his being sick wasn’t so bad.

Until you zoned back into his coughing fit, strained coughs that looked like they physically hurt. You rinsed his hair, careful not to get the soapy water into the gashes on his face as he settled down.

You wiped the water from his face, his clammy skin wet under your hands as you went to stand. Jeff leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall of the tub while you collected his clothes, letting him know you’d be right back.

You needed to do laundry anyway, so grabbing the rest of the killer’s dirty clothing and tossing them into your load was easy enough. They reeked of dirt and outside, splotches of dried blood staining the sleeves of his hoodie. You didn’t want to know about the mission; you didn’t want to know what in the hell caused these stains, but you were sure he’d tell you sometime anyway.

Starting the machine, you shuffled back to your room, rummaging through your drawers for something that the killer could wear. You ended up on a t-shirt that was baggy on you but would fit him perfectly, a pair of boxers he left the last time he was here and sweatpants that would be good enough until his clothes were dry.

You stepped back into the bathroom, clothes in hand, and Jeff turned to look up at you. He had already cleaned himself off, water slowly draining from the tub as you helped him climb out. “Feel better?”

He nodded, reaching for the towels you had hanging off the edge of the tub and drying himself off. You set the clothes down, hands reaching to dry off his hair as he dressed himself. 

You knew it had to feel so much better to be in clean clothes, let alone something that wasn’t jeans and a hoodie riddled with filth. Jeff seemed content enough, but more than anything, he looked tired. Exhausted.

“Alright, time for bed.” The sun was just starting to set outside your window, thick orange light flooding through the curtains as Jeff followed you back into the bedroom. You wouldn’t be going to sleep for some time, but you were sure the killer would be out in minutes.

Pulling back the sheets of your bed, Jeff climbed in, body nearly giving out as soon as his weak body got under the warm covers. “I’ll let you rest, tell me if you need anythin-”

Jeff didn’t give you the chance, barely getting a foot away from the bed before he was dragging you in too. You smiled, his arms wrapping around your waist and throwing the covers over the two of you. “Aw man, you’re gonna get me sick-”

You couldn’t help but smile as Jeff delivered sickly sweet kisses across your cheeks, lying you both down as his arms caged you in, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Then I guess we’ll just have to be sick together then, baby.” You knew a sly smile would break out of him sooner or later.

You both relaxed into each other, wrapping the covers tight as the sun set slowly against the pretty snow. The fireplace still crackled in your living room, the whole house warm compared to the brutal cold Jeff had been forced into days before. 

Running your hands through his now-clean hair, Jeff groaned, practically purring when his eyes began to close, tight grip around your back faltering slightly as you realized the sinus meds were finally kicking in, that dazed look behind his expression. As if he wasn’t tired enough, this would have him knocked for the whole next day.

It didn’t matter to you, you’d be there tomorrow to cater to him too, taking care of the killer who rarely ever let himself go like this. 

Planting one last kiss on his jaw, you felt his chest slowly rise and fall, gentle snores dragging out underneath you. Leaning back, you grabbed the remote to your TV off the nightstand, turning some show you needed to catch up on with low volume. You realized you needed to relax too, the winter season having you run a mile a minute, so this would be a good excuse to worry about something other than your crazy life.

With one final tug on the back of your shirt, you let your own eyes close, the sun finally set as a pretty blanket of dark sky finally shown through the window.

“G’night [Y/N]…”

-

Jeff was there by your side when you became sick the week after, a terrible fever that wouldn't break no matter how many baths or rags he placed on your forehead.

He felt bad, sure, but he felt even better that he got to make fun of your terribly red face and nasty cough that he didn’t have to deal with anymore.

Even sick, you somehow managed to win every argument or put the killer back in his place. You made him repay his stupidness with healthy fast-food runs and kisses. He quickly learned to keep his mouth shut. 

In sickness and in health, you guess.

Ticci Toby ▸

Technically, Toby couldn’t feel the pain of being sick.

He never got the sting of a sore throat, or the ache behind your ears when you sneezed too much, or even the pounding head and body aches that kept people from getting up. No, he bragged about never being defeated by strep throat or the flu.

But what he did feel was the pressure, and the fatigue, and the awful way your stomach just refused to hold down any solids.

So, when it got so bad he couldn’t shove it aside anymore to complete another mission, he found himself knocking on your door.

And he was not happy about it.

“Toby, you have got to lie down.” You huffed, his limp arms in your hands as you tried and failed to drag him towards your bedroom. He was acting as if he couldn’t walk, feet glued to their respective spots in your kitchen. The brunette always played a little childish, but right now he was just being plain juvenile.

“Nah. I just swung by to gra- grab some food, there’s nothing good at th- the mansion.” Even as you held him, the boy still browsed your cabinets and pantry for snacks. You would have been more than happy to offer, but Toby had already eaten a bowl of your chili leftovers, two bags of chips, and was going for pastries next. It was like being sick turned him into a human vacuum.

“I know, but you’re freezing, hun. Your face is so red it looks like you’re going to explode. You need to get under some covers.” Toby could blame that on lying face-down in the snow for an hour, completely oblivious to the pin-pricking sharpness of the cold on his cheeks, or the frostbite that was forming at the edge of his nose. He never felt a thing, completely lost in the weightless blanket of powder underneath him. He would’ve stayed there another hour or two if Tim hadn’t jerked him up and yelled at him for being an idiot.

But now he was here, sick as a dog and getting harassed by his partner who was just trying to help. Tim was sick at the mansion, too. What luck.

“I’m fine. It’s just a co-cold or something. Quit baby- babying me.” Toby couldn’t tell if it was his tics or the uncontrollable shakiness in his hands, but he dropped a pack of crackers he’d fished out of your pantry. He groaned in frustration, crouching down to grab them, but you snatched the package up first.

“You’re not fine, Toby. You’re pale as a ghost, your voice is raspier than usual, and you can’t even hold onto a pack of crackers. Just let me help you.” You set the crackers on the counter and put your hands on your hips, glaring down at him. He glared right back, his dark eyes narrowed and defiant.

“Don’t ne- need help,” he muttered, though the stubborn edge in his voice faltered as another violent shiver racked his body. He clutched his arms around himself, but you could see how badly his fingers trembled. The eye-roll you delivered him could kill. 

