#creepypasta fanfiction

[creepypastaisthebestpasta]

JEFF: Guess what- Y/N: Chicken butt!! JEFF: What the fuck did you just say?? Y/N: Nothing...

[4kingz]

ticci toby nsfw headcanons

warnings : 18+ mdni, dark content / themes, possessive behavior

Rough around the edges, rougher in bed. Yeah. He’s got that unhinged, jittery energy that screams feral while fucking you. He’s not polished or suave—more like he acts on instinct. Expect messy kisses, bruising grips, and the kind of intensity that feels like you’re the only thing grounding him.

He lives for reactions. Toby’s a watcher. He stares—blatantly. He likes to see you squirm, fluster, gasp, beg. He’s not the type to look away shyly. Nah, he wants to memorize every expression you make when he touches you, every sound you let slip. He’s obsessed. Pain kink? …Yeah. Given his CIPA (can’t feel pain), there’s this twisted curiosity about watching others feel. He doesn’t want to hurt you in a cruel way, but he might test limits—scratches, bites, grabbing too hard just to see the red marks. It’s part fascination, part fixation.

Likes control… but not in a "do as I say" way. He doesn’t order you around so much as he corners you. Pins you. Grins while he takes his time. He’s chaotic, unpredictable. He’ll tease until you’re begging, just because he wants to hear you crack.

His aftercare is surprisingly sweet. Post-intensity Toby softens. He gets quiet. His hands, once gripping too tight, now trace slow circles on your skin. He doesn’t say much, but he stays close—almost clingy. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Hates feeling exposed—but loves exposing you. Toby’s not about the lights-on, stripped-down vulnerability for himself. He keeps his hoodie on, bites his gloves off, and keeps that layered look unless you really earn his trust. But getting you flustered? Undressed? Sprawled? He thrives off it.

Likes it desperate. Not just yours—his too. He gets obsessive. Once he's into someone, it consumes him. Expect urgent kisses like he’s starving, touches like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, muttered curses under his breath while he grips you tighter.

He struggles to say it, but his touch tells you everything—mine. Every bite, every bruise, every lingering stare says it louder than words ever could. With Toby, it’s never casual. It’s all-consuming. Expect to be wanted. Expect to be marked. And don’t expect to leave his bed without a souvenir or twenty.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Awkward

pairing: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

summary: You had planned to hang out in the woods on your day off, but the sound of Toby training reminds you of an awkward encounter. Confronting him leads to other things.

contains: a nervous toby, a little bit of a confession, toby's in loooooove, kissing

warnings: toby walks in on you half naked (encounter is under the RED DIVIDER!! skip it if you don't want to read it cuz it is kinda NSFW), awkward talks

wordcount: 1.5k

masterlist

a.n: needed to feed my toby fiends (i missed writing about him). also, for the EJ request, i am working on it, don't worry babes

The dark blades of grass tickled you through your long-sleeved shirt. You could smell the crisp autumn air as the cold kissed at your skin. Today wasn't the worst, you noted. You even had the right amount of sun. The orange-red leaves were cushioning your head, and these woods had never looked more beautiful. It was perfect. 

Thwack. Thwack.

It was perfect. 

You try to ignore the sound of Toby practicing his aim. You want peace and not be reminded of the awkward encounter you two shared. You shiver internally at the memory.

Having been tasked with another mission, you wanted to throw the biggest tantrum. It felt like you had just gotten back from one. As much as you might've enjoyed hunting, your body would get so sore. 

That’s why you were petulantly - and very slowly - getting dressed. You timed it; how long you should put an article of protective clothing to drag it out as much as possible. You just had no idea that this wasn't a solo mission for you. 

You were new. At least, new to Toby. He was used to the timely manner that Tim and Brian would respond when on a mission. That’s all he would remember until his eyes glazed over, leaving him as little more than a puppet to the Operator. He honestly thought you had forgotten about getting partnered with him and about your kill. He was right about one thing. That's why, unbeknownst to both of you, Toby was rounding the corner to barge into your room and yell at you like he used to be yelled at for taking too long.

Your bedroom door had swung open, and a heavy silence came afterward. You - being in the middle of putting your shirt on - had stopped to whip your head in the direction of the now-open door. If only your reflexes had the decency to let your shirt fall all the way.

Toby floundered, his mouth opening and closing dumbly. He didn't know why he couldn't - or why he even needed to - say anything. He could just close the door and not stare at you like he'd never seen a half-naked human body before. A very attractive half-naked human body that belonged to a very attractive human he had a massive crush on. 

