#creepypasta dark fic

[degenrcy]

roger's family -> ticci toby dark fic

warnings: omgggg dead dove do NOTTT eat this actually sick and twisted (incest, underage, rape, death, violence, EVERYTHING)

when lyra died, a part of your family died with her. no one was ever the same. no one recovered. all of you just got worse and worse.

you missed your big sister, your little brain could barely comprehend that she was never coming home from the hospital, or the box they sent her down in, or that she was in that little tiny box in the center of the fireplace with her pictures and other things of hers scattered around. you missed your mom and dad picking you up from school or driving you to the park or driving to get ice cream... driving around, sitting in the backseat watching the roads and trees and big huge buildings go by. no one wanted to drive you anywhere since lyra drove and died.

you missed toby the most. he was your big brother, but not older than your sister, so he used to actually like being around you. now he hated you. he hated himself. he hated your parents. everyone. he scared you now.

when your dad first caught him hitting you, he grabbed him by his shirt and threw him to the side. everyone started yelling, and sitting in the middle of it all was little you. dad yelled at toby for hurting you, mom yelled at dad for yelling at toby, toby yelled at dad for yelling at him, toby yelled at you for being a constant reminder, mom started crying, toby rolled up his sleeves and all you saw were red lines, mom started screaming and dad yelled some more... then everyone was quiet for the rest of the day. you sat alone in bed all day. you didn't know you were hurting your brother so much. maybe it was alright he got you back once in a while. bruises are nothing to bleeding. maybe you deserved it.

you did deserve it. it made you sad toby hurt himself, you should be doing it instead. that is what he told you after all, holding you down on the bed as he caressed your bare, smooth arm. you were untouched. toby hated that, he had to make sure you felt what he did. why did it have to be lyra?

"toby please!" you sobbed, pleading with your big brother. it hurt so much, you couldn't handle it like you said.

"s-shut the f-fuck up!" he spat, his fingers wrapping tighter around your much thinner wrists. even his tics were getting worse. toby just got worse and worse around you.

at night you imagined lyra comforting you again, doing your hair nicely and letting you use some of her lip gloss. she would drive you, and toby, out to get food or shopping. she'd let you guys get some free stuff from her job. she'd still be right next door to you, waking you up the next morning to get you ready for school. she'd tell toby to get out your room, to stop touching under your clothes and to stop leaving marks all over you. it hurt to press at them during recess, sitting against the wall of the school.

everyone played, and you could only imagine running away from home. never taking the bus back. lyra would never pick you up from school again.

during class you'd burst into tears all the time. you were a baby, crying for anyone to see you. to see past your dead sister, to see toby luring you into dad's shed to show you stuff he found. you start crying when he shows you the dead animals. "i-it's gonna be you n-n-next, y/n. if you tell a-anyone, you'll be just-"

he slammed the hatchet down on the poor little bunny. its feet stopped kicking, it stopped squirming. the head slid off the sharp end of the blade, leaving gross stringy muscles and dark blood across the wooden floor. "like that." toby threw the hatchet to the side, making you flinch. you fell to your knees, sniffling.

toby's eyes held no emotion as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his muddied/bloodied/ripped jeans, stepping closer to you.

your bed wetting was chalked up to... lyra's death. your lack of appetite, poor school attendance and participation, overall presence and consciousness... surely it was all about your dead sister. no one cared about you and it was all your fault. that's what toby said at least, and the last thing he said before he went off the rails and lashed out on the rest of the family. he went away for a little bit, and suddenly your skin was free of bruises and scratches, your parents saw you smiling.

and when toby came back, it was like your little life had been sucked out of you again. you were refusing showers, change of clothes, food, light, water, air, living.

you wished it was you instead of lyra. toby liked her more. he would have never done this to her.

"please, toby, i can't..." he was already tugging off your skirt as soon as your parents left you two upstairs. his cold hands ran up and down your bare legs and touched you between your thighs. he sniffed your hair, shakily breathing into your ear. he waited so long. pretended to be better for so long.

his fingers tasted like iron around your tongue. you two share the nail and skin biting habit. this was all your fault.

years after she died, years after you died alongside her, residing in toby's relentless grasp of your bones and every fiber of your being, he finally snapped on all of you. he threatened to kill dad, mom stayed back looking in horror. you sat in the middle. mom looked at you for once. she ran to the bathroom and threw up, then forced your dad to throw toby out. never let him come back. he's sick, perverted, psycho.

that night your curtains were on fire. mom and dad were no where to be found. 3 men dragged you out of your room and into the shed, ripping you apart and burning you too from the inside. you knew one was toby. you could tell by the way he slammed your head into the blood soaked wooden floor. it was sticky and crawling with maggots. splinters needled into your knees, small body barely able to hold yourself up as your brother showed no mercy. he grunted into your ear saying dirty words, the other two masked men watching silently, coldly.

you screamed and retched, begging falling on deaf, disinterested ears. you watched your house engulf in flames, reflecting in your glazed over eyes.

lyra would kill toby for what he's done in the name of grief. this was just how he was. what he became. he finally found a good enough excuse. you were just a little girl. the baby of the family. you had no time to dream about your sisters return, only to fear your brother's. he shackled you up in the shed, starving you for days before coming back for you again. he poked your spine and turned you over to face him. his hatchet, rusted over and caked in dirt and blood, in his gloved hands.

soon enough you'd melt between the floor boards, seep into the earth below you. you'd drip down every layer of the earth, and you'd meet your big sister at the core. you'd shoot back into the sky with enough force to burn toby's skin off and enough to break all his bones and rip out his organs through the gaps of his evil soul. you'd be a butterfly, the sky, a bunny, headless in a filthy, reeking shed. over and over again for eternity. toby would never suffer, he'd kill anyone before they get the chance. he'd have friends that help him get away with it. he'll get away with much worse after doing this, killing his own sister.

tears poured over the bridge of your nose as you braced for impact, heaving into your arms. a faux sense of protection. even if your weak arms covered your neck, he'd have more fun cutting right through them anyways. he told you he always hated you. that he was just saving you from a lifetime of pain anyways. all with a smile on his face, hole in his cheek. not that you were listening. there was a knock on the door, then a slam to the floor. then another. and another, another, until your bones were chipping away and your brains were splattering on his boots and the walls and spreading your pollen all over the field and growing white flowers through the cracks in the floor. lyra pushes your hair out of your face, a sad look in her eyes.

she asks you if toby hurt your feelings, and you can only close your eyes and melt into her touch. clouds overtake you, and she's carrying you to your bed after falling asleep on the couch. she lays you in a dirt pile and tucks you in. toby throws his head back as he relieves himself over you one last time- not actually the last, he'll be back to visit your grave. he'll leave some flowers in your mouth and tummy and laugh himself to death. not before wilting everyone around him, cutting every limb off until his axe splits, desire insatiate until everyone feels what he feels.

you lay with hands over your chest in a dress your family bought you for your birthday. you tell lyra to stay a bit longer, to not go out driving in this weather. you are grown up and tell her everything before it happens. toby lunges at you with a knife and kills you anyways. in every way, every universe, he stops you from ever telling.

[vonloup]

Okay I've added my fic to Quotev and I now have a new fic out!

It's called "In Sickness and in Health" and it's an eyeless jack x male reader. I don't have any chapters out yet but here's the link to them. Both on Wattpad and Quotev.

https://www.quotev.com/story/16783249/In-Sickness-and-in-Health-eyeless-jack-x-m-Reader/1

https://www.wattpad.com/story/380521796?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=lythewerewolf

I promise I'll have a chapter out soon but I am working on a chapter 2 for my Ticci toby fic and it will be out shortly!

[forsakenmb]

The beds we make

Pairings - Tobias E. Rogers x Reader

Word Count - 5.2K

Warnings - stalker! Toby, non-con/dub-con, murder, mentions of death, violence, choking, implied-somnophilia, knife play, humiliation, bondage(?).

Darkness enshrouded every corner of your mind, like an endless void sucking you into its depths: as it did every night for the last six months. A constant and overwhelming sense that someone is watching your every move at all time, the itch in the back of your mind consuming you in your most vulnerable state.

Suddenly, a loud pounding rapped on the wood of your bedroom door, waking you from your restless sleep. Your heart stopped in your chest for a moment, another wave of anxiety rushing through your body, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Then, a familiar voice called out to you from the other side of it. “Are you still sleeping?” Tara said, knocking on the door again.

“I'm awake” you responded, your voice scratchy and uneven as you slowly disentangled yourself out of the blankets. Begrudgingly, you trudged to the door, unlocked, and flung it open to reveal Tara Allen, your roommate and close friend since your freshman year in college.

Tara is undeniably beautiful, her long dark hair and dark eyes matching the tan complexion of her skin perfectly. She's always been quite taller than you, her slender figure standing at the door looking at you as if you were from another dimension.

“You look like shit,” she laughs, examining the dark circles under your eyes, the restless look on your face.

“Haha” you laugh sarcastically, walking to your bed and plowing down onto the sheets, “Very funny” you said, shoving your face into the plush comforter that rested on top.

“We have to get going,” Tara said, tugging on your oversized sleep shirt. “Traffic is gonna be awful,” she groaned.

Looking up through your heavy eyes, you saw that the sun was just barely peeking over the eastern horizon, darkness still settled over the skies. “It's like 5:00 am,” you said.

“Exactly. It's like 13 hours away” She said, almost enamored. turning around and leaving the room.

Tara's parents had given her the keys to a small getaway cabin they owned so you two could have a ‘girls trip’ after midterms. With school and the constant feeling of being watched, getting away was what you needed. The cabin was located in the densely wooded mountains far from the city and covered in a thick layer of snow.

Flipping onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling, the room still covered in a sheen of blackness. Your anxiety was beginning to spike up again, washing over you like ice water. You sat up, looking out your window at the streets below, ‘No one can see you’ the words rang through your head like a church bell, the small peace rushing the ever-growing anxiety out of your mind for now. A groan left your lips when you stood up and made your way over to your dresser.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Wake up,” Tara said, one hand still on the steering wheel, the other reaching over and nudging your shoulder. “We're here”

A long yawn slipped from your lips, your brain slowly coming to consciousness. Looking out of the window, you noticed that the car had come to a complete stop in a parking lot.

The area surrounding it was densely forested. Pines, spruces, and hemlock trees covered the landscape, making it seem like you were hundreds of miles away from another living person. The different kinds arose above the ground, standing tall in thick columns.

A blanket of fluffy snow covered the ground and trees alike, more flurrying down from the clouds in a silent rain.

A little off to the side, you could see a pathway ascending through the trees and up the mountain, one that people used to hunt and trail along. The compact dirty frozen under the thick layer of frosty powder.

“It's a short hike from here” Tara said, slipping the key from the ignition and shoving it into the pocket of her coat.

Nodding in response, you zipped up your heavy jacket and tightened the laces on your shoes. The air was cold and frigid, like thousands of tiny needles puncturing your lungs as you stepped out of the vehicle.

“We're gonna have to drive to the nearest town for supplies” Tara explained, opening the backdoor and sliding her backpack out and onto her shoulders. “But we should be okay for tonight”

The weight of your bag was settled on one shoulder, the other hand carrying a small ice chest. The only sounds through the trek to the cabin was the ‘crunch, crunch, crunch’ of the snow beneath your feet, the rustling of branches in the harsh winds, along with the chatter of wildlife a whisper through the dense bushels of evergreen shrubs, winterberry, and hostas that littered the path, the gnarled underbrush covered in a pristine layer of sparkling white crystals snagging against the fabric of your sweatpants.

“Just up over this bend” she said, treading carefully over a patch of ice. The trail was becoming narrow, harder to see the longer you walked on. Approaching the bend, you saw a rustic cabin sitting on top of the hill, a small rickety porch sitting in the front, a large bay window next to the door. Dying vines had begun to reclaim parts of the exterior, crawling up the bricks of the fireplace only to die.

Snow began falling harder, blizzarding around you in millions of little clusters. The cold started nipping at your fingertips, turning them a bright red. “Let's get inside” you said, a shiver running down your spine.

The house looked uninhabited, an untouched layer of snow covering the porch. The screen screen door looked worn down, the mesh fabric peeling away from it and withering up. The wooden front door opened with a loud squeak of the hinges.