“Yes, you do. Come on, Toby. Just this once, let me take care of you.” Your tone softened, and you crouched down so you were at eye level with him. “You’re not going to get better if you keep ignoring yourself like this.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours. For all his bravado, Toby wasn’t immune to the weight of your concern. You perceived the world differently than he did, concerned with the trivial things of sickness or relaxation, while the brunette hardly cared if his skin was rotting off (it was). Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Fine. But only for a little while.”

“Thank you.” You stood and held out your hand to him. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Toby reluctantly took your hand, and you helped him to his feet. He leaned on you more than he probably realized, his steps unsteady as you guided him to your bedroom. Once there, you pulled back the blankets and helped him sit down on the edge of the bed. In the light of snow through your window, you really got a good look at just how pale he was, lips a subtle shade of purple that would’ve had any normal boy in a hospital.

You helped him shed his ragged jacket, kicking off his boots until he was in the barest clothes he had stumbled into your house with. 

“Alright, lie down,” you instructed, gently pushing on his shoulder. He grumbled something under his breath but complied, sinking into the mattress with a groan. You pulled the blankets up over him, tucking them around his shoulders.

“This is stu- stupid,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. He was facedown, something so childish, like a kid upset his mom was making him go to school. 

“It’s not stupid. It’s called taking care of yourself,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Now, stay put. I’m going to get you some water and medicine.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes were already closed. You smiled softly, relief washing over you as you left the room. Finally, he was letting you help. Now all you had to do was nurse him back to health—and maybe convince him that it was okay to lean on someone else every once in a while.

-

The next few days were a blur of soup, medicine, and relentless efforts to keep Toby in bed. He protested at every turn, grumbling about how he didn’t need to be babied, but his body betrayed him. The fever left him weak and sluggish, his usual energy reduced to mere fragments of what it once was. After having to literally calm him down with a healthy dose of cough medicine, he finally stopped berating you.

“This is the worst,” Toby groaned, his voice hoarse as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets you’d tucked around him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his cheeks were flushed from the lingering fever. What started as cold chills and sickly paleness had sprung into a hot mess of trying to break the fever the brunette wasn’t aware he had. Once his body actually laid down, got some medicine, and got under some warmth, it finally started trying to heal itself. The only good thing about this was his body was so busy trying not to combust that his tics were on the back burner. His muscles were so weak, they really didn’t hold the energy.

“You’re getting better,” you reassured him, sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl of soup in your hands. “Here, eat this. You need to keep your strength up.”

He eyed the bowl with disdain but reluctantly took it from you. “You’re en- enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Enjoying what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Bossing me around.” He smirked weakly, but it lacked his usual snarky bite.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But only because it’s for your own good.”

Toby rolled his eyes but started eating the soup anyway. You watched him carefully, noting the way his hands shook less than they had the day before. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

By the third day, the fever broke. Toby woke up looking more like himself, his energy slowly returning. He still tried to downplay how sick he’d been, but you caught the gratitude in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Thanks,” he mumbled one evening, leaning against the doorway as you cleaned up the kitchen. He was wearing one of your hoodies, the sleeves too short for his arms, but all of his dirt-covered clothes were in the middle of a wash.

“For what?” you asked, turning to face him.

“For... y’know. Put- Putting up with me. Helping m- me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the floor. Even with sickness deteriorating, that pink still lingered in his pale cheeks. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”

“You don’t have to be,” you said softly, walking over to him. “That’s what I’m here for. Next time, don’t wait until you’re half-dead to ask for help, okay? One day you’re going to kill yourself just because you’re stubborn.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Impossible.”

“Toby.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll t- try.”

“Good.” You smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek, running your fingers across the scars that littered the skin. He cupped your hand, tired eyes roaming your features as he leaned in, pressing a firm kiss on your forehead. It was only when you reached up to ruffle his hair that he swatted your hand away, but your smile didn’t falter.

-

As the days went on, Toby fully recovered, though he still feined needing to stick around your house just to be sure. Your pantry was nearly run through, and every snack you had planned to eat mysteriously disappeared despite your boyfriend’s testimonials. But you didn’t mind. Seeing him back to his usual self was all the thanks you needed. He would be buying you more, though.

But knowing Toby, you weren’t holding your breath.

Tim Wright▸

The snow was relentless, blanketing the world outside in a thick, quiet stillness. 

Tim was a shadow against the swirling white, his broad shoulders hunched as he trudged up the path to your door. His steps were uneven, his breath visible in harsh puffs against the icy air, and it was clear he wasn’t in good shape. You barely managed to open the door before he stumbled inside, shaking the snow off his coat and muttering a half-hearted apology.

“Tim?” you gasped, reaching out to steady him. He was freezing to the touch, his skin pale and his lips tinged with blue. “You’re ice-cold. What are you doing out in this weather? You should’ve called me.”

“Didn’t want to bother you,” he grumbled, his voice rough and strained. He tried to wave you off, but his hands trembled as he shuffled his heavy jacket off. “I’m fine. Just need to get out of all that.” The Operator had shoved him and Brian too far, Masky and Hoodie nearly ready to saw off some heads if they had to spend one more night in the frigid snow. He knew he shouldn’t bother you, shouldn’t cross that line of his affairs and your relationship, but he knew he wouldn’t make it back to the mansion tonight.

“You are not fine,” you said firmly, taking his arm and guiding him toward the couch. “At least come inside and warm up.” You were still in your pajamas, on your way to bed when you heard the haphazard knocks on your door. 

Tim hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, but the weight of his exhaustion won out. He let you lead him, collapsing onto the cushions with a groan. The sight of him like this—so worn down and vulnerable—made your heart ache. Tim was always the strong one, the steady rock everyone leaned on, but now he looked utterly defeated.

You grabbed a blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over him, fussing despite his weak protests. “Stay put. I’ll get you something hot to drink.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, but his voice was softer this time, less convincing. He leaned back against the couch, his head tipping against the cushion as he closed his eyes. You hurried to the kitchen, boiling water for tea and pulling together a simple plate of muffins that took less than a minute to heat up in the microwave. You would make him a proper meal later, right now he just needed to get warm. When you returned, he hadn’t moved, his breathing shallow but steady. You set the tea down on the table in front of him and nudged his shoulder gently.

“Drink this,” you said. “It’ll help.”