He realized that now as the two of you stared at each other for a comically long time. His throat felt like it was the dryest it had ever been, and he worked to stop a heart attack from ensuing - and his dick from getting hard. But his eyes were struggling to stay glued to your face and not the way that your chest was on full display. He wanted to rush in so badly and squish his face against your - nope.

“Ooooh, fuh-fuck,” he whimpered. From embarrassment, you hoped. He squeaked out an apology before slamming the door shut.

Toby almost messed up the whole operation that day. You knew it had something to do with the incident, but neither of you wanted to address it at all. 

That was the whole reason Toby was throwing his hatchets like no tomorrow. You had to stop Tim from beating him into a bloody pulp. He said that if Toby liked his hatchets so much, he should learn to not fuck up his throws. He had no idea of what nightmare he had unleashed for anyone in the younger man’s vicinity. 

You try to shut out the repetitive sound of steel meeting wood. And the heavy, breathy grunts that came out of him, but you weren't going to get into that. As much as your brain screamed at you to ignore his presence altogether, a very loud, small part of you wanted to talk to him. You only recognized that as wanting to yell at him for being annoying. 

After a few more grueling seconds, you sit up. You internally hype yourself up to confront him as you stand up. You reach behind you to brush off any leaves or dirt that stuck to you. 

You'd only made it halfway to him when he heard the crunch of leaves. He knew it was you. Jesus, had he memorized the sound of you walking? How pathetic could he be? He contemplated scrambling in the opposite direction and leaving behind all his stuff for a moment. But when he saw your face come into view, he was stuck. Rooted, planted in his spot, and at your mercy. 

You offer a small, awkward smile before speaking up. “Could you –“

“I-is it the-the…” he trails off, glancing at the hatchets.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yeah, it’s the… it’s pretty loud.”

“My…my bad.”

“No, it’s – it’s fine, really, just… ya’know…”

Toby nods, grunting softly as he dislodges a hatchet from a very abused stump. He – pretends – to inspect it for a moment. “I have to-have to practice. I can’t hhhhelp how loud it-it is.”

You blink, taken aback by his defensiveness. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“I’m-I’m just sssayin’ that if it’s bo-bothering you, you cuh-can go back to the-the cabin,” he almost mumbles the last part when he sees the look on your face.

“Ooo-kay,” you turn to leave, not wanting to deal with this.

“Wait – wait!” Toby drops his hatchet and takes two big steps closer to you. “Ssssorry, that didn’t-didn’t come… out right.”

“No, I understood.”

“Then why ar-are you making thuh-that face.”

“What – “ you can feel your cheeks start to warm up. “What face, Toby?”

He points at you with a gloved finger, his right brow twitches. “That-that face.”

“I don’t make any face.”

“Yeah, you duh-do. Happens a lot-lot when you talk to mmme.”

Oh, you need to get out of here. Like, right now.

“Won’t look at you again, then.”

You go to leave again but get stopped by a hand on your arm. It’s warm – he’s warm – and your brain almost short-circuits because of it. It’s gentle, more than you thought he could be. You can feel the involuntary movements due to his tics, but you can tell he’s being careful with you.

“It’s not-not a bad th-thing, or whate-whatever,” he lets his arm fall to his side like he just realized what he’d done. “Just… nuh-notice it, ‘s all.”

“You’ve stared at me enough to notice that?” You scoff, intending to tease him, but your voice comes off a little shaky.

Toby doesn’t respond immediately – he just shifts a little to get closer to you. He doesn’t trust himself to speak because he knows he would’ve immediately said yes.

Yes, he stared at you enough to notice that. Yes, he actually, really liked your face. Yes, he’d thought about kissing your face many times. Yes, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sight of you when he opened your door.

But he couldn’t just say that. You always seemed annoyed, or tense, when he talked to you. And even then, you two didn’t talk a lot. Toby, not fond of being in the cabin for too long, was always outside. He noticed that you mostly stayed inside – preferring the comfort of your room. Part of him wanted to experience that with you. He hadn’t had any type of comfort in a while.

Toby realized that he must be freaking you out with how long he was staring, but – wow, when had your face gotten so close? Toby couldn’t believe that not only was he leaning in, but so were you. It seemed like an invisible magnet was pulling your faces closer until he could feel your breath on his face and smell your heavenly scent. A scent that he would only be blessed with every time you walked by. But now it wasn’t a fleeting aroma. No, it was so much stronger than he ever hoped it could be.

For a moment, all you could hear was the wind and the rustling of the trees in response to it. You couldn’t help but feel it all be stripped away. As if everything had disappeared, leaving just you, him, and this moment. You both paused before any contact could be made. Your eyes flickered up to Toby’s, and he did the same before your gaze fell back to his mouth. You always admired how pink they looked, so kissable. Oh, god, were you going to kiss him?