Inside of the cabin was almost completely barren, next to the door was a small dust ridden table. Walking down a short corridor to the living room, the only light coming from the windows lining the walls. At the end of the hall was a pair of double doors, leading out onto the snow doused back deck and into the yard, a winter wonderland.

The interior of the room only held a love-seat with a white sheet draped over the top of it and another end-table. Feeling along the wall for the lightswitch, nothing happened when you flicked it on.

Setting the ice chest down, you called out, “Powers out,” while walking further into the room.

“I probably have to reset the box,” Tara said, now walking into the living room. She walked to the fireplace next to which a silver box that hung on the wall, opening the box, she began flipping the circuit breakers. After a couple of silent moments, a low humming coursed through the small space as the light flickered on.

“The heat should kick in soon,” she explained, walking to a connected doorway. “Kitchen is in here” flicking on another light, revealing a small room. An electric countertop stove and a small mini fridge that sat underneath the counter on the wall opposite the threshold to the left was a countertop and a sink to the right, a small dining table.

“There's only one bed, but we can share it,” she said, walking back out into the hallway and to a closed room. Pushing the door open showed it was a bedroom.

A full-bed sat against the back wall, another white cloth decorated the mattress, a nightstand on each side, along with two massive windows and a dresser against the same wall. Two doors sat on the opposite sides of the room. “Closet and bathroom” was all she muttered before ripping the sheet off of the bed, throwing her bag down along with herself onto the mattress. The bed was adorned with pillows and a thick comforter.

Setting your bag down on the floor, you strolled back out of the room and to the backdoor. Stepping outside into the winter-woodlands, the sun was beginning to set, casting an orange and pink glow over the snow.

The wind was picking up, trees being jostled by the strong gusts hitting them. The chatter of animals was now gone, replaced by an eerie silence. Then, somewhere off in the distance, you heard the unmistakable ‘CRACK’ of a branch breaking underneath the weight of something, someone.

Your heart stopped, dropping somewhere in your stomach. ‘There's no one around for at least two miles’ the voice in your head refuted. Then, somewhere out of the corner of your eye, you saw a reflective orange glint, like eyes staring at you. Your body caught up with your mind, and you sprinted back into the house, slamming the door shut behind you.

Tara walked out of the bedroom, and a wary look covered her face. “What's wrong?” she questioned, walking closer to you.

“E-Eyes,” you panted, your breathing erratic and your heart beating violently in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you looked at Tara and said, “I saw a pair of eyes.” Tears began to bubble at your lash-line.

“It's probably an animal. We are in the middle of the forest” she said in a passive-aggressive tone, her eyes involuntarily rolling.

‘She's right’ the rational part of your brain thought. Taking long, deep breaths in and out, you could only nod and walk back into the bedroom, sitting down on the plush mattress.

A strong current of warm air began flowing through the rooms, heating up the chilly cabin. “Heats finally on,” Tara said, the edge in her tone letting on to her frustration.

Again, you could only nod, anxiety flowing through your veins, increasing your heart rate further. You know what you saw, but again the forest is full of different kinds of wildlife. “We should unpack” you stuttered out.

This time, Tara nodded and walked out into the hall. You stood up, picking your bag up from the ground and setting it on the bed.

The majority of the bag was just clothes and other miscellaneous items like an MP3 player and earbuds, a thermostat bottle, and a zip knife. The handle is a polished wood with gold colored stainless-steel trimming, the end of the knife curved upwards and into a hook. The sharp blade sheath in a washcloth, sealed with a rubber band. You bought it when eyes began watching your every movement.

You slipped the knife into the hoodie you sported and began putting away your belongings. Looking up, you saw the sun had receded; another bout of darkness consuming the world around you, threatening to eat you whole as well. The snow was falling harder than before, your visibility almost completely impaired. Looking out into the abis, your heart picked up, your pulse starting to quicken as your eyes adjusted to the dark, and what looked like the silhouette of a person became clearer and clearer. Coming closer and closer.

A gasp wretched itself from your throat, your feet scrambling to get away but tripping over each other instead causing you to crash to the floor.

Hastily getting up, you dash out of the room and across the hall to the living space, a hot inferno blazing in the fireplace, Tara cooking something in the kitchen, blissfully ignorant.

Turning around when you clamored into the room, she saw you hunched over, hands steadying themselves on your knees.

“Tara, there is someone out there!” You cried, tears running down your face.

Again, irritation was present on her features. A look of annoyance. “No one is out there” she blew off, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I'm telling you, there is” you stammered, “I-I saw it” More tears bled down your face, your entire body trembling.

“There isn't! I have put up with this for six months” she said, her voice rising alongside her anger, “I'm asking you for a weekend of peace” an ugly sneer spread across her face.

Stomping out of the kitchen and passing by you to the bedroom, Tara shoved her shoes on. “Since you insist” she started walking down the hall, “I'll show you”

Following closely behind her, you hadn't realized how angry she'd been with you. Rounding the corner, she threw open the door and trudged out into the snow and halfway down the slope of the trail, the snow falling heavier. Then, at the top of her lungs, Tara bellowed, “There is no one out here!” anger bleeding through her shriek.

You only went out as far as the last step of the porch, your shoes still on from your last excursions outside. “Tara, come back in!” You called back, voice trembling in uneasiness.

You couldn't see her, the snow falling too heavily from above, the wind hollering through the night, branched clashing together in a ferocious battle, and again she yelled out, “ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NO-” the sentence being cut off with a sickening ‘thud’, slicing through the air like a freshly sharpened knife. Nothing but the sound but rushing wind and a distinct ‘POP’ could be heard.

Your heart skipped a beat, catching somewhere in your throat. “Tara?” You croaked out, your tongue like a cement brick in your mouth. Stepping slowly off of the porch, you moved towards the apex of the hill to get a better view.

The thick clouds parted enough for a sliver of moonlight to peek through and let you take in the scene before you: Tara's unconscious- no, lifeless body laid face down on the frigid ground, the blade of an axe protruding out of her skull, her beautiful brown hair now black at the roots with blood as it seeped out around the weapon, her perfect tawny beige skin stained with red, painting the snow beneath her with blood. A person stood above her, a man.

Most of his face was hidden beneath a hood, but his lanky build was visible; the grayish-brown hoodie he wore was stained with blood, his jeans as well.

He stepped on her body, his boot-clad foot pushing it further in the snow then gripping the handle of the axe and ripping it from her head; the snow now staining crimson, the crevasse oozing more blood. The man's head slowly rose and through the light peering down from above, you saw a familiar reflective orange glint, and you knew he was staring directly into your fear-stricken face.

Tears crowded in your eyes, your breathing becoming heavy and erratic as you locked into a silent staring contest with the man who just murdered your best friend. The hand holding his weapon jolted in a fast motion, but did not come flying towards you like you had anticipated: still that knocked you out of your initial shock and you began barreling towards the treeline and into the snow-covered woodlands.

The forest was dark, a dense canopy of trees preventing any light from shining down, the thick underbrush cut at your ankles, low-hanging branches catching on your hoodie as you careened through the thickets of trees. Then you heard the thundering sound of heavy footsteps in pursuit, and you forced your legs to go faster to take you further away from this madman.

Struggling to breathe properly, you still kept running since you knew the moment you slowed down, he would be on you like a wolf and its prey. Suddenly the sound of whirling air flying by your head was audible before an axe was embedded in the trunk of a tree, pieces of bark and wood spraying out around it.

‘Faster! Faster’ your mind argued with exhaustion, as your legs struggled to flee. You'd never had to run for your life, not until now. A heavy cloud of fog began to roll in as you ran deeper into the woods, your vision even more impaired than before.

Zig-zagging through trees you soon realized you no longer heard his heavy footsteps behind you, but still you kept going further. The fog was getting too thick to see though turning everything around you into a misty haze, then the exposed roots of a tree caught your foot causing you to collide with the snowy forest floor and before you could think your body began rolling down a steep embankment you hadn't known was there.

Clawing at the solid earth to stop your fall was futile as the semi-frozen snow made getting an anchor difficult. Tumbling down the hill your speed only kept increasing, the steady decline seemingly going on to no end until suddenly your body stuck the trunk of a tree, cracking the side of your head against it; consciousness began to flee from you, the world around you being reduced to darkness but not before you felt the leering presence of someone standing over you.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The cold winds nip against your skin, a chill runs down your spine while you're rocked further into oblivion, cuddling into the warmth of the person carrying you.

‘Wait-’ you thought, eyes shooting open, and shoving at the chest of the man holding you before impinging with the snowy ground.

Scrambling to find your footing, a hand reached out and entangling itself in your hair while yanking back. A sob escaped your mouth, a wordless plea to let you go. Gripping at his wrists, you attempted to pull his hands away from you, but that only proved to anger him more: his digits curled further into your hair, pulling your head back as far as it would go.

“Y-You done?” His voice cut through the air like an axe, the sound sending shivers up your spine and more tears to your eyes.

Looking up at him, you saw an upside-down version of the man behind you; his hood was up still, messy chestnut hair spilled out from the top, his orange-yellowish goggles now hung around his neck, and dark soulless eyes stared back at you, a mouthguard hung from ear to ear, concealing the lower half of his face.

Reaching into the pocket of your hoodie, your fingers went and grabbed for the knife only to find it missing.

“Looking for this?” he jeered, pulling out your weapon, the cool metal of the blade shining in the moonlight.

“Let me go! ” You cried out, your fear now turning to rage at his words. ‘You done?’ as if he hadn't chased you through the woods, as if he isn't trying to kill you. “You're fucking pathetic” you sneered, more tears welling up in your eyes.

“I-I'm p-p-pathetic?” he chuckled, his voice dropping an octave, the grip he had on your hair tightened. “Says t-the o-one on her knees” then he laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“You're disgusting” you grimaced, trying to pull away once again only to receive an emphatic tug, dragging you backwards onto the ground forcing another cry from you.

His hand left your hair, footsteps circling until he stood in front of you; crouching down so you were eye-to-eye, he reached out and gripped your chin and tilted it farther back. “You th-think I'm disgusting? That ‘fr-friend’ of yours is the the reason you're in t-this.” he growled, “But, I'll f-fucking show you dis-disgusting” he jeered, a deranged look in his eyes.

Uneasiness swirled in the pit of your stomach at the news, the surprise shown on your face.

His hand renewed its grip in your hair, aggressively pulling you up from the forest floor. “How about a game, hm” he said, a giddiness in his voice. “You tr-try and get ba-back to the cabin, if I don't c-catch you, I'll leave.”

“And if you do?” you questioned, your fear bleeding through into your voice.

“Well, I gu-guess you'll just ha-have to find out,” he said, the giddiness in his tone now replaced with something much darker, something much more sinister.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, your breathing heavy and erratic. You didn't need to find out, you already knew what he'd do: he'd kill you.

“I don't wanna play your fucked up game” you cried, knees threatening to give out underneath you. “You're gonna kill me anyways” now you were sobbing, tears streaming down your face, the cold winds chilling you further.

“Hey..” he cooed, his voice softening as if to comfort you. “I'm not go-gonna kill you” he said, his grip on your hair loosening “Not yet at l-least” then another sick bout of deep laughter filled your ears.

This time you couldn't stop yourself from collapsing to the ground, and sobbing into your hands. “I'm not playing this game, you fucking psycho!” you screamed, your rage and fear mixing together into a cesspool of emotions.

A sigh left him, almost as if he was disappointed. “F-Fine” he said, before the end of a blunt object struck you in the head and a familiar void spread around you.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Cold calloused hands ran up your thighs, giving them a rough squeeze, then to your hips and doing the same. Your mind began waking up, eyes slowly drifting open only to see him in between your now bare legs, hands traveling farther up to the waistband of your panties before receding and repeating the action. 

His mouthguard was now gone, his eyes staring into yours. That's when you saw his full face; his skin a pale gray, snake bites adorning his bottom lip, and on the side of his face a large gash, one so deep you could see his porcelain white teeth from where you laid.

Your hands shot out, only to be stopped by a thick rope binding them to a headboard. “Y-You're finally aw-awake,” His grip on your thighs tightened, “Thought I'd have to fuck your unconscious body” he chortled, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Chills ran up your spine leaving goosebumps in its wake, another bout of sickness swirling in your stomach. Your legs moved of their own accord, kicking and thrashing about, hitting him on several occurrences until his hands gripped the back of your knees and pushed your thighs up to your chest, and held them there.