Tim opened his eyes, glancing at the cup before taking it with a quiet disgust. He sipped the tea slowly, his large hands dwarfing the mug, and you sat beside him, watching him closely. He much preferred the bitter taste of coffee, but something warm in his stomach was better than nothing. After a few moments of silence, he sighed, his shoulders slumping further under the weight of the blanket.

“I’m sorry, love,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from the tea. “I won’t stay long. You need to get back to bed.” 

“I’m alright,” you said softly, “I’ll kill you before that storm does if you make it out that door again.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he set the mug down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m alright. I’ll rest for a while, then get out of your hair. I need to get back before they send someone after me.”

“That’s okay,” you said, placing a hand on his back. “You’ve got at least the rest of the night before someone comes looking. Nobody is trudging through this storm just to get you, hun. You need to relax. You deserve to be cared for, too.”

Tim let out a shaky breath, his hand scrubbing over his face. He knew there was no fighting it anyway, you held some power over him even he couldn’t figure out. Your sweet words and touches were enough to stop him from war, he thought. “I- Okay, just until morning.”

“Good,” you said, your voice gentle. “Now rest, you need it.”

Tim closed his eyes, the tension in his body slowly easing as he let himself relax. It hurt your heart to see him so defeated, but if it took sickness to finally get him to relax, then so be it. You sat beside him, keeping watch as the snow continued to fall outside, a quiet reminder that even as big and strong as Tim was, he was still just as vulnerable to the cold as anyone else.

-

As the hours passed, Tim drifted off into a hazy state of staring at the fireplace, his breathing rough and uneven. The man didn’t sleep—he never did—but right now you really wish he would. You stayed by his side though, curled up next to him and monitoring his every cold chill. 

You couldn’t help but feel a deep ache for him, seeing him like this—so worn down and fragile, yet still trying to be the strong, unbreakable as he always was. He let out a quiet groan as he shifted on the couch, his breath shallow, and for a moment, he barely seemed aware of his own discomfort. You were glad you had lit your fireplace hours before he arrived, the bright glow and gentle cracking of the logs under the flames, the heat radiating well enough to warm the whole house.

You gently touched his arm, trying to stir him from his restless half-awake daze. “Tim, you need medicine,” you said softly, your voice gentle yet firm. "You're burning up, and I need to make sure you don’t have a fever.”

Tim’s dark eyes blinked with confusion, and for a moment, he looked disoriented (meaning he was so far in the pits of his mind that there was no telling how disassociated he had become just from sitting here). The firelight danced on his tired face, casting soft shadows over the sharp lines of his features. “I’m fine,” he muttered hoarsely, but the words were weak, lacking the usual conviction. He barely had the strength to lift his head as he tried to wave you off. “I don’t need any medicine. Just a little rest.”

You frowned, your hand resting lightly on his forehead, the heat radiating from his skin like a warning. He was dangerously close to a fever, and no matter how much he fought it, he needed help. He just couldn’t see it. “I’m not asking,” you said softly, brushing back the damp strands of his hair. “A little rest won’t hold out.”

You wondered how Masky was taking the whole ordeal. You decided if his host was sick and weak, the alter probably wouldn’t want to front in such an unprefferable state. 

Tim didn’t argue this time, his eyes flickering with mental strain. He let out a small sigh as you stood and walked into your bathroom, the quiet sound of your movements a comfort to him in the midst of his foggy, feverish haze. You pulled out the small bottle of medicine from the cabinet, one you always kept stocked for moments like these—when he pushed himself too far, too hard, until his body couldn’t keep up with the strain. This wasn’t the first time he had stumbled into your home due to his ailments, and you were very sure it wouldn’t be the last.

You returned to the couch with the bottle and a glass of water, gently helping Tim sit up, his body unsteady as you supported him. His gaze met yours, conflicted, but he didn’t argue. You could see how much he wanted to be strong, to be the one taking care of everything, but right now, he needed someone to take care of him. And you were more than willing to be that person.

“Drink this,” you urged softly, holding the glass to his lips. “It’ll help bring your fever down. You’re not going anywhere until it does.”

He hesitated, eyes narrowing in that familiar stubborn way, but the trembling in his hands gave him away. With a heavy sigh, he took the glass from you and swallowed the medicine in a few quick gulps. He winced, but when he set the glass down, his gaze softened, a brief flicker of gratitude in his tired eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You smiled, brushing a gentle hand over his shoulder, offering the smallest of comforts as he settled back against the couch.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied quietly. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Tim’s lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but his exhaustion overtook him, his body sinking back into the softness of the cushions, his glazing over once more against the firelight. You didn’t need him to say anything. You could feel the weight of his gratitude, the trust he placed in you without saying a word.

You moved to the kitchen again. His body was still weak, but it needed fuel to help fight off the cold and the fever. You knew he wouldn’t ask for a meal, never would. But you also knew he needed it. You’d learned long ago that showing care was sometimes the quietest, most effective way to love him—through the meals you made, the medicine you administered, the silent acts of kindness that spoke louder than words ever could.

But, a bowl of soup would have to do for right now.

The smell of broth began to fill the house, a gentle, soothing scent that would help settle Tim’s stomach once he slowly phased back to reality. You checked on him every few minutes, ensuring he stayed warm, covering him with an extra blanket when you noticed him shiver. His breath was a little steadier now, the worst of the fever easing off, and the signs of his discomfort had lessened just enough for him to be able to relax. 

You made sure to brew a pot of fresh coffee, too. That breakfast brew he seemed to enjoy so much, the smell wafting through the house and silently altering the man. 

Finally, when the soup was ready, you returned to him, holding the bowl and mug in your hands and a small spoon at the ready. He looked up at you, his eyes soft, tired but grateful. You helped him sit up once more, this time offering him the warm, comforting food he needed to heal.

“You’ve got to eat something,” you said gently, pressing the spoon into his hand. “You need your strength.”

Tim took the spoon and scooped a small portion of the soup, eating slowly, savoring the warmth it brought to his cold body. Each spoonful was another step toward recovery, and with each one, he seemed to relax just a little bit more, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let you care for him. He took gentle sips of the coffee, the taste seeming to steady him better than the tea had earlier, the tension lines in his face finally evening out.

When the bowl was empty, you set it aside and brushed your fingers through his hair again, a tender gesture. “Better?”

He gave a small nod, his eyes now fully closed, his body finally beginning to give in to the warmth and the comfort you’d provided. He didn’t speak, but his hand found yours, gripping it loosely, a silent thanks for everything you had done.