He steps a little closer – he’s inches away from you now – his head tilting slightly. His lips part, and it causes you to swallow involuntarily. Your brows pinch together, and you look back up at him. The sight has him yearning to grab your face and planting a long, bruising kiss to your lips.

You feel your pulse thrumming as he leans in to close that last inch. His lips press onto yours softly – almost tentative – and then his hand finds yours. The rough texture of his glove rubs against your skin as he pulls you closer. You can just feel how much he’s holding back – holding everything in his power to not brush his tongue against your bottom lip.

When you finally break apart, neither of you speaks. He smiles widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he almost looks absolutely adorable. Until he opens his mouth, that is.

“I knew-knew you liiiiiked meee,” he sang, shimmying his shoulders a little.

You almost punched him.

But, in the end, kissing him again would satisfy the two of you way better.

[fattuccini-afraido]

Toby: There's no "I" in "team" but there is one in pizza.

Y/N: So, you're not going to share?

Toby: I'm not going to share.

[bloody-heartstrings]

after reading the girl in the attic i need to see ben drawn by you. please hes so awkward i love when he shows up

Absolutely 😜

I’m planning on drawing actual portraits for everyone in my fanfic but I have art block and I’m too lazy at the moment.

I really love writing BEN in my creepypasta x reader fanfics, mostly because I feel like he’s one of the few creepypastas who would genuinely have feelings for the reader and not view them like “ooh new toy me want”.

Although you are gonna hate me for what I do with him in The Girl In the Attic so apologies in advance lol

[valentinesworld4ever]

Can you please write some soft Ticci Toby??? Like the reader insists on taking care of him for once

Care for me!

A/n; anon omg I LOVVVVEEEE this pls, also sorry if this isn't what you wanted 😭

Summary; toby never had someone to care for him, so when you come along and decide to do just that? Well one things for sure, you're never gonna get rid of him

Warnings!; general fluff, mentions of abuse, killing and wounds, Toby's bpd acting up especially towards the end

Toby didn't have much experience, he had obviously dated clockwork for a year or so but again but they both had their own issues meaning the two of them never had the time to comfort each other, their lack of experience and the trauma in which broke them up, but when you came into his life that changed? How could it not. To set the scene imagine this, Toby had just finished up from a mission, the person he killed putting up a tough fight leaving him scratched, cut and generally emotionally hurt, it was never easy to kill someone, but when they're fighting so much harder to stay alive? It really took it out of him.

But you, oh you, you were so kind, the newest to the mansion at the time, your soft gaze widening when seeing the tears well in his eyes, your soft hands grabbing his and asking him what was wrong? He liked you instantly, you didn't care to judge him for crying, you never judged him for asking for help cleaning his wounds and for that he truly knew you were someone he wanted to be around.

Toby after that moment never wanted much more from this friendship, not until at the dinner table your fingers intertwined with his, almost as if you knew he was beginning to panic, he knew he was whipped, his brown eyes staring into yours, and for a second the world stopped.

And toby again didn't expect this to continue, who would want to be his friend, to look after him, so he tried to put an end to this and make you NOT like him, but when he came home one night after being gone all week only to be met with your crying face, asking him where he had been and how you thought he was dead, he knew he just had to kiss you, and that's what he did, kissing you between his apologies, telling you how he'd never leave you again, and for a moment just a moment the world stopped again

[darkromanceenthusiast]

slender with reader whos easily startled?? so he doesnt even realize when he teleports to them it would be a problem..been on my mind

Pairing: Slenderman x reader

Contains: fluff, Slenderman is the eldritch horror we love, you think he cares or understands human emotion? That's cute.

Unfortunately for you… Slender doesn't care about his own proxies getting slaughtered, so I doubt he'd care if he startled you.

If anything he's glad because those precious seconds you spent gawking with your heart pounding gave him an opening to grip one of his tendrils around your waist.

Now you're dangling upside down with you're face 0.2 inches from his featureless one.

“You smell delicious when you're scared, Darling.”

If you faint that's fine, its easier on him.

Once he's sure you wont run away he will become less antagonistic with his teleportation, usually choosing to appear in front of you rather than jump scaring you from behind.

That is assuming you're let out without him.

I always think Slenderman would easily be one of the most possessive creeps due to the sheer amount of inside knowledge you'd have on the operator because Slender doesn't like letting you go too far from him.

There was absolutely a stretch of time he had you chained to his desk.