“What are you doing!” panic was laced in your tone, legs trying helplessly to get free.

“C’mon, I t-thought you were sm-smarter than that,” he sneered, settling one of his forearms across the backs of your knees, his now free hand sliding down the back of your thigh before traveling to your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze through the fabric of your panties.

Your leg shot out, connecting with his stomach causing him to fall back: in return a sharp slap was delivered to your face, a fiery inferno spreading across your cheek. Then he gripped your hips, his blunt fingers digging into the soft skin and flipped you onto your stomach, the rope cutting into your wrists and the headboard creaking lazily from the force.

His breath fanned against the shell of your ear, hips digging into your behind, pressing the bulge forming in his jeans into you. “I'm go-gonna fuck you s-so good, maybe you'll forget th-that your friend is the one w-who sold you like some wh-whore” he said through gritted teeth.

Tugging on your restraints to get free was proving unsuccessful, his hand slid down to your front, fingertips gliding up your abdomen and to the hem of your bra, playfully snapping the band. Your heart sped up, and you tried crawling farther up the bed only to be pulled back down by your hips.

“W-Wait” you gasped, squirming in his hold. “I-I don't know your name” it came out as a whisper, barely audible. Truly you knew it was a dumb question, but you just need him to slow down so you could think of a way out of this situation, to no avail.

A sudden burst of laughter filled the empty space around you, his manic cackles filling your ears. His breath fanned across your neck, “Toby” he said, his fingers back at your bra: they grabbed at the waistband and pulled roughly, breaking the clasp that held it together, the coolness of something sharp started tracing over your bare back.

‘A knife’ you thought. ‘My knife’ Now you were a crying, blubbering mess; weeps and wails escaping you as the weapon dragged across your back, to the strap of your bra and slicing through it, then repeating the action to the other strap. Your bra fell onto the bed beneath you, freeing your breasts.

The hand holding the knife discarded it, slithering its way across your stomach and up to your chest, grabbing and groping at the fat of your breast, pinching and twisting your nipple. A groan slipped from him, his hips rocking into your rear at an erratic pace.

His hand moved away from your chest, as did the hand on your hip. “S-So pretty, almost a sh-shame I'm gonna have to kill y-you” his words came out like venom, caused more tears to bubble up, and stream down your face.

“Please- I” was all you could manage, cries and wails racking through your body, you shook with fear, heart stammering against your ribcage.

“Please what, hm?” Toby purred, hands now dancing across the band of your underwear, fingertips just barely slipping in before retreating.

“I don't wanna die” you sobbed, head hanging low between your shoulders. You couldn't control your emotions any longer, your head was spinning and you thought you might pass out.

He cooed at you, a hand coming up and stroking your hair. “It's okay,” he whispered, “If you do good, we'll see what we can do” he began kissing and nipping at your jaw before murmuring, “How's that sound?”

As much as you hated him, your will to live took over and you weakly nodded. He continued kissing and sucking on your shoulder, his other hand slipping under the elastic band of your panties. He slid a finger through your folds, another deep groan was heard behind you. “Fuck, you're wet” he whispered against your throat.

His digits circled around your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves underneath the pads of his fingers, then sliding his lanky fingers through your wet heat and before long sinking into your slick cunt. Whimpers and uncomfortable whines left you as his cold fingers curled inside of you, before slowly pulling out and sliding back in, the palm of his hand teasing at your clit.

More tears crowded your vision as he drove his fingers in and out of you, “W-wait” you cried, pulling at the rope binding your wrists. The disgust in your stomach worsened as your walls squeezed around his fingers, the unwanted pleasure lighting your nerves on fire.

His hands retreated, the sound of rustling clothes filled the room. “You're doing so good, almost good enough to live” he said coolly, almost as if he wasn't threatening your life.

His weight settled back behind you, his fingers gripping the elastic band of your underwear, yanking them down to where your knees were planted against the bed. One of his hands gripped your hips, the other pumping his thick , veiny cock, then lining it up with your entrance. Pressing into you, the head of his cock slipped in your cunt, a dull-throbbing spread through your low body.

“Stop!” you sobbed, tugging at your wrists even as the rope began cutting into your flesh. You squirmed in his grasp, your hips trying desperately to pull away from him.

His hips slammed forward, pushing his cock further into you. “No” he said through gritted teeth, forcing himself the last couple of inches into you. “Y-You made your b-bed, now l-lay in it .”

Toby pulled out of you until just his tip remained inside, before ramming back into you. “Fuck, you're tight” he groaned.

It was like you were being split open, his cock sinking further into you with every thrust. Pain shot through your legs and up your spine, and sob tore from your sore throat. “Stop!-” you yelled, thighs shaking from his harsh abuse.

His hands disappeared from you, hips stilling as he grabbed at your hair and yanked back. “W-What the fuck d-did I just say” he snarled, his other hand coming up to your neck, the knife in it once again. “Now shut up, or I'll slit your fucking throat”

The hand knotted in your hair left, again gripping your hip and slamming back into you harder than before, the sharp blade still pressing harshly against your throat.

The pain began dwindling, pleasure blooming in its wake and twisting in the deep empty pit of your stomach attempting to consume you whole. A pathetic whimper escaped your throat, leaking into the air along with the lewd sounds of skin against skin.

The blade was withdrawn from the column of your neck, while he slowly pulled out of you, the hand brandishing the knife now clutched your hip along with the other and flipping you onto your back. “If-f I didn't know a-any better, I'd say y-you're enjoying t-this” he jeered, his lips curling upwards into a malicious grin while sliding your underwear the rest of the way off your body.

More tears slid down your flushed face, “No!,” you sobbed: shaking your head and tugging at your restraints with more fury than before, your hysteria creeping back in.

One of the hands on your hips snaked down to your cunt, rubbing lazy patterns on your clit. Electricity shot through your core and limbs, euphoria spreading throughout your body like a numbing static.

Then his cock tapped against your entrance, the head slipped back inside of you: a moan slipping free from your lips. His hips drove forwards, his cock stretching you out all over again before he pulled back and brutally slammed back in. More whimpers and moans spilled from your mouth like a degrading symphony.

He used your body like a toy, pulling you onto his length, then sliding you off until your legs were shaking and you were sobbing for him to stop.

A cold hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your airways. “S-Shut up, and take it” he groaned, hammering himself harder into you. Your walls squeezed around his heavy cock, the head hitting against your spongy g-spot with every thrust.

Your stomach twisted with guilt and pleasure, guilty for feeling pleasure from this psycho, and for letting Tara die.

A knot in your stomach tightened every time Toby thrusted inside of you, incoherent whimpered and pleas spewed from your mouth as your orgasm raked through your body, eyes screwed shut and legs trembling around his waist. Toby's cock throbbed in your abused overstimulated pussy, hips driving himself into you roughly, then a warm sensation flooded through your walls along with the sounds of groans from the man above you.

His vicious thrusts slowed to lazily grinding into you, his heavy panting mixing with yours was the only thing heard in the small room, while his length stayed snug inside of you.

“I think” his voice was low as he spoke, his tone dark and malevolent. “I'm gonna have to keep you” and a low cackle was the last thing you hear before the end of something struck you in the head, and the world around you faded.

[ang3lfluids]

𝗔𝗟𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗦 𝗧𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗔𝗟𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗦 𝗦𝗟𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗬

𝗖𝗪: abuse (hinted?), slapping, hints of DDLG, Tim calls reader a “r*pe slut”, size difference, mild pain play, Jealous Tim

𝗘𝘃𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: first time I’ve ever written for Tim and this was a drag I had sitting around since summer. So it’s not great as I was lowkey high while I was finishing this up :(

When Tim had caught wind you had ended up in the infirmary due to a sparing session with Toby, he was quick to your aid. But had stopped dead in his tracks when he heard your melodic voice drifting through the cracked door. His chest swirled with anger as he peered in, his face contorting to a grimace underneath his mask.

EJ remained at your feet quietly wrapping your bloody knee with gauze, his gloved hands tickling the back of your knee. Which was what seemed to be drawing out the soft laughs from your busted lip.

He didn’t seem to pay this much mind as he shifted your leg in his larger hands carefully smoothing the gauze tape over the white bandages. Yet his hands lingered on your toned leg, mask fixated on the semi-bloody bandages. And when your leg jerked it brought the cannibal back to earth.

“All set…” he mumbled out as he stood pulling off the gloves, and your eyes followed his movement. “Am I interrupting?” Your boyfriends raspy voice echoed through the quiet room, dragging your attention from EJ. You bowed your head and stared at your knee as Tim glared at you from under his mask.

“They should be all fine. Keep them off that leg for a few days. Nothing super taxing.” EJ stated as he wrote down something on his clipboard. Tim made a noise of acknowledgment before motioning for you to get up. You used his shoulder as a crutch as he turned to EJ.

“Thanks.” EJ waved a dismissive hand and began to clean up as your boyfriend helped you wobble out of the infirmary. The air was thick with tension as he walked with you, you opened your mouth to ask what the matter was but a rough pinch to your side answered the question that didn’t even get a chance to be asked.

The room was thick with uncomfortable energy as you stepped into it. Tim shut the door with a soft click and turned to look at you. You could hear him move about, and the soft noise of his mask scraping against the dresser filled the room. Your body shook and your teeth chattered in your mouth as anxiety pooled in your stomach. Slowly his hands rested on your hips pulling you into him. His chin resting on your shoulder.

“Tim, I-“ “shut up.” He silenced you swiftly and dug his thick fingertips into your side. You squeezed your eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. “Lil fuckin tramp… you liked the way he was lookin’ at you?” He asked with a deep growl. His nose pressed to the flesh of your throat. Your body tensed as you shook your head slowly. Tim laughed against your skin and squeezed you against him until your ribs protested.

“T-Tim I can’t-“ “what did I tell ya?” He hissed as he spun you around pushing you into the bed. The force from his shove was enough to knock some wind from your lungs. The killer hovered over you glaring down at your shaking frame.

His scarred lips turned upwards in a smirk, eyes filled with animalistic blood lust. “You’re a little slut. What you want your cunt stuffed with another man’s cock, hm?” he wrapped a thick hand around your throat and squeezed causing you to go cross eyed.

Your smaller fingers scratching at his leaving small red scratches in his wake. “Ohh fuck ya, look at you. Getting off to me chokin’ ya?” You squirmed beneath him and tried to suck in a gasp of air. He released his grip and watched as you came back to earth.

Your chest heaved as you panted deeply. “You gonna be a good little bitch for me?” His thumb traced your busted lip and you nodded slowly. Your bruised lips wrapping around his thumb, the killer groaned and chuckled deep within his chest.

“Good little doll” He was on you within a second. His lips latching to the flesh of your neck, teeth sinking into the flushed skin of your throat. “Gonna remind you, who you fuckin belong to.” Tim spat before cracking you across the face with an open palm. You whined out eyes fluttering as your ears began to ring.

You weakly pushed against his shoulders earning a chuckle from your lover. He cooed and gripped your hair pushing your head into the bed. His jean clothed bulge grinding down into your aching pussy, earning a low whine.

“Stay fuckin’ still.” He hissed his rough hands tearing your top apart at the buttons. Your chest heaved and a whimpered tainted your lips. Tim smirked and pushed your bra over your chest revealing your perky nipples.

His rough thumbs pinched your buds and he rolled them between his thick fingers. Your head swam as you helplessly ground your battered hips against his bulge. The rough texture of the jeans creating a dizzying friction.

“Look at ya’ haven’t even touched you, and your cunts soaked..” He chastised as he gripped your chin with his larger hand. You pathetically squirm and raise your quivering hips up.

Tim teased the tips of his calloused fingers against your panties. Watching you with a sleazy smirk as you thrashed against him. His cock straining against his boxers, the killer groaned deep as you mewled and shook for his affection.

Tim loved that about you. So desperate to please. So eager to feel good. His face soured as he recounted that meeting with EJ. The taller man slotted himself between your thighs, your cunt dragging against his bulge. He eyed you. Your furrowed brows, and sweat slick skin making a hunger flare. His larger hand ducked down and cupped your injured knee.

Your breath caught in your lungs as a sharp pain erupted, your spine bent and you cried out for him to stop. Although you were quickly ignored as he freed his cock from the confines of his jeans.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re gonna take it for me aren’t ya baby?” He urged as he flipped you onto your belly, using his weight to pin your body down. You dizzily nodded and allowed him to tug your panties down. He eased your pained leg up opening your wet, glistening entrance up to him.