“Need anything else?” You brushed his cheek, the stinging warmth still hot on his skin, but evidently cooler than it had been. He scanned your face for a moment, dark eyes roaming over features he had studied a thousand times, but finally had an answer.

“I’ve got a cig pack in my jacket…” The way his eyebrows twinged upwards gave you all the hint you needed, a small chuckle rising from his chest. You slid over to the door where he had discarded his jacket, rummaging through compartment pockets that held tool knives or bullet casings, but finally landing on the half-empty carton of cigarettes, his lighter tucked neatly inside. You picked out one, lighter in hand as you sat back on the couch.

Tim went to reach for the thing before you shook your head, holding the orange end to his lips with a small smile. He took the cig, your hand following and cupping over the end as you flicked his lighter to a spark, lighting the end. It smoldered, smoke slowly rising from the stick and into the air of your house. You would worry about the smell later.

A deep breath in and you could phsyically see the tension in his shoulders loosen.

This went on for the rest of the night, the slow rotation between cigarettes and refilled cups of coffee as you stayed by his side, arms latched around his own as your head rested on his shoulder.

He slowly shed the blankets, too, the sunlight break finally hitting over the horizon and filtering into your living room. By the time his fever was gone (broken in one night out of pure stubbornness), you were quietly snoring beside him, body curled up under his arm.

He took the time to carry you to your bedroom, slotting you under the covers with numerous gentle kisses across your cheeks. He cleaned the living room and kitchen, washing the bowl and mugs he had dirtied and sorting them away, making sure to tidy everything as the early hours of the morning rolled around. 

He was there to make you food when you finally woke up, returning every favor you had offered the night before. You found yourself at his side on the couch again, watching the snow in the daylight.

You stayed by his side, your presence a quiet promise that you would always be there to take care of him, just as he had always done for you.

In the warmth of your home, surrounded by the gentle sounds of his steady breathing and the comforting scent of the meal he had made, everything felt like it was exactly where it needed to be. You didn’t need words to say it—your love for each other was already in everything you did.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[system-network]

Creepypastas with a sleepy SO

This totally isn't me projecting... Also, a reminder that if you like my writing my inbox is open for requests!! I take drabbles and head canon posts

Ticci Toby

-He's so down to just cuddle with you

-He has to be forced out of your grip if he needs to do something

-Toby would be salty that he couldn't stay in bed with you so he'd force you to get up as well

-If he can't nap, then you can't either

-Your sleeping habits formed some tics

-One of his main tics that developed was “honk mimimi” and his eyes will rapidly blink like he's sleeping and waking up

-You also yawn quite frequently, which makes him yawn

-It’s an ongoing cycle

-Long story short, you get sleepy, he gets sleepy

Eyeless Jack

-Bro is concerned!!!

-He understands the need for a nap, but the fact that you'll fall asleep if you get slightly comfortable no matter what? He doesn't think that's a good thing

-He makes you do busy work, he'll ask you to get him something from across the room even if he didn't need it

-Of course he'd let you take a nap, but he won't let it be frequent

-It gets so bad that he once found you asleep in a cabinet

-Since he's a demon, he doesn't need as much sleep as a human, but it seems like you need triple the amount of sleep as an average human

Brian Thomas & Hoodie

-Brian is slightly concerned

-He understands that people get tired and need a nap

-But NO WAY you're actually this sleepy of a person??

-He'll find you sleeping on the floor in front of the TV, even if the couches are open for you

-Brian is definitely strong, so no matter what you'll always end up waking up in your bed.

-Hoodie on the other hand..

-Hoodie wakes you up whenever you fall asleep

-He's simply making sure that you wouldn't get in trouble for “slacking off”

-Plus, he loves seeing you wake up

-The way you try rubbing your eyes after he wakes up you up makes him absolutely melt

-But if he sees that you're exhausted and you need a little break, he'll let you take a nap in his room

Tim Wright & Masky

-Tim gets it

-He's a tired person too

-If you're on the couch he'll sit next to you and sleep as you two watch a movie

-He simply doesn't give a fuck

-He keeps a blanket on standby for these moments

-If someone else does try to wake you, he'll get grumpy

-”I swear to god, get away from them before I drag you outside-”

-Masky is MEANN

-He would definitely pour cold water on you if he finds you sleeping during the day

-Smug bastard will also shake you awake

-Masky isn't a big fan of cuddling, but sometimes he's too tired to care to push you away whenever you snuggle up to him

-He'd never admit it, but he is only slightly worried about your sleeping habits

[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

- 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚗��𝚜 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 𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚝𝚎𝚗 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!

[thediaryofaurora]

𖧐Kinktober - Day 3𖧐

Theme: Car sex / stranded

Pairing: Ticci Toby x colleague!reader

CW: NSFW, dry humping, f!reader, riding

Word count: 1.0k

Side note: Sorry this is late, I’ve been caught up in doctor appointments, but good news is I’m off my crutches 🧚 Also I didn’t prepare for Kinktober what so ever, burnout is going CRAZY. I’m gonna spend the weekend preparing more, but day 4 might be a little late also 💔

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

“I-I already tried, damn en-engine won’t start.” Toby huffs, putting his hands in his pockets while he leans against the trunk.

“Then what the hell are we supposed to do??”

It’s the middle of winter for fuck’s sake, walking nearly 90 miles back to the mansion would take days, probably even get you both killed in the process. You already notified Tim, but even in a car it’ll take over an hour.

“W-we might as well get back in the car. I-it’s better than standing o-out here with the wind.”

“I guess.” You grumble, opening the driver’s side door and slipping in, Toby following suit.

Being shielded from the wind and light snow is definitely better than waiting outside and getting frostbite, but the temperature in the car had still dropped once the heat was turned off.

“It’s too fucking cold for this, are you sure we didn’t pack any matches?”

“No l-lighter either.”

Sighing, you put the keys back in the ignition, hoping for any chance of it turning on.

Vrrrrr, pufk

“Piece of shit.”

You two had already been out in the cold for half an hour, having to walk back from your mission, and looking down at your hands turning a faint purple makes the situation even more urgent.

“Get in the back.” You gruff, climbing over the center console and into the backseat. Toby doesn’t hesitate to follow, if you have an idea to keep you both from freezing to death he’s open to it.