Masky, Hoodie, and Toby are all there actively trying to ignore their rising annoyance at the crying/terrified person their boss is currently trying to coax into his lap.

Masky would probably end up whacked upside the head with one of his tendrils because he made a comment about killing you.

Toby would low-key just feel bad for you but keeps it to himself.

Slenderman sometimes forgets about the whole “humans have basic needs” things y’know cause he's not human so imagine his surprise when you tell him you cannot in fact eat raw meat.

He also realizes how careful he has to be with those static headaches after he nearly gave you a brain bleed :(

If you're not a captive but rather one of his proxies you'd be one of the only one he gives a shit about.

Expect near constant jumpscares, your only warning is how silent the forest gets before he materializes.

He almost always puts you in those bullshit page posting duties and you know each time he's gonna try and blend into the trees until he catches you.

Honestly, it's probably his idea of a fun date.

Its even worse when his voice does the telepathy thing, so there's nothing anywhere and then you have a voice IN YOUR HEAD and you STILL CANT SEE ANYTHING.

He genuinely, deeply, adores your fear almost as much as he wants your love.

[strawberryflavoredvenum]

TicciJack fanfic. Light angst but a happy ending

Toby has trouble deciphering what's real sometimes. Jack is concerned for him.

Thank you @reddetur for the prompt! I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I have experienced hallucinations but I'm not schizophrenic. I do not have the experience to give a 100% accurate depiction of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia also isn't just hallucinations. I am studying psychology and mental disorders in college and care very deeply about not making creepypasta into stigmatizing mentally ill people. Sorry if setting a disclaimer seems excessive, I just care about it a lot.

.

.

.

Toby doesn't flinch much at shadows anymore.

There comes a point in someone's life where they see the same thing over and over again and it no longer affects them. Sure, certain hallucinations still get to him. The random touches or sudden loud noises. But not so much these ones. The shadowy figures that creep around in the corner of his vision. They never make any noise or touch him. Once he got used to it, they just became a nuisance. Well.. during the day at least.

The introduction of demons, killers, and paranormal entities into his life has made it a little harder to recognize whether something is real or not. Before everything happened, he could rely on other people's ideas of reality. That is, if he wasn't having an episode. Now that he lived in the mansion he couldn't tell himself that the ghosts, shadow people, insane psycho killers weren't real.

Something that keeps him at ease is the reaction of others. He can always look to the people around him to gage whether he should be worried or not. If no one else is looking at it then he shouldn't either. But that strategy can only go so far. It doesn't help when none of his peers are with him.

But honestly nothing could have prepared him for tonight. It's not like these things sprung up on him or anything. He could feel himself slowly getting worse. His motivation to care for himself plummeted and he became disorganized. Then came the intrusive thoughts and the increased hallucinations. He knew staying up all night wouldn't help but there was no way to fall asleep with everything going on. He was too paranoid and every time he got close to sleep, a loud sound would go off or he would feel like he was falling.

He was downstairs in the kitchen bar preparing his late night guilty pleasure. Four slices of bread with butter. He was looking out to the living room, watching all the figures and random colors dance around. He would be lying if he said he wasn't about to run back upstairs with his bread so the shadow people don't get him. His motions were slower, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. He felt like there was a spotlight on him. He could tell himself that nothing he's seeing was real. That they weren't even approaching him. Just walking around and watching. But nothing was going to convince his subconscious that he wasn't in danger.

He sandwiched the slices together and wrapped them in a paper towel to make transport easier and started walking to the stares when a figure came closer. He flinched but ignored it-That was until it fucking grabbed him. Toby let out a scream slightly too high pitched to be a man's and punched the figure in the jaw. He was met with a solid object that made a grunt and quickly backed up and grabbed their face.

Toby took a moment to step back and catch his breath before flicking the kitchen light on and seeing Jack. He was holding the side of his face and glaring at toby. "Jesus tobes I was just trying to see what you were doing. It's 2 in the fucking morning!" Toby caught his breath and looked a bit sheepishly at Jack. "......I thought you were someone else?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell would be down here that you would want to punch?"

Toby looked away. To the discarded slices of bread on the floor. He had dropped them when he sucker punched Jack. "No one in particular." Toby hoped that Jack would drop it. Jack wasn't stupid. Hallucinations are not uncommon in the mansion. He's even had them a time or two during sleepless nights or when missions went on for too long.

He sighed and helped toby pick up the remains of his food. "Out of all things you could have ventured out into the dark to grab, four slices of buttered bread was what you chose?" Jack questioned. Toby looked up at Jack. "Well what were YOU down here for?" Jack shrugged. "To smoke." He said, gesturing towards the front door.