“Tight lil’ thing..” he hissed as he sunk into your heat. Your mouth forming an “O” shape as he bottomed out in your pulsating sex. He didn’t wait. He didn’t need to. Your cunt slick and inviting, sucked him back in with ease.

Your eyes rolled back as he began to fuck into you, the bed protesting from the harsh weight and shaking it was receiving. Your body rocked and the air was expelled from your lungs as your lover fucked into your spent cunt.

His fat meaty cock bullying your slick pussy, the only sounds being his grunts and the sound of the skin meeting skin. Tim wrapped a thick arm around your throat squeezing you tight as he abused your sweet cunt.

Your eyes rolled back as your walls tightened, your first orgasm washing over you eliciting a loud cry of pleasure to strangle itself from your maw. But that didn’t detour your boyfriend from his onslaught.

He pulled his body up bracing himself by pressing your body against the bed and using you like a flesh light. The slick sound of your juices combining made your head spin.

“F-fuck… doll.. that’s it. Milk my cock, lil r-rape slut…” You keened at his words, sex gushing around his thick dick. Your brain felt heavy as he pushed your head into the sheets.

“You ever.. fuck.. try that ah~ shit again I’ll fucking gut you, little girl.”

[miharuki]

At the beginning of the year, I managed to log into my account, so I'm already starting, here's a plan so you can see what I'm currently writing: (credits to someone whose name I forgot Sorry:()

[death-himself]

Masochism and Cannibalism

I've had this idea in my head for ages but I don't have any OCs that fit it, so I decided fuck it and wrote my first ever x reader fic

Summary: You are a proxy in Slenderman's forest, and want to help out your friend Jack a bit by having him eat you. In the process, Jack finds out you're a huge masochist. (gender-neutral proxy!masochist!reader) Relationship between Jack and reader is up for interpretation, could be friends-with-benefits, could be romantic, could be platonic idk

Content Warnings: masochism, cannibalism, graphic depiction of violence/gore, implication of religious trauma at the very beginning, vaguely NSFW? it doesn't feel sexual to me but it also kinda is but not really

Word Count: 1,760

You knew that Jack hated killing people. He hated what he had been forced to become. One night you had forgotten your jacket in his cabin, and had crept back in to grab it, only to find him kneeling by his bed, praying in a rapid whisper to a god he didn’t even believe in, the knuckles of his hands pressed into his forehead.

From that point on you had become the only one in the Slenderman’s forest to know of his turmoil. While you certainly weren’t one for empathy, considering the requirements of your job, you had always felt for Jack. The closer you got to him, the more you longed to take away his pain.

And then you came up with the perfect plan.

You knocked on the door of Jack’s cabin, hearing his quiet footsteps approach, pause on the other side, then open the door.

“Hello Y/N. Do you need something?” Jack spoke, his voice as steady as ever. You nodded, letting yourself in and sitting at his dining table.

“I’d like to make...an arrangement with you.” Jack’s head tilted to the side slightly; with his mask on it was the only sign of his confusion.

“What kind of arrangement?” He spoke slowly, giving you plenty of time to plan out your next words carefully.

“Well, I’m a proxy. I can’t die, and any injuries I get will heal in a couple hours, right?” Jack nodded, having fully studied every bit of proxy biology since entering the forest. “So...thoughts on eating me?”

“No.” He answered instantly, turning his back to you and stepping into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“What’s the harm in it?”

“There is quite literally nothing but harm in it, Y/N. I’m not eating you.”

“I’m giving you full consent and everything!”

Jack poured two cups of coffee, handing one off to you. “Y/N, there is no reason behind this arrangement. I am...perfectly fine with how I am operating now.” Though it was subtle, you heard the slight tremor in his voice. He cleared his throat and sat across the table from you, avoiding looking in your direction.

You stared down into your coffee cup. “Can we at least try it?” Jack looked up and stared at you for a long time.

“Why are you so insistent on this?”

“I just...wanna help a friend.”

“You are suggesting that I kill you and eat your organs.” He stated bluntly. “Y/N, I appreciate the offer, I do. I just…” Jack paused, mulling over the words in his head for a moment. “It could not be a permanent arrangement. It would simply be too much, I would never be able to repay you.”

“What would you be repaying me for?” You spoke before thinking, not realizing how weird you probably sounded. Jack stared at you fully aware of how weird your question was.

“I would be repaying you for the amount of pain I would be inflicting on you.”

“Right. That.”

“Not to mention I have a limited supply of strong anesthetics. I could use them on you once, but the rest I would prefer to use for patients in need of surgery, not to fulfill my own needs.”

You watched as he lifted his mask, taking a sip of his coffee. His claws were razor-sharp, the glimpse of his fangs you got were even sharper.

Goddamn, why’d he have to be so moral? If he were like Toby or Jeff or any of the other fuckers in this forest he would’ve jumped at the opportunity. You really wanted to feel those claws tear you open and his teeth bite into your lungs. You wanted to nourish him so badly.

“Can we please try it? You can give me a shoulder massage or something after I heal if that calms your conscience.” You tried your best to keep your tone calm and not desperate or pathetic, but he still seemed a bit confused by your insistence. He stared at you for a long moment, before standing up with a sigh.

“Alright. If you’re sure you want to do this. Let’s go down to my lab, it will make the cleanup easier.” You got up a bit too quickly from your seat, following him downstairs to the white walls and floor of his basement.

It was a small, makeshift hospital room, one that you had been in a few times before when a broken bone was taking an annoyingly long time to heal or a wound was dripping blood and making a mess everywhere. He pulled out a hospital bed with a thin, uncomfortable-looking blue mattress.

“I’ll take out your heart, lungs, and liver, starting with your heart so that you die quickly and won’t have to undergo as much pain. Once I am done, I believe it should take roughly five hours until you fully heal and come back to life.” You hummed in response, trying to hide your disappointment at the thought of dying quickly. He would still have to break your ribcage to do any of that. You wondered if he would suck on your bones. The thought of him chewing on one of your rib bones like a dog was kind of funny to you.

You took off your shirt and lay down on the hospital bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You heard Jack pull a medical cart over to your side, before washing his hands and pulling on some blue gloves.

“You don’t have to treat this like a medical procedure, that’s no fun.” He got close enough to stare down at you again. With his mask off, his confusion was plain across his face, eyesockets wide and brows pulled together. It was cute how expressive he was behind that mask.

“How would you like me to do this?” He seemed to slowly begin to understand what you wanted, looking over your relaxed body for a moment. He hummed. “Well, I suppose...when I am cutting open one of my victims I am usually on top of them.”

“Okay.” You responded simply, turning back to staring at the ceiling. You could feel his gaze on you, trying to judge your reaction. You heard him mumble “This is not what I expected my night to turn into,” before hearing him move, the bed shaking a bit as he climbed up, pinning your legs between his thighs.

As he stared down at you, he wore a look of hesitant acceptance, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You are absolutely sure that you want this?” He asked. You grinned at him and nodded. “Would you like to establish a safe word or—”

“Dude, oh my god, just do it.” His smile widened to the point that you could see his sharp teeth behind his lips. He took a scalpel and made his first incision.

The pain only came after the second cut. As he gently pulled back your skin you bit at your lip, trying to not scream out in pain. A wince left your lips as he examined your ribcage, and you felt his hands pull back for a moment. Your vision was swimming as you watched him pause and study your face, before turning back to your ribs. He laid his palm across them, and he pushed down sharply.

There was a loud CRACK as three ribs broke at once. Your body went limp as you forgot how to breathe. You felt him gently pick up each small fracture of bone, placing them on the medical table. There were pieces of your ribs scattered across your heart and lungs; as you took a shaky breath you felt each piece move up and down. Jack picked up what he could with a steady hand, moving it out of the way with as much respect as he could. You thought he was talking to you, but all you could hear by this point was blood rushing through your ears.

Then when Jack was satisfied with your ribs, you felt his warm hand loosely wrap around your pounding heart. He took his pointer finger and thumb and carefully felt for your aorta, before bringing his scalpel closer. You saw his lips move, and could just barely make out him saying “I’ll see you in a few hours.” You felt a sharp cut across your aorta, then others across your veins, arteries, and vena cavas.

Your brain immediately began to panic as your blood stopped moving through your body. You stared up at Jack as your vision dimmed, seeing him bring your heart up to his lips, taking a large bite, blood dripping from his chin onto your exposed stomach. You managed a final smile at him as the world went dark.

You woke up still on that hospital bed. You ran a weak hand across your chest, feeling tidy stitches going down the center. Jack had cleaned you off, you couldn’t find a single speck of dried blood on you. Your regenerated lungs filled with the sterile air of the hospital room, the air feeling fresh and new despite you being in the basement level.

You sat up, looking around. Jack wasn’t there. There was a twinge of disappointment in your new heart, but you brushed it aside, standing up on shaky legs and making your way to the exit door.

The door creaked as it opened, and a pleasant smell hit your nose: breakfast. You quickly climbed the stairs, finding Jack standing at the stove, cooking some scrambled eggs.

“You eat your fill last night?” Jack nodded, turning to you with a gentle smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“Incredible.” You sat down at the table as Jack finished plating up your breakfast, placing it down before you.

“That’s good to hear. I’ll draw a bath for you, and then if you’d like I can give you that shoulder massage as well.” You had almost forgotten about that, still riding off the high of last night.

“Would you actually be down for that?” You asked.

“Your body is likely sore from the regeneration process.” Your body felt perfectly fine to you, maybe a bit weak but otherwise fine. But if he was offering it, it’s not like you were going to say no.

“Sure, why not? Feels like a bit much, though. I mean, I probably got way more enjoyment out of last night than you did.” Jack shook his head.

“I am more than happy to pamper you for the day.”

[socialredux]

𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 (𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑ)

The Proxies X Fem!Metalhead!Reader

Massive warning for graphic violence, self harm, and smut in ongoing chapters.

Hi teem, So this is gonna be a lengthy explanation. This story is loosely based on the black metal band Mayhem and some of the things the lead vocalist did. I HIGHLY recommend looking up both black metal and Mayhem this story will make more sense. ANYWAYS, there's mass controversy surrounding the band but idgaf. Black metal in the Creepypasta universe is fucking legendary, I saw an opportunity and ran with it. This series will be edgy, If you're triggered by self harm and dark subjects such as suicide this is not for you. Thank you for reading, you have been warned!

The proxies get sent by the operator to a black metal venue for a mission. The reader is the lead vocalist in a band called Funeral Terror Tim, Brian, and Toby are fascinated by the reader's profound performance. Never have they seen such a grotesque display put on for the public. They must take you to the operator.

??? Pov 

“ What the fuck even is black metal? That sounds like some lame ass gimmick.” 

The edges of Tim's vision still blurred with buzzing static. He had just finished conversing with the Operator.

“ Doesn’t matter, we have a job to do. We should be careful though this venue has a history of being incredibly lenient when it comes to its attendees.” brian said

“ Which m-means?” 

Toby questioned leaning back in his chair. 

“ Means these fuckers could be armed. Bet there’s drugs going around which would make our job even harder.” Tim said with a serious tone. 

“ We have to have our guards up especially if we have to talk with those.. people.”  

Tim’s pause was telling.

“ What’s the victim’s n–name?.” 

Toby’s shoulder jerked. Looking towards Tim for an answer. 

“ R/N R/L. The Operator told me she may be trouble, so all the more reason to keep our guards up.”

“ O–oo a girl! We haven’t had a female victim in ages!”

Toby spoke, whistling enthusiastically. Brian chuckled. 

“ Don’t get too excited, he wants us to bring her to him alive. There’s a chance she may be a candidate for a new proxy.” 

Tim got quiet 

“ Pshhh what could be so special about her. Besides! The Operator hasn’t chosen a new proxy since Toby.” 

brian said smirking

“ Yea–yeah and we do our jobs just fine. What could she do that we can't?” 

Toby said with a roll of his eyes. 

“ I don’t know but let’s get this over with.” Tim finished.

At the venue 

Reader’s Pov

Staring in the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. I felt like a shit though not many could see it so plainly. My clammy palms gripped the porcelain sink that resided in the shitty dressing room bathroom. I donned a short sleeve fitted Bahtory t-shirt, ripped camo pants, black boots, and a bullet belt. Scars littered my wrists and shoulders from past mutilation. Finishing my corpse paint really solidified my reality. 