“A-are we huddling?”

He chuckles, resting against the door while you crawl on top of him. No wonder he’s not as worried about the whole ordeal as you, he’s barely cold. You nestle up against him, draping your arm around his chest with a sigh. Even though you both had known each other for a while, he’s obviously nervous, the way his rapid heart beat is thumping in your ear while you rest your head on his chest making that clear.

Trying to take in any warmth you can get, you drape your leg over his hips, then you feel it: the reason he’s so nervy.

Maybe you can help him out, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Gently you grind down on him, enough for him to not know if you actually are or if he just wishes you were. Slowly but surely you begin to add more weight, and more, and more. After a few minutes it’s noticeable the way you’re perfectly rubbing your clothed cunt against his restrained boner.

His breath starts picking up, his wood only getting harder as you make it obvious what you’re doing. Your head is still rested on his chest, his heart thumping even louder than before.

You had been doing it for a few minutes now, keeping a steady pace of dry humping this poor, desperate boy. A small whimper escaping his lips as he begins bucking his hips up into yours, moving his hands down to your ass and pulling you closer onto him, his fully hard cock now rubbing perfectly against your swollen bud.

Now you’re both grinding into each other, the friction too much to handle. You need him.

Quickly you pull off of him, letting a whine. Your knees are on either side of his hips, hastily undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. All he can do is look at you in awe, his eyes big and greedy as he watches you slip his pants down. His dick springs out, the tip already red and shining with precum. You slide off your bottoms, revealing your puffy, wet pussy. His length twitches as you position your hole above his needy cock.

Slowly you begin lower yourself onto him, his tip barely brushing your hole while it pulsates on his most sensitive part.

Toby has always been a beat it and get it over with kind of guy, not bothering to even use lotion while watching porn; so now, you slowly sliding down his girth makes it difficult not to cum immediately.

Your hole clenches around him while you take your time adjusting, his throbbing cock making you want to slam down on it. He stretches you good, but the pain can’t compare to the pure nirvana of him being inside you.

It’s half way in, just almost hitting your cervix. His heavy breaths have turned into pants, sweet little whines in between while you slide down.

“H-mghn… Y-y-y/n- please-“ His voice is a pure whine as he begs for more, his attempts to buck up into you stopped by your hands pushing his hips down to the seat.

The tip finally hit your sweet spot, your hips rolling against his as you adjust to the girth. You start picking up your pace, shamelessly riding him as you feel your high coming to a breaking point. It’s obvious his is too, his mouth agape while he pants and whimpers incoherent pleads.

Your climax comes crashing down over you, riding out your high on his twitching dick, your once freezing face now dripping with sweat. Toby came right after, his cum spilling out of you as you pulled off of him.

The car’s windows were completely unusable, the condensation too thick to see through. Small droplets of water formed and raced down, your body heats immediately filling the streak.

Toby’s dazed panting below you, eyes fluttering open and shut with every breath, his shaky hands still holding onto your hips as you lay back down with him.

A loud knock on the window startled the two of you, Tim’s voice breaking the silence.

“You better be clothed when you come out of there.”

Together you both gather your clothes and redress, stepping out of the humid vehicle into the baby blizzard. Tim’s car is pulled over to the side of the road in the distance, his headlights flashing.

You and Toby stumble behind him, your legs weak and unstable. At least you stayed warm.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

Kinktober Masterlist

Creepypasta Masterlist

[oldwritingm]

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[blxrrii]

Proxy Edging Headcanons

I hope this isn't too cringe. Enjoy!

NSFW Below the cut! Read at your own discretion

Masky:

Loves it.

Will literally watch as you peak and then slow down just enough where it doesn’t completely kill your buildup but also doesn’t let you finish.

He wants to watch you beg. Beg him to let you release, to cum all over his dick. He loves the power, knows that he has full control over you and that you’re at his will.

Go ahead, sunshine, show me how much you want to come

It gives him an ego boost, seeing tears fall down your pretty face because of how built up you are waiting for release.

Attempting to edge Masky is practically impossible

He only ever doms, and only ever wants complete and utter control of what’s going on in the bedroom

If he even senses that you’re trying to play games with him, well-

1) if he’s in a good mood, he’ll probably be amused, and draw it out a little while longer to see where you’re headed with it.

2) If he’s in a bad mood, he’ll waste no time putting you in your place.He’ll flip you over and blow your back out, whispering into your ear about how you’re nothing but holes for him to fill, and will practically force you to repeat out loud for everyone in close vicinity to hear. 

In the end he’ll leave you a blubbering mess, with only the knowledge that you’re his cocksleeve

Hoodie:

Your whines are a sweet melody to him

He’ll fuck your cunt mercilessly, but the moment he hears your breathing increase rapidly and your moans get louder, he’ll slow down

He practically lives for how your pussy tightens against his dick in search for more.

Rubs at your clit while you whine and plead him to continue. 

Once he does, he’ll go right back at it, degrading you as if he weren’t the one who left you hot and bothered.

Are you really that desperate for my cock?

Hoodie is a patient man, and could definitely keep up doing the same thing for a while

He’ll bring you just before your peak, then bring you back down midway. He’ll keep at it until you’re reduced to nothing but a desperate, needy slut.

And the worst part about it all is that he’ll make it seem as if it was your fault, or that it was some sort of burden to make you come as if he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.

Hoodie is one of those people where, even if you think you are domming, you never are

You could be riding him and he could be doing nothing but laying there— but the moment he flashes a smile you’re suddenly at his whims at moving to please him.

Edging Brian would be hard, because it’s all praise and wanting approval with him that even the idea of it completely flies from your mind.

But — if you do manage to get past that, Hoodie would challenge you, in a sense. See how far you could hold this act

Though, somehow, it always ends up in you crying and begging for release, doesn’t it?

Ticci Toby

Toby fucks just as wild as his personality is

That being said, Toby isn’t all too great at keeping you from coming

If he knows you’re enjoying it, and he’s gaining pleasure from it as well, why stop or slow down?

He does enjoy hearing you beg, and will tease you until he’s heard you whine just enough

Come on, tell me how bad you want to come all over my dick

Edging him…. Well

Toby is vocal during sex, especially if he bottoms.

His voice is scratchy and hits the ears just right, particularly when he’s whispering pleas into it and running his fingers across your body.

It’s cute, if anything. The way you have him so easily wrapped around your finger, have him pleading like a little puppy

You're his, and he is yours

[stnkiconverse]

Hii :3 could I have sum of the creep boys (Ej, Toby, Jeff, Masky and Hoodie) with a reader who likes marking (bites/cuts/hickeys) their thighs? Pls and thank u 💛

This has been collecting dust in my drafts for months, im so sorry bby, i just needed to have my masky and hoodie headcanons in place before posting this😭😭

Also- Ik you said thighs, but i did mention some other places, i hope you don’t mind :3

E Y E L E S S J A C K

Jack is surprisingly unbothered by your habit. He views it with a mix of curiosity and amusement, often analyzing your techniques silently. (like this = 🤨)

"Hmm. Is this an attempt at branding? Or is this just for fun?" His DRY ASS humor makes it hard to tell if he's teasing or genuinely questioning.

He’s not fond of pain but does not shy from it either. The marks don't bother him, they heal faster than you think anyway.

If you center the attack on his thighs, he'll arch a brow and say something quick and sarcastic, like, "I'm honored you've chosen me as your personal canvas."

Jack has super sharp senses, so he's super aware of your touch. If you bite or leave cuts near sensitive spots, hips, or neck, for example, he might tense for a moment but never stop you.

His favorite places for you to mark? His shoulders or his ribs. He finds the sensation grounding in a strange way, though he'll never admit it. (he moaned once)

If you tease him about it, he'll deadpan: "Just don't expect me to reciprocate. My claws aren't…delicate." (😏)

T I C C I T O B Y

Toby is a little awkward about it at first, not used to someone being so physically affectionate in such an intense way. But once he gets used to it? He's all in. (fucking weirdo 😒 / lovingly)

He doesn't actually feel pain like others do, (obv) so he lets you go wild without flinching. "You're gonna have to try harder than that to leave a mark on me," he'd tease, looking down later to grin at the faint bruises or bites.

If you target his thighs, he might giggle a bit, kicking his leg. "That tickles, stop- stop!"

Neck and collarbone marks fluster him the most. He'll try to hide them with his hoodie but secretly love that they're there.

Sometimes, he'll encourage you in his chaotic way: "Oh, you missed a spot. Try here!" and point to random places like his back or ribs, sometimes even shoving his wrists in your face 😭😭

If you ever leave too many marks, he'll grin like a maniac and joke: "Guess I'm your chew toy now, huh?"

J E F F T H E K I L L E R

Jeff would be cocky about it, but secretly flustered. He'd smirk and say something snarky like, "Didn't know you were that desperate to get your hands on me," but the redness creeping up his neck gives him away.

He doesn't mind pain and might even enjoy it a little. If you bite too hard, he'll laugh and go, "Is that all you've got? You're gonna have to try harder."

Loves when you leave marks on his neck, it makes him feel a twisted sense of pride. He'll strut around the manor like a smug idiot, showing them off.

His thighs are a sensitive spot, though he won't admit it. If you target them, he'll squirm slightly and mutter, "Don't get any ideas..." but he won't stop you. (bcs he likes it 😏)

If you leave cuts or scratches, he'll trace them with his fingers absentmindedly, secretly loving the way they look.

"You're turning me into your personal art project, huh? Not that I'm complaining."

T I M / M A S K Y

Masky (Tim)

Tim is not immediately comfortable it, especially if it's in a more vulnerable spot like his neck or inner thighs. He'll tense up and grumble, "What are you doing?" but he won't push you away :3

Over time, he warms up to it, especially when he realizes it's your way of showing affection. He won't admit it, but he finds it oddly reassuring :p

Marks on his shoulders or upper back are his favorite. He won't say anything, but you might catch him subtly glancing at them in the mirror (😏)

If you bite too hard, he'll sigh and mutter, "You know I have to cover that up, right?" while pulling on another layer of clothing (i love him guys)

Surprisingly, he doesn't mind if you mark his thighs when he's sitting or lounging. He might roll his eyes but secretly enjoys the attention.

"You're a little too into this, you know that?" he'd say with the tiniest smirk, though the faint blush on his face betrays him.

B R I A N / H O O D I E

Hoodie (Brian)

Brian is surprisingly chill about your habit and takes it in stride :D

He'll joke, "Do I look like a notebook to you? Or is this some modern art thing?"

He's not huge on pain, so if you bite too hard or draw blood, he might flinch and gently push you away. "Careful, I'm not indestructible."

Loves when you leave hickeys or gentle bites on his shoulders or chest. He finds them oddly comforting and will trace them when he's alone, smiling softly.

If you go for his thighs, he'll laugh and tease you: "That's bold. Didn't take you for a thigh person."

Occasionally, he'll play along and say something like, "You missed a spot," pointing to random areas just to see you flustered.

Brian enjoys the possessive nature of your markings but is too reserved to admit it outright.

Instead, he'll say something teasing like, "Guess I'm yours now, huh?"

I hope this was good enough!! :D

sorry to keep you waiting so long 😭

[cadavercleaner]

Creeps from memory drawn by @eggzben3dict (posted here bc they dont fit his account💀💀)

Closeups !!

(God I love how EJ Jane and smile dog look omgomgomg)

[endataraxia]

creepypasta kinks.

featuring eyeless jack, jeff the killer, masky, hoodie, and ticci toby.

cw: nsfw, knifeplay, blood, cnc.

Eyeless Jack finds his libido to only be elevated after his transformation into a demon. A helpless victim writhing in the grasp of his own carnal desires, he is left with no choice and seeks you out.

Marking. You are his. You are his, and every being, every living creature that lays eyes on you has to know it. The bite marks on your skin are perfect, perfect negative impressions of his impressive set of teeth. He finds the blood dripping from the deepest indentations on your neck to be beautiful.

Dirty talk. “Mine, mine, you’re all mine.” He whispers in your ear, licking at it, teasing its shell. Shivers run down your spine.

Manhandling, also linked to a size difference kink. Jack had always been a tall man, but after transforming, he had grown even taller and bigger, beyond what could possibly be considered normal. His silhouette engulfs yours, enabling him to pick you up with ease, toss you on his bed, carry you and fuck you.

Mirrors. He fucks you in front of a mirror and commands you to look at yourself. Look at you, just how delectable you look while his cock thrusts into you. You’re so red, you’re so bothered.