Outside of the dressing room was bustling with staff making sure the stage equipment, lighting, and sound system were all in good condition. Some stopped and asked me questions while I fished a cigarette from my pocket. Basic annoying questions like-

“ Are you ready to perform?”

“ Are your bandmates ready?”

“ How many songs are you performing?”

 Lighting my cigarette pushed past the small crowd of people finding my bandmates tuning their instruments and lounging on a small couch. Above the couch pinned to the wall was a set list and a calendar. 2014 June 21st. This was the 5th show our band Funeral Terror had played, I wouldn’t consider what we were doing as touring but it was to some degree. 

Today’s concert venue resides in a small town called Tuscaloosa Alabama. The reason my bandmates and I chose such a seemingly pointless place was because of its alarmingly dark history. This town was the perfect place to play black metal. Maybe I’d get to witness some paranormal shit first hand. It also gave you an excuse to do some wicked things tonight 

“ There’s our deadgirl.”

Corpus greeted me with delight. He's my bassist, his real name wasn’t actually Corpus it was actually connor however, all of my bandmates had stage names. Mine being cadaverous.

Nodding at him with approval I took a long drag from my cigarette. Sighing in contentment.

“ What are our plans for after the show? I think we could go hit the local pub and get a few beers, heard their food fucks too.” 

My guitarist said with a shrug. His stage name was blasphemy. 

“ Hell yeah, I’m down, something tells me this night is gonna be long.” 

I say flopping down next to blasphemy on the worn couch. My cigarette loosely hung from my lips

“ Are you guys ready to raise the dead with this show tonight?” 

I say with a grin. My bandmates holler and whistle enthusiastically. 

“ Fuck is that even a question. I haven't been this pumped for a show in forever.”

Blasphemy said, taking a sip of his beer. 

“ How much longer do we have to wait for these openers to finish their sets.”

My drummer SKAG groaned. Almost as if right on queue the staff motioned for us to get on stage. We all stood up ready to take our places in front of the growing crowd. 

Showtime. 

??? pov

The four proxies stepped out of Tim’s sketchy toyota corolla into the summer night air. They observed the few people making their way into the concert building. Walking up to the door they were met with a tall lanky long haired man wearing some band tee Tim had never heard of. 

“ That’ll be a 10 dollar admission.” 

He spoke with a low tone. Great, we have to pay to get in too, Tim thought. Each proxy member handed over the money, getting not more than a casual nod to go in. 

“ I stu-still have yet to see a girl with our victims descript–-shion.”

Toby said.

“ We haven’t even made it through the crowd.relax.” 

Brian replied. The proxies continued to shove through the dense crowd. They settled on a row back from the stage. Keeping a close eye on the people around them and listening in on short yells of conversation. Finally a figure walked on the stage with brisk speed. The person was dressed similarly to the guy taking money at the door. 

“ Now for the band you’ve all been waiting for.. raise your horns for Funeral Terror!”

The crowd erupted with screams raising their hands bumping into one another. The lights dimmed the beginnings of a guitar riff ripped through the speakers, the movements from the people around the proxies became more rapid. Brian and Tim stood still while Toby began to bump against the crowd. Of course he’d enjoy this kind of shit. 

Finally the lights brightened casting a purple ghostly glow upon the lead singer who bellowed out scratchy growling vocals. It wasn’t a man as he had initially thought it was a woman. A woman that fit the exact description the operator had mentioned. Her S/C was painted a ghoulish white with black wisped around her eyes. Her lips painted into a black frown making her seem more corpse-like. 

“ G-get a load of her!” 

Toby yelled through the roaring bass of the crowd. Tim was stunned never had he heard such music. Each word she sang was drawn out in a growl and it rattled through the speakers in an ear piercing fashion. 

Towards the crescendo of the song the proxies noticed her gripping something from her belt, it was a knife. It looked dull from the glint it gave off. She raised her wrist to the view of the crowd, dragging it along the thin flesh of her forearm. It was so dull the slits were shallow giving only slight beads of blood. The frustration was evident on her painted face. Throwing down the dull knife she searched the ground, grabbing an empty bottle close to the forefront of the stage. The crowd continued to roar, the guitar riffs at their highest peak. Smashing the bottle she took what was left of the shattered glass raising her arm once more. She cut deep gashes into her already mutilated flesh. Blood poured from the searing wounds splattering onto the people below her. A few opened their mouths, some just looked up with amazement. It was a grotesque sight to see. 

All of it happened so quickly Tim, Brian, and Toby couldn’t help but stare in awe. This chick was fucking nuts. Toby could’ve sworn she caught his gaze just for a moment. The song ended, another one starting up the band finished a total of 6 songs before the concert ended. They pulled other insane stunts throughout the duration of their performance. The proxies shared looks as the band walked off the stage. 

The crowd began to disperse loud chatter took place of the long gone music. 

“ That was fucking in–sane!”

Toby said, still twitching with excitement. 

“ No seriously, I have never seen someone do such a thing. Especially in front of a crowd.” 

Brian said excitement also lacing his voice. Tim was in deep thought. 

“ She’s our victim isn’t she, Tim”

Brian asked with a head tilt Tim nodded. 

“ We have to go find the band before they leave or at least follow them to wherever they plan to go. “

The proxies nodded in agreement. 

Reader’s Pov 

The searing pain of my self inflicted wounds gave me such a rush on stage but now I’m left shaking. I felt dizzy. Everything felt far away as my bandmates helped me down the stairs backstage. 

“ You’re fucking crazy R/N. We gotta get your arms bandaged before we go anywhere.”

Blasphemy said worry very evident in his voice but admiration seemed to also be behind his words. He was serious though, even using my real name but I barely noticed. Everything blurred together as they tended to my arms. I hissed in pain as they Wrapped it with gauze and duct tape to make it stay in place. I felt guilty resentment bubbling up in my gut. The adrenaline passed and I was left with a voided feeling of numbness. Looking down at my bandaged arms made bile rise in the back of my throat. This feeling pained me but god, was it addicting.

My bandmates huddled around me, staying silent as the staff finished patching me up. I still felt myself shaking. I must've lost a lot of blood. Grabbing my pack of cigarettes, I put one to my lips. 

“ Can one of you give me a light?”

I request. SKAG nodded, fishing a lighter from his pocket. He put the lighter up to my cig, igniting it. I inhaled the smooth spiced tobacco sighing in relief. Honestly I could eat. 

“ So… Pub time?”

Corpus said with a meek smile. 

“You read my mind.”

??? Pov

“ I think  only one of us should go in.”

Tim suggested. The others nodded in agreement. 

“ Toby, I think you should go. You look like somebody they’d talk to.”

“ I don’t knu–know what you’re sugges–ting but fine.”

Toby rolled his eyes.

“Okay good, Brian and I will stay in here and keep watch. Maybe try to get her away from her friends. We'll figure out our next step then.” 

The proxies followed the foursome to the local pub named Donner's. They watched the band walk into the pub waiting a few spare moments before sending Toby inside.The door chimed with his arrival, Toby quickly scanned the small place. It was quite busy and the patrons were happily chatting away. He spotted the group of four sitting at a table near the bar. He made his way to a seat closest to the table. Getting comfortable he ordered a drink.

“ One of the house beers on tap, ple-please.”

The bartender nodded, turning away to prepare his drink. Toby began to listen to the table next to him. 

“ Holy fuck that reminds me of the time SKAG got so fucking drunk he fell in the bonfire then proceeded to yak in it too.”

One of the guys laughed maniacally.

“ I told you to never mention that again.”

One of the other guys said through gritted teeth. 

“ Ay corp you can’t say shit. Weren’t you literally passed out NAKED next to a creek 3 miles from the cabin.” 

R/N said with a raised brow. The table erupted into laughter. The guy just silently sipped his drink. 

“ One house beer.”

The bartender set the drink in front of Toby. He gave a meek thank you sipping on the wheaty beverage. Then suddenly

“ Hey little lady, you’re too pretty to be doing all that to yourself.”

A drunk guy slurred. Toby turned towards the voice. The guy was referring to R/N’s healed wounds that ran up and down her exposed arms.

“ Oh yeah? How bout’ you kick rocks you fucking geezer.” 

She bit back. 

“ Just trying to give you advice sweetie. No man wants a girl with those kinds of problems. No need to be such a cunt.”

He drunkenly barked gripping onto her shoulder. Before he could even get out another word she smashed her beer glass against his head knocking him out cold. The pub went silent seconds later her bandmates cheered. Toby was shocked. This girl is something else. 

“Hope you learned your lesson geezer.” 

She spit on his unconscious body before stepping over it.

“ I’m gonna go smoke, I'll be back.”

Her bandmates acknowledged her before going back to chatting. She briskly walked out the door. Fuck Toby had to follow her this was his chance. 

Toby followed out the door. Finding her not far from the pub entrance, lighting her cigarette.

“ H–Hey can I bum a cigarette from you?”

Toby asked. She gave him a look before nodding, handing over the pack.  

“ Need a light too?”

R/N questioned.

“ Yeah, thanks.”

Toby took a drag from it; he couldn't deny it was pretty good. He’s used to Tim’s shitty ones. They stood in silence while nursing their cigarettes. 

“ So u-uhh I saw what you did to that guy. That was pretty ha-hardcore.” 

Toby began. She chuckled.

“ Yeah, when people comment on things like that I don’t usually care but tonight was different…Hey weren’t you in the crowd at my show tonight?”

R/N question.

“ I w–was, that was one hell of a concert. I didn’t know thin–gs like that were allowed.” 

Toby said. She shrugged. 

“ I appreciate it.”

The two stood in silence for a few moments.

“ This chat was cool in all but I should ge–-”

Before she could even finish Toby knocked her out. He quickly caught her unconscious body spotting Tim’s shitty car. He be-lined it to the car dragging her along. 

The operator was hopefully going be pleased. 

This took me so long bro , Let me know what you guys think! I should have the next chapter out in a month or so maybe sooner :D I didn't proof read the whole thing so I apologize if there's errors!

[kharmii]

Memory of God.

Art credit: #volo (pokemon) Pictures, Comics on pixiv, Japan

A cute but disturbing comic where Adaman and Volo interact as children. It starts out with Volo living in an idyllic world with his tribe -The Platinum Clan, I presume- with Giratina present. Giratina expresses a desire to protect his people because they are soft humans without teeth and claws who bleed. He wants them to live forever so he can see them smiling at him for all time. (This is all me translating this on Google lens, then giving a quick, sloppy summary)

Arceus chastises Giratina saying they don't belong in their world. Proof is they are disintegrating. The leader of the Platinum Clan (?) or maybe the Pearl Clan even (the ancestor of Alder the Wandering Champion of Unova who is perhaps the Hero of Sinnoh Volo studied during his wanderings) expressed gratitude to Giratina for protecting them, but he said that it would be a boring existence, and that humans were stronger than they look. There's a mention of Giratina thinking about a suffering child.

Volo is taken prisoner by the Diamond Clan after his village is massacred. He is a hostage taken in a religious war. Every day they interrogate Volo asking who his God is, and he keeps silent. Meanwhile, Adaman is also a child who lost his family, and he was adopted by a kindly couple. He was also seen as an outcast. The clan thought he wouldn't amount to anything, so they pressured him into a future as living as a monk and a woman.

He was given the task to take care of the prisoner Volo. He would speak to him to try to get information. Volo comments he is being kind to feed him and take care of his wounds, and Adaman replies it is just a job. He does speak to the chieftain of the clan on Volo's behalf, and the chieftain replies he is a demon who is comparable to a beast and lump of flesh.

Volo is used as a decoy for hunters so they can kill wild pokemon. He cuts his own throat several times so he can no long speak, but it ends up being a lie because he can speak to Adaman to tell him the story. Volo's mind must have been broke at that point because he also claims that he can only be happy; god took away the ability to be sad or angry.

Adaman explains being an outcast of low status because he was born with an odd color of hair that was seen as being unlucky. Volo replies he doesn't care about it, and remarks it is the same shade as the God of Time. Adaman calls him stubborn for having beliefs contrary to their clan.