Breeding and creampies. But he’s not done with you yet, he tells you as he watches his seed drip out of your ruined hole. For even if your hole is useless, you still have other ones.

Jeffrey Woods has always been tightly wound, always ready to snap. It’s no surprise he takes his frustrations out fucking you, whether it be hateful fucking, or…well, it’s actually really mostly just that.

Consensual non-consent. You will be his, even when you don’t want to be, or at least act like you don’t. He’ll grab you, by the wrists, your hair, even your neck, and he will take you wherever and whenever he pleases.

Knife play. “You’re so beautiful when you bleed,” he’ll remark, and the occasional, “I want you and I covered all up in your blood.” And so cover himself in your blood he does, your vision fading as you bleed away.

Impact play. He’ll slap you, your butt, your face, wherever he pleases. You are not a person to him, not in that moment. You are his object to fuck and make use of. His pleasure is number one in his mind.

Licking and marking—though not out of affection. It’s a twisted possession, a wicked obsession. His, his, his. Blood drips everywhere. Red is all he sees. Red is all you are. Bleeding out in his bed.

Timothy “Masky” Wright’s personalities blend. Masky, and Tim. No, not Masky; Tim. Not Tim; Masky. Oh, what’s going on in his head? Why can’t he seem to control himself?

- Bondage. He must tie you up. He has to. The Operator wills it. Masky grabs the rope; Tim resists. He mustn’t tie his precious darling up. But Masky has to.

- Kissing. “I’m sorry,” Tim mumbles, and Masky hisses, don’t. But Tim prevails in this moment, and you get your affection, though it does seem like he’s holding back—from smashing your head in.

- Marking. You want to kiss your precious darling, so be it, growls Masky’s voice in the back of his head. But we do it His way. Masky bites at your flesh mercilessly, causing you to bleed, but at least Tim gets to leave his mark on you.

- Creampie—the struggle between Masky and Tim leaves the latter no room, no time to react to his ejaculation. He comes inside of you, and as he groans, he releases his seed. But before he can pull out, Masky commands: Stay.

- We will mark and imbue this wench. This one belongs to Him.

- YOU CANNOT FIGHT HIM.

Brian “Hoodie” Thomas is attractive, there is no denying it. But if a person were to lay eyes on him, with his charismatic smile, the furthest thought from their mind would be his true demeanor around you in the bedroom.

BDSM, namely sadism, bondage, impact play, and power play.

He is sadistic, dishing pain out without a second thought, like a billionaire spending thousands without a second thought. You plead and beg for mercy, a reprieve from the pain on your ass, but he simply smirks and the sting of his spanks begin all over again.

Bondage. For if he is to do what he truly desires to you, you must not be able to resist. “My pretty pretty darling,” he hums in a singsong, “I won’t be done with you anytime soon.”

Impact play. His favorite is flogging, seeing tears run down your face, red marks the exact shape of his weapon appear on your thighs, your chest, your stomach, everywhere. Your tears are everywhere. And as he fingers you, pleasure and pain blur together.

Humiliation. He unbinds you abruptly, causing you to fall to the ground. “On your knees,” he commands, and you have no choice but to obey.

“Worship me,” he whispers to you, and you obey.

You obey.

You obey.

Tobias Erin “Toby” Rogers is relatively inexperienced, but his confidence surprises you every time. Your guard down, he pounces, engulfing you whole.

Consensual non-consent. “Say you don’t want this.” “What?” “Say you don’t want this,” he whispers back, more urgency in his voice. And so you comply.

Zero foreplay. He inserts himself, intruding upon the sanctity of your body, and as you howl in agony your hole wettens itself around him. He sighs in pleasure. Pleasure—it’s only for him.

Crying. Tears. Tears all over your face, snot running down your philtrum unattractively. It all goes to his cock, it all emboldens him. “Cry more,” he whispers, voice trembling in excitement, fingertips wiping away your tears, bringing them to his lips for a taste.

Fear. The fear in your eyes, so enticing, so easy to get lost in. Were your eyes always so fearful of him? Will you never see him the same way again? The thought excites him, his heart races, his thrusts growing more erratic.

Punishment. All of a sudden, he pulls out and comes onto the floor. He turns back to your confused face and orders with surprising presidency in his voice: “Lick it up.”

You stare at him in horror.

[nymph-ette111]

What if Jeff, EJ, Toby, Masky, Hoodie, and Ben (separately) found Y/N silently crying? Would they help or try to calm down Y/N?

That's it, sorry if I chose too many creepypastas ❤

I hope you have a great day/night!!

(I love your writing style aaaaah! Luv ya >< )

Sorry if I sounded cringe ;)

WARNINGS; JEFF BEING AN ASSHOLE LIKE USUAL/TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, MENTIONS OF A DECAPITATED BODY

AUTHOR'S NOTE; NO ONE HERE IS CRINGE!! and I love you too <3 was giggling and kicking my feet writing masky and hoodie's part LOL

TOBY;

-the first thought that comes to his mind is that somebody caused this.

-may be a bit rough when asking what's wrong, because like I mentioned before, he just jumps into the conclusion that it's someone else's fault.

-Toby is a little... impulsive when it comes to solving his problems, always going the aggressive route.

-basically what I'm trying to say is that he is willing to chop up someone's body if they did something bad enough to make you cry.

-he will pry the information out of you, whether you want to or not.

-he doesn't realize that this makes things worse for you :( let's be realistic, imagine crying to your boyfriend because someone bothered you just for him to leave and come back covered in blood holding the head from said person's decapitated body.

-he'll even try to hug you, not caring if he is covered head to toe in blood, not caring if the smell was overwhelming your senses. he'll get upset if you refuse his "affection" and "comfort". sometimes Toby's thinking is... hard to understand.

-99% chance you're going to throw up from the sight alone. what I'm trying to say here is Toby's attempt at making you feel better is nowhere near what it's supposed to be.

-but if that wasn't the case and your crying was because of something else like an insecurity, just the overall stress of your day, basically anything that doesn't involve another person he'd be less aggressive.

-wouldn't really know what to say so he'd just go for physical affection and hope that it works.

-now this part depends on you since not everyone likes physical touch when upset. if you don't mind it then he's going to hold you until you feel better. if you don't he'd respect your wishes but he won't leave, even if you ask him to.

-would kiss away your tears one hundred percent.