The weather is getting colder, and Adaman comments that Volo is going to need something warmer to wear. After that, Adaman is no longer able to take care of him, as he is tasked with other things and has to move on with his life. Volo is left to die with no allowance of food or adequate shelter. -But he doesn't die. Wild pokemon bring him food. The clan leaders decide to make up a story that their hostage is a demon, and they are great heroes for besting him. After all, the winners write the history. -But it's no fun torturing someone who doesn't response. Adaman is forced to see terrible things happen to his old charge. It ends with the chieftain saying over and over...I will kill you..I will kill you...everything has to die. Volo prays to God asking why this new world must be built on corpses. -But then it's implied that the eldritch presence of Giratina shows up to intervene right at the end.

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

Still haven't recovered from "Guardian Demon"

Still feeling physically sick from it

Help

Alright my advice for "so you read the controversial dark fic people sometimes talk about and now you kinda need aftercare"

Get some fresh air if possible, get outside, disconnect a bit, it doesnt need to be for long, but a walk around the block if possible can help

Get something warm and comfortable, make some tea, some hot chocolate, some soup, warm and easy to hold.

Detox it out of your mind. If you're like me you struggle to let go of thoughts unless you can vent them or express them. Gossip with a friend about it, ask to rant about it. While this doesn't help everyone and if you aren't careful could make it worse, I personally find being able to go "LOOK AT THIS BULLSHIT" to be a good way to make my brain move on from a topic

Self care, have you taken a shower lately? eaten? hydrated? you may just be lacking some biological function and it's merging with your unease, so making sure youre clean, fed, and watered can help reduce it.

Read some fluff, listen to some happy music, watch a calming minecraft lets play, let your mind settle down, look at cute shipping art of the, remind yourself that it's a story and they are fine, pet a cat

Alternatively, if you aren't the kind of person that works on, switch to dark content you already know you like. Listen to that heavy metal song about the devil, watch a horror movie you know you like, read a spooky story that you know won't make it worse. Hell, play something like fnaf and get jumpscared a few times to get your brain onto a different less upsetting kind of lingering anxiety.

Vent content, this is similar to the detox, but more creatively focused, write an alternative end to the story, draw a picture of kokichi looking cool and powerful, make a new ending, a new story, one where it ends how you want it end, where it gives the closure you want for the characters. Hell, write about your super cool oc going into the story and rescuing kokichi! Even if it makes you feel a bit silly or self indulgent, that's good! that means youre having fun again!

Not all of these will work or be appealing, but doing a few should at least help take the edge off it. I said it kinda jokingly but it really is similar to aftercare, you read a really dark story with sexual themes and you essentially safeworded, you're going through a similar crash. You aren't being dramatic, or weak, or silly, or overreacting, or anything. Intense emotions over a period of time, even if it's just a few hours of reading, can cause crashes in your brain due to chemicals going a bit funky. It's kinda like how if you get home from a super fun party you suddenly feel really down and unhappy, that's an endorphin crash!

So even if it sounds a bit silly to say it about reading a fanfiction, but if it's fucking with your head still, you need to give yourself aftercare

[goinsaneposts-blog]

Yandere Jason the Toymaker x Reader

Words; 1,626

Trigger Warning for mentions of Kidnapping, Blood, and abuse

Takes place in 1800's

---------

The dripping from a leak in the ceiling was slowly becoming background noise to your ears. The small scratches on the floor were long abandoned for keeping time. It could have been days, weeks, or even years at this point. All you knew was the only thing that changed was when that sick bastard came down to visit you. Sometimes he wouldn’t show up for days, leaving you hungry and thirsty. On other days, he would do nothing but hang around your cage, tormenting you with his ‘love’.

The only light you had was a tiny barred window, too far away for you to reach and yell. The walls were a deep red, easily covering up the blood your capture would spill. A small candle holder sat on top of the small table near the locked door, only being lit when he would enter.

Yet, you sat in the middle of the cursed room in a cage, much like a bird sitting by a window. Your dress, once a bright pale blue, was now torn to bits. The puffiness of it now gone making it look like more of a nightgown, than a hand-made dress. The edges of the dress now stained in blood, along with the white frills around your neck.

A bandage covered your left eye, a lasting memory from when he got too happy with a needle some nights ago. On rare nights, when you laid your tired head on the cool concert floor to attempt to sleep, the same nightmare would repeat.

That's where you were now, eyes glazed over before sleep finally overtook and replayed that cursed day.

-----

You had thrown a party that night, to celebrate your friend's most recent engagement. People from all over came to enjoy the night, devouring the tasty food and drinks prepared by the finest chef you could find. People danced and laughed, making the night that much more magical.

“[Your Name]! The party is great! Thank you so much, I’d dare say it’s the best one you’ve thrown yet!” Your friend praised, her voice slurring a bit due to the drinks. You smiled at her and took the drink from her hand and placed it on the table next to you both.

“I believe you may have had too much to drink, my lady, as we both know many other lords and ladies have put on much better parties than me,” You muttered. She let out a small drunken giggle and gave your shoulder a push, causing you to stumble into the man behind you. Quickly, you turned around to apologize.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I tripped over my dress and bumped into you!” Your excuse rolling off your tongue. You feared this man would yell at you, scolding you for being too clumsy. The taller male looked past his crimson bangs, pushing them out of the way to look at you with his pale-yellow eyes. His cheeks reddened as he made eye contact.

“O-oh! It’s not a problem!” He stuttered softly, dragging his gaze down and back up to meet your eyes. You lightly kicked your friend who started to giggle behind you. With a small bow, you turned back to your friend who you scolded as she dragged you towards more drinks.

Long after the party was over and all the guests had left, you had finally made it up to your room. Talking and meeting so many people was exhausting and the only thing you had on your mind was sleep. You regretted not getting to formally meet to redheaded man, but another boy with bright yellow hair also stuck out. He had offered to dance and honestly was one of the nicest men you had met.

Finally closing the door behind you, and slipping the top layer of your dress onto the ground was one of the most relaxing actions you did tonight. However, before you could remove your corset, you finally gazed around your room. The bed had been tossed around, like someone had made love in it, and your vanity had been flipped over-the glass from the mirror scattering on the ground.

A soft rustle echoed from the corner and before you could turn or even scream, a soft jab hit your neck.

“Sshh.. It’s okay, everything will be alright…” A deep voice whispered into your ear. The voice was familiar, but before you could place who it belongs to, you fell into the stranger's arms and faded into a deep sleep.

The soft click of the door unlocking and a pair of heels clicking on the tile awoke you from your restless sleep. Your stomach dropped and you quietly muttered a prayer to whatever God would listen. As Jason approached, you sat up and pushed your spine into the bars behind you. Jason placed his hands on the bars of the rusted cage, leaning into the small space with a bright smile.

“Good evening, my doll! I do hope you’ve slept well. I do also apologize for not being around as much as you would like… I was out getting a get a little gift for you!” He giggled a little, jiggling the cage a little bit as if to try and convince you to move away from the bars. Somehow, his sick mind still believed you had feelings for him, that some man had manipulated and convinced you to not trust him. Like someone put a curse on you.

Of course, he was proud of himself to finally break you of that man's ‘curse’.

Jason reached into his pocket, fumbling around for a moment. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, fearful of what his newest ‘gift’ would be. Jason would say it was out of the kindness of his heart that he would bring you stuffed animals and small toys, eventually bundles of your favorite flowers. At first, the idea of small gifts brought a little calmness to you, until the stuffed animals started to smell and leak a dark reddish brown liquid. The flowers would wilt in the first hours, revealing the body parts of your friends and loved ones. The toys would blink, almost as if alive, and to be honest you didn’t want to look and be near them more than you had to be.

When you finally looked up at him, you noticed the small swipe of blood on his brow and the lightest stain on his white collar. His smile didn’t meet his eyes and only grew when you finally made eye contact.

Finally, Jason pulled out a small tuft of bright hair, holding it into the cage and allowing it to flow to the ground in front of your feet.

With a bandaged hand you covered your mouth to shield a scream that tried to creep up the back of your throat. After all this time, you had some small hope that a dashing young man would rescue you from this hellscape, and whisk you away like those fairytales your mother would read to you late at night. You closed your eyes, allowing a few soft tears to fall to the floor. Knowing in your heart that poor man was laying in his pool of blood, waiting to be discovered.

After a few moments, you felt a hand tug on your chin, pulling you closer to the bars. Jason's warm breath fanned over your tear-stained face.

“You know I’m only doing this out of love for you, my doll…” His hushed voice sent chills down your spine. His glowing eyes traveled down to your trembling lips and he slowly moved in closer, attempting to place a sweet kiss on your lips. It was something he felt he craved, often dreaming of the sensation late at night. He felt guilty for keeping you locked in a cage, but Jason also knew you would try to run as soon as you got the chance. He craved to have you all to himself, with your warm pressed up against his as you truly excepted him.

When his lips brushed against the side of your hand, he paused for a moment. You looked away bashfully, tears still daring to stain that pretty face of yours. He pulled away for a moment, and peering down at you threw his now whiten bangs. How dare you refuse a kiss from him; did you not want him the same way he wanted you? Anger boiled within him as he reached into his shirt, pulling a key from a cord wrapped around his neck.

You backed as far away from the door as you could as Jason carefully unlocked it, standing at the entrance with a blank stare. Finally, he lunged at you, wrapping his rotting hands around your neck, squeezing just enough to restrict your airflow but staying conscious.

“I swear on my life you will learn to love me…! Even if I have to kill every last person you knew, I will! I promise it!” Jason yelled, flinging spit onto your face. Your weak hands flew up to scratch and claw at his, trying to get some sort of air into your lungs. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and black spots slowly grew in your vision. It wasn’t until you went limp on the stone floor did Jason finally let go. He leaned down, resting his head against your chest and running his hands through your hair. His eyes closed as he tried to listen.

“I promise, I you will never be able to leave me…” His hushed voice only echoed slightly.

Finally, he stood up, looking down at your limp body with nothing but a wicked smile on his face. He turned, closing and locking the bars behind him, leaving a small stuffed animal just outside of the bars and snuffing the dying candle on his way out of the heavy door.

[degenrcy]

jeff da killa puts you to sleep ->

warnings: rape, blood, death, stalker, he totally loves you

link to ao3 if you want to read as i update, because who knows when or what i'll post on here!

a calm summer night. fresh sheets and a new pajama set. you lotioned up well, did your skincare, put up your hair securely after its own special treatment. a 3-wick vanilla scented candle filling up your room, soft music playing from your open laptop.

you slipped your panties on after sliding off your towel, showing off to the laptop and potential dark web perverts watching you through your tapped camera... just kidding! that stuff wasn't even real, who cares, nothing bad has happened to you ever anyways.

you were perfect; smooth and clean, smelled like a girl, looked like a girl, you probably felt like a girl. you were mesmerizing, clueless, naive, dumb, stupid, stupid, stupid bitch. a dumb, fucking idiot who left their window open on this calm summer night. multiple windows, just in case a possible intruder murderer rapist burglar wanted to do a house tour before intruding murdering raping raping again and robbing you.

i guess girls stay up late too, the light of your phone dulling out the shape of your face. expressionless, smooth cheeks, no longer smiling. just scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. one day you'll find the one- the perfect video to wrap up the night. not tonight.

boots touched down in your bathroom, mirror still foggy with products lined up on the sink waiting to be properly closed and put away. you were messy, lazy. you buy all these things, but don't have a place for them. you're useless.

he pondered the thought of flickering the bathroom lights. getting your attention. stabbing you through the shower curtain. it wasn't fun like that. this was going to be fun.

not much decoration for a girl like you. there's a dedicated board with pictures of friends and maybe some other meaningful sentimental items. he ripped off a photo booth picture of you to stash in his wallet and show you off to his friends... right. if he could smile anymore, he could. he wanted. he was.

slow calculated, heavy steps closer to your room. the vanilla and coconut and strawberry and burnt hair from the dryer wafted through the air. it was adorable, you trying to be so many kinds of girls at once... but there you were, in all your glory. natural state, relaxed, no performance in sight. his eyes widened at the sight-

girl. bra-shirt. pink. shorts. panties under shorts? alone. looking at phone, headphones, perfect. wait, even better, you tossed and turned a couple times before finally settling on showing your bare back to him. ass.

he slipped through, caressing the blade in his pocket. his fingertips twitched against the sharp side, edging closer and closer to nicking himself. but that would hurt. that's why he does it to others.

he watched your phone with you for a while, the mass amounts of content you ingest at once and switching through the same 3 apps was bound to drive you insane at some point. no wonder you haven't fallen asleep yet. ah, your ass jiggled a little. nice.

you couldn't even scream when he finally pounced on you, perma-crazed eyes forcibly locking onto your fear-filled ones. cold against your throat. pressure on your stomach holding you down. smooth, smooth, silky smooth skin. his fingers were disgusting against your mouth and nose, no more vanilla-coconut but dirt-blood-disgusting-horrible-oh-my-god-howdidyougetinherepleasedontkillmeohmygod

he was just gonna help you fall asleep!