-i'd give him about... 7/10 less if he brings back a corpse with him but the physical affection is nice :)

JEFFREY:

-love how your relationship is hanging on by a thread.

-it's surviving off of hopes and prayers bro.

-Jeff believes that he should be the only one who can make you upset in any way shape or form. I'd say he doesn't take the idea of someone else making you feel bad very lightly.

-not even in a "oh, someone made my partner upset! not on my watch!" he's just offended because it feels like someone took his place or something.

-yeah did I mention he's toxic as fuck.

-i honestly don't know how he'd react... contrary to popular belief I don't think he'd go out of his way to kill somebody because they made his partner upset like Toby would. in Toby's case it's out of pure love obsession and the need to please you. in Jeff's case he'd probably kill for his own benefit which I mentioned before, someone taking his place.

-fuck it he'd probably kill the person just to torment you, he enjoys that shit.

-however if it's your own feelings regardless of what it is, he'd pretend to not care.

-i think I somewhat implied it in my "stretch marks" post that he doesn't know how to handle his partner's emotions. insecurities or not, big chance he won't do anything, probably throw an insult or two just to make you feel pathetic.

-damn I don't think any fluff post with Jeff would work.

-how can this motherfucker even be nice.

-and if you're asking, no he would never break up with you. you boost his ego a little too much and he doesn't want to lose that.

-he doesn't want to admit it but he's attached to you to a certain degree.

-i'd give it... why are you even reading this it's an obvious 0/10

EYELESS JACK;

-im torn between making EJ the feral demon he is or making him more... human.

-i think I lean towards the more human side when writing for Jack but that might change in the future. expect all of my headcanons to change since I'm still trying to figure this out. even for his personality.

-i should make a poll for that... ANYWAYS

-regardless of the reason, he'd react pretty much the same way.

-he's so sweet and comforting it's actually insane :(

-he's naturally awkward but the voice, the way he weighs and genuinely considers his words before speaking, trying to find the best way to make you feel better can make anyone instantly fold I'm TELLING YOU.

-bro sounds smart and is smart just the way he talk to you is enough to make you move on from whatever had happened.

-intelligent men are so

-head scratches after he's done giving you his advice and point of view of the situation.

-my husband<3

-tries to get you out of your room after that, or just include you in whatever so you wouldn't think about it again. like offering to invite you to the infirmary, there's always an extra seat for you there :)

-i might be biased but 9/10

BEN;

-i've said this before and I'll say it again, does not know how to comfort people. especially ones he cares about.

-he just... stands at the doorway (or floats, whatever you like)

-if it was another person he laugh at them right away, but considering you're his partner he'd fight the urge for your sake.

-actually he might laugh a bit but if he notices that you're clearly serious about what upset you he'd drop it.

-would download a virus on the other person's devices.

-he thinks it's funny.

-he genuinely tries to make you feel better tho, just doesn't know how :(

-if you're insecure about something then he'd react similarly to my "stretch marks" post and try to convince you that whatever it is about you, it's beautiful.

-might come off as corny tho.

-either way... I'd give him a 5/10 maybe even 6/10 if bullying kids on roblox cheers you up.

MASKY;

-regardless of the reason, he'll ask what's wrong but secretly hopes you don't want to talk about it.

-he is a teen tiny bit awkward.

-kind of like Toby, he goes for physical affection and hopes it's enough to take your mind off of it somehow.

-but the hugs this man gives...

-might as well stay there forever.

-just imagine him holding you tight to his chest, one hand rubbing your back while the other plays with your hair. a cig hanging loosely from between his lips UGH

-can you tell I'm listening to lana del rey while writing this.

-again he might not offer much in terms of... actually saying something to comfort you but his hugs are enough and if they aren't then girl what the fuck is wrong with you.

-i need him.

-i give 8/10

HOODIE;

-another one who relies on the physical affection only because he's a selective mute.

-unless you know sign language.

-unlike masky, instead of a hug you're sitting on this man's lap.

-his mask up to the bridge of his nose, scruff facial hair grown from years of not taking proper care of himself rubbing against your flush cheeks, strong arms holding you tightly against him.

-i genuinely cannot continue writing this so I'm ending it here because another word of describing this man will have me tweaking out 9/10

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Toby: Y/N fell asleep with their head in my lap and kissed my cheek when they woke up. Theyre so cute, I wish they liked me.

Tim: [Looks into the camera like he’s on The Office]

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Pastas finding out their s/o is pregnant? like jeff, ej, toby and whoever else pretty please 🥺🙏

Absolutely my love! Some of them are more family oriented than others!

CREEPS FINDING OUT THEIR S/O IS PREGNANT

JEFF THE KILLER:

Probably tells you to get an abortion...

If you don't do so then he won't talk to you for MONTHS. Like right up until the moment your kid is born he'll be absent

But as soon as he hears from another creep that you're finally going into labor, he's right by your side

100% cries when your kid is born

He was just nervous in the beginning! He doesn't know how to be a dad and he didn't reaaaally mean that you should get an abortion

EYELESS JACK:

He knew before you did

You know how dogs and cats start laying on your stomach? He'll start getting closer and more lovey

He didn't know exactly why he was acting this way he just knew something was different

When you told him he was ecstatic. Well for the first couple minutes...

Then he started into the whole "what if it's a monster like me?" talk

TIM/MASKY:

He's pretty torn...

Half of him is so fucking happy that he can have some sense of normalcy in his life. He's been wanting a white picket fence lifestyle since... Welll... Since forever.

But the other half... He's not as excited about it...

Firstly, how do we know he's going to be a good father with the amount of time he just suddenly loses or blacks out for? Or what about the operator? What if he's dragged away for whatever the mysterious entity wants?

You'll have to assure him lots but remind him that this is exactly what the both of you want

BRIAN/HOODIE:

Praying it's a little girl! We all know he'd be such an amazing girl dad. Don't get me started.

Either way he's so damn happy.

Doesn't give a shit about his time loss or the operator. His family will come first no matter what.

Starts setting things up for the baby almost immediately

Talks to your stomach allllll the time.

"TICCI" TOBY:

Nervous. So damn nervous.

He has so much family trauma that he's almost not up for it

But he loves you so he'll try his hardest to step up and be as good of a father as he can possibly be

Starts reading books and shit even though he can only sit long enough to read five pages at a time

Another one who needs constant reassurance that it's all going to work out