"lift up your shirt." he commanded, twirling around the very used knife in front of you, leaning back to let you move. this is where you scream, attract your roommates and neighbors- oh wait thats right you're alone and he would've killed everyone else in the place and look at that, whimpering and lifting up your shirt. tiiiiits.

your phone buzzed with a text message, briefly lighting up the room. his face now dimly lit, and your face was completely disgusted. now you hurt his ego, so you were really gonna get it.

he twirled the knife back into his grip, stabbing through your precious phone. his free hand found its spot back at your jaw, gripping tightly until your cheeks smushed together and dug into your gums. he stared, unblinking, lowering the knife closer to your warm skin. he wanted to crawl inside you, burrow himself in your ribs, feel your womanly-warmth all the time and have you coddle him and rock him around while you walked around.

"take off everything now, slut."

you shook like a newborn deer taking its first steps and he was the obsessed hunter growing his collection of cute deer heads on his wall. he hummed in satisfaction as you peeled away your soft panties, trying to cover up and slow the process as much as possible. jokes on you, he loved a strip tease.

his knife tapped your knee, mouthing "open. up." silently, smooth shiny legs parting open for him. the flat of the blade rode up your thigh, your frail hands daring to try and stop him. a quick turn of his wrist and slice the first little baby cat scratch stretched across your bare thigh. your lips trembled underneath his fingers, tears welling in your eyes. you took it like a champ!

he let the blood soak up the blade as much as possible, giggling to himself at how sick you looked and how you writhed under his weight when he rubbed it into your face. he made a smile on your face with your own leg-blood. he licked your face, laughing even more as you cried. he spit on the knife, a bloody gob dripping down the length of it, then slid it down to your cunt. his heart swelled at your body freezing up, tensing, preparing for the worst. no no no, he wasn't cruel, not a monster.

"don't move," he huffed, undoing his pants as quick as possible and finally freeing his dick from its constraints. he rubbed the knife on himself, grabbing your wrists with on hand, holding them above your shaking-no head. no-no-no, side to side. "go on, beg me not to."

"p-please," you obliged. "anything but this, please, i-i don't know what you want..."

he rolled his eyes- heard it all before. he wiggled his way inside you, being as scared as you were made it a tight fit. it always did. he loved it.

you gave in so easily, you weren't even trying to kick him, what a little fucking whore. the nerve to make it seem like you didn't want it, hilarious.

he slashed your beauty a few more times, letting it trickle down your sides and into the bed sheets. he rubbed it all over your chest and stomach and face, tonguing your mouth with iron-taste filth and cigarette residual. you were getting quieter as he moved his hips faster, eyes rolling up to stare at the ceiling instead of the hideous creature inside you right now. he understood, the bodys way of coping and all.

he could let go of your hands now, they remained above your head anyways. phone out, flash on, record. in another life jeff would've loved to be an amateur pornstar. he got the best angles to watch his dick slipping inside you, blood inside and out and all over, it was fucking hot. he closed in on your face, the flash forcing your eyes closed and mind back to earth.

"n-no, please, don't." you only could cry, single word demands fall on fully hearing ears that didn't give a shit. he dug the knife into your face, ripping a scream finaaalllyyyy from that pretty throat. he tore a smile across your face, pushing himself to cum as deep inside you as he could. he groaned, eyelids twitching and buried in your cunt. he pumped himself a couple times, using you to the fullest. he dropped the knife on your bloodied-pink satin pillow, kissing you harshly.

he moaned into your teeth, it was like a fountain of blood pooling into his mouth from yours- it was perfect. the smell of sex and blood, perfect. the smile on his girl's face after fucking her to sleep, perfect.

you hiccuped as he rummaged through your stuff, not much use to him. lame diary, cheap jewelry, not many electronics other than the one with a hole in it beside you. he was getting hard again just at the sounds you were making, whining for round two. moaning from the pain.

"yeah yeah i'll be right there." he waved you off, palming himself through his boxers while emptying out bags and purses and wallets. when he was done, he caressed the side of your face as he slid his cock along your ruined face. the bloody slit that was your mouth did wonders, especially when he dug the blade into your chest and you started gurgling and bubbling. it felt fucking amazing. he's never had a girl like you. so perfect.

you soon went limp, arm dangling off the edge of the bed and dripping onto the fuzzy little carpet you had for your feet in the morning. the floors got cold, but you always forgot to put on your slippers. he sliced open your arm, just for fun. he peeled back the layers of skin and fat and bone and muscle, he's sorry he put you through all of this. his fingers wiggle between your nerves and tendons- jeff even wondered if he dug deep enough, pull on some strings, could he move your fingers around like a puppet? get you to jack him off even in death?

[vonloup]

Okay chat I need y'all's help with something. Especially creepypasta fans since this thing that I need help finding is creepypasta related

⚠️ MENTIONS OF GORE, DEATH, DARK THEMES, AND MURDER⚠️

So when I was younger I was looking on Quotev looking at creepypasta fanfics and I read this one that was a proxies x reader and I remember the plot was something like how y/n and her friends went out to this cabin out in the middle of the woods and I don't remember why they were there but what I do know is that they were talking about how they killed someone A few years ago and I'm pretty sure it was y/n that said something about how she didn't hide the bones properly and that could have been the reason why they were there at that cabin. But I'm really not sure, and then creepy stuff starts happening and I remember something happening with the phone that was there but I don't really know what, and eventually The proxies come in and they start picking off all of y/ns friends I remember hoodie had a shotgun and I remember that he shot one of y/ns Friends in her chest. But she didn't die at first because she had breast implants in but her chest was completely gone, like it had exploded but the breast implants had stopped the bullet. I don't remember what happened after that but I remember y/n had gotten into the back of someone's pickup truck and escaped. That's all I remember from that book and either there was a second book or the book had continued on and it was about y/ns life after that whole accident happened and eventually The proxies come back for her and that's all I can remember.

I've tried looking for it on there and there have been a lot of proxy stories uploaded on there since, I can't remember the name of it but if someone does please let me know because I've been looking for this for ages. Also sorry if it's all a bit much I used the voice to text thing on my phone because I didn't want to type all of that out. But please let me know anything about this story!!!

[offbrandipndotz]

jeez i missed creepy pastas

or darkfics whatever it’s called

paint cans by acidsoda on ao3 is good

[sugarandice3]

Self Destruction

AN: So this is one out of (hopefully) three chapters for a slenderverse-inspired fic I began a long time ago. Truthfully, I would love to continue it, but I am in college and leisure time is hard to find so just a little encouragement would be welcome. Also, given my lack of beta readers, this will probably resemble more of a rough draft than a polished piece, so constructive criticism is more than welcome. But, without further ado, my fic. Self Destruction.

Warnings: Mild horror and mental health issues.

Word Count: ~4K.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Chapter 1: Homeward Bound

The road stretched onward for miles across flat Montana earth, only stopping when it met the wakening horizon. Glaring light filled Keres’s vision, searing the image of the sunrise into her eyes and obscuring the abandoned highway. With a groan, she flipped up the useless sun visor and reached across to fumble around her passenger seat for the pair of sunglasses she had tossed there yesterday. Her fingertips finally brushed against the beat-up aviators as the tires buzzed against the boundaries of the road, warning her of the vehicle’s drift. Keres quickly slid the glasses on, returning both hands to the steering wheel and correcting her wayward car. Glancing at her rear view mirror, she looked through the dust covered glass to make sure that her brother’s little black truck was still behind her. Oliver was farther back now than he had been earlier, but in the early Montana morning on this empty stretch of highway, the greater distance didn’t matter. It only made her feel better that he probably hadn’t seen how far into the other lane she had drifted during her quest to block out the blinding sunrise.

Sweeping unbrushed auburn curls back behind her ear, Keres turned her brown eyes back on the monotonous pavement and focused on keeping her eyelids from lazily sliding half-closed. It was only day one of a three-day road trip back home and Keres was already exhausted. College had not been kind to her. 

“College is never kind to anyone,” she mumbled, correcting the self-pity that seemed to be more incessantly tainting her thoughts lately. Just because she wasn’t able to handle the pressure doesn’t mean that classes and being away from home were harder for her than they were for anyone else.

Rubbing her leg, Keres adjusted her grip on the steering wheel and checked for her brother one last time. She sighed again and reached for her phone to turn on some music. It was going to be a very long couple of days.

The red Toyota pulled into a silent motel parking lot, gravel and grit crunching under the tires. Orange street lamps shone weakly around the wings of the building, giving spots of haunted color to the monochrome of the lightless evening. The car came to a slow stop in front of a worn motel door and after a moment, the engine cut off and Keres stepped out.

“We definitely could’ve picked a better place,” Keres muttered, taking in the patches of wind-peeled paint and the withered grass filling the cracks in the pavement. 

It definitely wasn’t a 5 star motel, but Keres and Oliver had known that when they made the reservation. What they hadn’t known was that the reviews had been extremely generous.

The motel sat on the outskirts of town, bordered by derelict, trash-strewn roads. Eerie silence pervaded the area, occasionally broken by a passing car, but nothing more. Even in the patchy lot, there sat only a handful of vehicles and Keres wasn’t even sure that most of them were guests here. At least, she hoped that the van emblazoned with the name of the pest control across the street wasn’t here for an extended stay. 

The sound of tires spraying gravel announced the arrival of her brother, prompting Keres to cease her critical assessment of the place. It was just one night after all, and it wasn’t like a good night's sleep would cure her exhaustion anyway. Letting out a heavy sigh, Keres turned back to her car to retrieve her backpack while her brother pulled into the parking space beside her. 

“Well, this place certainly isn’t gonna win any Google maps awards,” Oliver said grimly, keys jangling as he hopped out of the truck. 

“It’s just one night,” Keres said, to remind herself just as much as him, “And  the less time we spend awake in this place, the better.”

Keres pulled on the dusty handle and opened the door, pushing away all the stuff that had shifted during the winding drive through the hills of Montana. With a grunt, she pulled her backpack out and swung a worn strap over her shoulder, settling the weight more comfortably as she straightened. 

“Well, we should probably go check in,” Oliver sighed, leaning over the front of his truck and running his hands though brown curls in desperate need of a trim.

Keres leaned back against the car as she turned to her brother and replied, “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you look up some places to eat while I get the room key?”

Oliver nodded, pushing off of the truck and walking around to fetch his phone from the passenger seat. The old door gave a grating creak as he opened it, sharply breaking the heavy silence. Both siblings froze, an unnatural apprehension taking hold of the two. The night air seemed to condemn them for the desecration of its quiet, a palpable threat riding the echoes of the noise. For a moment, Oliver and Keres stood there, both of them pretending that they didn’t feel that shiver up their spine or the nervous buzz of a mind on edge. Several beats of silence passed before she stopped holding her breath.

“Roomkey,” she breathed carefully. 

Her voice broke through the miasma, the unease beginning to dissipate like a bad dream the moment her words left her mouth. Oliver straightened, as if surprised, and glanced at the door handle his hand was still resting on. He thought for a moment then slammed it shut with more force than needed, rebelling against the irrational anxiety that had almost faded away. He half-turned to her and nodded his agreement. 

“Right.”

Keres glanced at her own door, shut it gently, and turned away from her car, ready to follow her brother. Then the two moved together, passing under the orange street lamps like a pair of ghosts, all color washed away in alternating gray and orange. They slipped past door after door, all of them so quiet that it seemed as if the entire place was vacant. The slightest noise echoed under the overhanging roof and washed loudly into the parking lot, making it feel as though anyone nearby could eavesdrop on their presence here. The feeling was slight enough to easily be ignored, allowing it to twist uncomfortably in their subconscious without their hindrance. 

As they made their way to the brightly lit office at the end of the wing, Keres became puzzled at the hollow and oppressive feeling of the place. Yes, the reviews weren’t glowing, but they didn't mention anything about the place feeling unsafe in any way. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head tiredly and lagged a bit behind her brother. They were just tired, that was all. She and Oliver had been driving by themselves all day, creating the perfect conditions for mental exhaustion. Stress and sleeplessness was putting them on edge.

A few paces ahead of her, Oliver called to her.

“Come on.”

Keres looked up at him and realized that they had reached the end of the wing and that he was holding the door to the main office open for her.  

“I’m coming,” she replied, lingering a moment longer before walking the building.

A current of cold air blew past her as she entered, unexpected after standing in the dry heat outside. Keres smoothed her hair back and walked up to the reception desk in the far corner of the lobby. Although the consistent lighting of the room was something of an improvement from the scattered lamps outside, the unsettling feeling of the whole property continued even here. She looked back at her brother as he let the door swing closed behind him. He stood stiffly, strung up to his full height with his shoulders drawn tightly forward, noticeably on edge. Keres looked around for an explanation to the feeling they both shared, something that she could blame for the uncanny nature of this place. 

The room decor was as lifeless as the rest of the building. Chairs that were clearly hardly used but were worn down all the same, plastic plants potted in dust, soulless paintings that Keres somehow felt were outdated despite the generic abstract pattern. Everything seemed out of place, yet she somehow knew this is exactly how everything was meant to be. There was a purposefulness about it, something that she couldn’t contribute to the sleepy manager who just stumbled from the room behind the desk and was trying to pretend she had been there the whole time. Oliver and Keres walked over together, but Oliver stepped forward to talk to the woman, temporarily shaking off his stiffness to put on a warm smile. Keres took a position a step behind him, flashing the woman a small smile as well, but she went unnoticed while he was the focus of the manager’s attention. Oliver was always a charmer, so that didn’t surprise her. Keres usually left the social interaction to him anyway. Having no interest in the small talk going on, she paced over to the window on the other side of the room. Looking through the streaked glass, she vaguely wondered if she could’ve also been capable of easy charisma like Oliver. It didn’t feel impossible, but there were walls that would have to come down first and then learning how to see people the way they wanted to be seen. 

“Alright, thank you so much! Have a good night Mia.” 

The closing of the conversation broke Keres from her ponderous staring, prompting her to turn and look at the woman waving goodnight to her brother. Mia looked out of place here, merely because she was alive in a place that only pretended to understand what that meant. Other than that, her appearance fit what you might expect of someone who ran a shabby motel. She had shaggy brown hair with grown-out, trashy highlights pulled into a messy bun and jarring makeup gave her face an unnatural business that was entirely too much to look at this late at night. Keres didn’t necessarily think less of her for her entirely avoidable appearance, but it did make her curious. What did people see in that? What did she see in herself? What did she see in others?

Once again, Keres was absorbed in her thoughts, her brother’s wake pulling her out the door and back into the heat of the night. 

“She seemed nice,” she mumbled, walking behind her brother.

He counted out the numbers they passed each door, searching for their room. She watched the back of his head, curls bouncing as he nodded and replied, “Yes, she was nice. A bit odd, but I don’t think you could expect normal in a place like this.”

“A place like this,” Keres repeated thoughtfully. 

She was still trying to figure out what that meant. What was this place like? Because what she felt here was not like anything she had felt before. It was unique. 

They stopped in front of a door near the end of the row, thankfully close to where they parked. Oliver slid the dull key into the lock and attempted to turn it, but the old knob was loose, twisting and jostling with the key. Her brother heaved a sigh and muttered something under his breath as he leaned closer to the door and began delicately messing with the troublesome apparatus. While he struggled with the door, Keres turned around to scan the sagging fence that bordered the parking lot. As her eyes roved over it, she wondered how it was still standing. The fence was caged by the brittle remains of whatever short-lived vine decided to weave between the rotting boards and it rattled like old bones whenever the hot breeze blew against it. She couldn’t see beyond the fence, even though she knew there were buildings out there. Cocking her head, she squinted at the darkness. Even though there weren’t any buildings close by on that side, there should still be some light, some glow that she would be able to see outside the perimeter of the fence. Keres took a few steps into the lot, searching for any shape or light outside of the area.

Something was there.

Keres froze, tendrils of terror constricting her chest and locking her limbs in place.

There was a figure standing beside the lamp post, just behind the fence. And it wasn’t human. Nearly as tall as the pole next to it, its form was grotesquely stretched, thinned and elongated beyond any natural capability. The head, thin and elongated like the rest of its body, was completely featureless and sickly white like deadman’s flesh. 

Yet somehow, without any eyes or expressions to tell her so, Keres knew that it was looking at her. The ambient world faded away, leaving her no familiar comfort while she faced this figure. Blood rushed in her ears and her ragged breathing came quick and shallow. She knew that it was looking at her, but there was more to it. It knew her. She could feel it in her bones, the invasive knowledge of her mind that it possessed. 

It knew. It knew everything.

Panic buzzed on the edges of her vision like static and all she could see was that face. That expressionless, featureless face. 

Keres suddenly couldn’t breathe anymore. Choked by her own fear, she wanted to crumble under the sightless gaze of this thing because standing under the weight of her own shame was too much. 

Her knees buckled and she hit the ground. The collision jolted painfully up her spine and the rush of blood in her ears climaxed to a shrill whine. She could not move, she could not look away, she could not speak.

“Keres!!”

The word echoed faintly around her, holding no meaning as it faded away and became part of the static hellscape. 

“Keres!!!” 

Firm hands grabbed her shoulders as her name rang out again. 

Everything stopped. The shrill whine of bloodrush, the black dissolving the edges of her vision, the fear-locked limbs, all of it stopped as her mind was slammed back into the reality she didn’t know she had been pulled from. 

Free will suddenly coming back to her, Keres desperately drew in a breath, filling lungs that had been too constricted by fear to act on their own accord. She keeled forward onto the crumbling pavement, catching herself on her elbows as he coughed roughly and sucked in air. The hands on her shoulders provided a steady pressure and banished the spell of isolation from before.

“Keres!! Can you hear me? Keres, answer me!!” Oliver shouted, voice gripped tight with concern. His fingertips dug into her skin, almost as terrified as she was. 

“Where did it go?” she gasped.

She lifted her head to scan the fenceline, and upon not seeing the figure, another shock of fear lanced through her body and her insides roiled violently with adrenaline. 

As she twisted to find the phantom attacker, Oliver caught her by the shoulders once more and spun her to face him. 

“Keres, what are you talking about?” he snapped, using one hand to make a large, sweeping gesture around them, “There’s no one here!”

That made her pause, staring back at her brother with hunted eyes. She saw her own fear reflected and magnified in his eyes, clearing the racing thoughts the residual panic was flooding her mind with. Traces of fear still remained, but it was now hidden away out of sight, festering until it could be triggered later. 

She took an anxious glance around them and whispered, “You didn’t see it?”

Oliver shook his head. Some of the tightness left his shoulders as he carefully let her go now that the urgency of whatever fit she was having had passed. 

“There was no one there,” he replied carefully, “I just turned around and you were kneeling on the ground, but you weren’t breathing and you just kinda went rigid.”

They stayed silent for several moments, each looking intently at the other as if they could find the answers underneath the fear in eachothers eyes. While Oliver’s face was struck by concern, Keres’s remained a mask and showed only what she could afford to express. How could she explain what she had seen, what she had felt? It was built on so much that she had kept hidden that to talk about it would require her to bare her soul, and Keres couldn’t do that. If she wasn’t convinced before, now she was. That other being had known her and all she felt was judgment and shame. She was almost crushed by the weight of that knowledge, of the stranger that showed her how revolting her true nature was. How much harder would it be to show that to someone who she cared about? To reveal the twistedness inside and still ask to be loved? It wasn’t possible. As things were right now, at least she was able to pretend that she was faking just as well as everyone else. 

Drawing in a long, steady breath, Keres finally crushed what was left of the fear and met her brother’s eyes with a firm gaze.

“I’m okay now,” she said, “I’m sorry I scared you.” 

However, Oliver’s fear would not simply be brushed aside. He had not seen the being, he didn’t know that this was something personal.

He shook his head in response and said, “I think you had a seizure or something. We really should get you to the hospital-”

“No,” she cut him off. The last thing she wanted to do was be stuck in a hospital for hours, only to be told nothing was wrong with her. Keres knew that the problem wasn’t physical.

“I think I just locked my knees,” she lied, “I’m fine now, really. Let's just get into the room so I can sit down.”

Conflict visibly flickered across Oliver’s face. Keres was too drained to argue, however, so when he didn’t make any move to insist on anything contrary to her wishes, she reached over and took the key from his limp fingers. Slowly, she turned her back on the fence line, now shadowed with a dull city glow, and stepped up to the motel door. The knob rattled loosely in the door, but it let her in, stale air drifting past her as the door swung inward. Keres didn’t look back at her brother, whose eyes she felt on the back of her neck, and went straight to the bathroom. She rested her elbows on the greasy, discolored linoleum for a moment, rubbing at her temples. 

“I’m fine,” she chanted to her haggard reflection, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

The girl in the mirror solemnly shook her head in response, the lies rolling off the glass like water droplets. They both knew that wasn’t true and hadn’t been for some time. Frustrated, Keres stared into blank eyes, tears welling up and clinging to her lashes. Why couldn’t she make that true? She looked down, unable to look at the lies the reflection showed her, and turned the worn faucet. The water gurgled out and splashed in the stained basin, swirling hypnotically around the slow drain. Cupping her hands beneath the flow, Keres brought the cool water to her face and washed it over her skin. She let it trickle down her neck and drip off her nose, grounding herself in these sensations as she tried to find any emotion left inside her after what had just happened. Like the sink, she numbly wondered if all the emotions had drained away, leaving her a stained shell. Everything would come back, it always did, but somehow she knew that she wasn’t in charge of the faucet anymore. 

Straightening, Keres spared one last look at her reflection, at her hollow face, and left the bathroom. Oliver was laid out on one of the beds, watching something on the TV. His face wasn’t quite relaxed, his whole demeanor seemed troubled, and more so when he heard her exit the bathroom. He tensely sat up a little, watching her with apprehension. He opened his mouth to say something as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed, but Kere held up a hand to stop him. 

“I’m fine,” she said, the lie coming easily after so much practice. Drawing some power from the dregs of emotion in her gut, Keres offered him an easy smile as she sat down on her bed. 

“I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.” 

Oliver nodded and returned her smile with a relieved grin of his own, the tight lines of worry in his face easing a little at her false assurance. 

“I’m glad,” he responded quietly, “You really scared me back there.”

Keres looked into her brother’s eyes and saw the pools of fear her episode caused that haven’t yet drained away. Nodding, Keres smiles at him again, lightening her expression so that she won’t be able to see fear reflected in his eyes anymore. 

“I’m sorry I scared you. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure you won’t see it again.” 

He smiled at her and laid back down, loudly yawning as he settled back against the mattress. The springs groaned as he moved and Oliver winced in disgust at the sound. Keres mimicked him, laying down on her own lumpy bed, and stared at the buckling popcorn ceiling. The two laid in sleepy silence for quite some time, food forgotten now that both of them were too tired to have an appetite.  

Eventually, her brother got up and got ready to go to bed, flicking on lights as he went. Keres closed her eyes and sighed, pushing herself up to a chorus of squeaking springs and slid off the bed. She felt like a mimic, an echo that followed behind Oliver’s actions as he went through his evening routine. It felt strange, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about it. 

In a few minutes, everything was done and they were both ready to go to sleep. The two slid into bed, and Oliver clicked out the light after wishing a goodnight to his sister. Keres hummed in response and lay in silence, listening to her brother’s breathing slow as he fell asleep. The darkness pressed in on her, thickening until it was almost palpable. It wrapped around her like a bad promise and fear resurged within her as it writhed around her. Huddling under the blankets, Keres closed her eyes and submitted to the fear, allowing it to crash over her until she fell into an anxious half-sleep

[madelynpryor]

kids who dreamed about creepypastas saving them from their homes grow up to be batman fans i dont make the rules

[channnel]

Every time I would imagine Hoodie, Masky, and Toby in a slice-of-life comedic fanfic, my mind would always immediately go to the trio in 'Markiplier makes'