Jack threw the bread away and shook his head. Half a loaf wasted. He returned to toby. Toby didn't look well. He looked tired but his eyes were wide open, looking into the distance. Jack took him by the shoulder and started leading him to his room. "C'mon. You don't need food, you need sleep. Staying up is only making things worse." Toby followed but looked conflicted. "Weren't you going to smoke?" Jack shrugged again. I lost the urge. My jaw hurts too much. He teased lightly. Toby looked away. "I didn't mean to." That was Toby's way of apologizing without actually saying sorry. Jack just nodded and kept walking.

They made it to Toby's cluttered room. It got like that when he let his mental health slip. Jack took it all in but made no reaction that toby could discern. He pushed toby into bed and firmly told him to lay down. Toby raised an eyebrow but was too exhausted to really care. He laid down and sighed.

"so what now?" Toby asked. Jack sat on the side of Toby's bed. "You sleep and I watch over you." Jack's tail had made its way to Toby's hip. The weight of it was comforting in a way. Toby gave a bit of mumbled words salad that Jack pretended to follow and had a few more bad moments before finally falling asleep.

Jack looked around Toby's room. It was hard to gage how Toby's doing sometimes. He never outright said anything. There was a look in his eye that he sometimes had but the biggest indicator of his well-being was his room. With nothing better to do, Jack started sorting through his friends stuff, putting things where they belong and putting his laundry downstairs.

Jack watched over him the rest of the night. He returned to his room just before sunrise so no one else would know he spent the night in Toby's room. Toby woke up sometime that afternoon. His body was sore from sleeping for so long but his head felt a bit less cluttered. It wasn't fixed but it was better than before he slept. He saw his clean room and blushed deeply. He couldn't believe he let Jack see him like that. Jack didn't actually mind Toby's mess at all. He was more concerned with helping his friend(crush).

[marsphobic11]

Distorted Daydreams.

Chapter 1: House Warming

•Summary: After leaving behind the fame and chaos of her grunge band “Dirtspine” a recent college graduate moves back to her quiet hometown, Nockfell, seeking solitude. Settling into her new two-story house, she expects a peaceful, uneventful life-until she meets her peculiar next-door neighbors. Among them is Larry Johnson, an old childhood friend she never expected to see again, along with his unique roommates.. Todd Morrison, Neil Douglas, Ashley who was a fan from her training days, and the mysterious, masked, Sal Fisher. A story of drugs, new beginnings, and the unexpected bonds that form in an instant, but why?

•Warnings: None, No established relationship.

•Word Count: 877

•A/N: I hope this is a good intro. First three chapters are slow, but I have to introduce everyone so please bare with me!

I am a recent college graduate and used to be a part of a band called Dirtspine. Although I rose to fame in a grunge band, and touched the hearts of many people who felt just like me. The happiness faded and so did our spark, still I never would've thought we'd become disbanded, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me positively. Due to the fame of the band and my newfound salary, I had no desire to stay in the spotlight, so I moved back to my hometown.

I now own a two-story, two-bedroom house in Nockfell, which I bought as soon as I had enough money for a down payment. From what I had seen so far, the neighbors seemed rather nice. In the house, next door lived three college boys—one with curly orange hair and glasses, another tall with a bit of a caffeine addiction, and a guy with long brown hair. Pretty peculiar neighbors, but so is everyone—so who am I to judge? However, the blue-haired guy that came to visit them stood out the most because there were so many unanswered questions. Was his hair naturally blue? Where was he from? Because he didn't seem to be local. And why did he wear that mask?

As I stared out the window, surrounded by brown cardboard boxes, I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts by a loud knock on the door and a faint voice complaining, "Why did you have to knock that loud?" Instantly, I ran to the door and opened it. Unfortunately, I was unaware of my horrible state—wearing black leggings, an oversized knit sweater that almost engulfed my figure, and horrible dark circles from staying up late setting up my drumset in my room.

The long-haired boy at the door held out his hand for a handshake, which I returned with my best fake smile.

"Hey, I'm Lar—"

He suddenly looked shocked, and so did I. As I gazed at him, recognition hit me like a wave. My childhood friend from years ago—the one I had grown up with when my parents could only afford the shitty apartments near my grandparents' house. It was Larry Johnson.

My eyes gleamed with happiness as I shook his hand again. "Larry! How have you been after all this time?"

His reaction mirrored mine as he grinned and said, "I've been awesome, dude! These are my roommates. I guess we're your new neighbors now." He then pointed to the house directly across the street.

I instantly responded, "Damn, what a coincidence that is..."

The blue-haired guy next to him seemed a bit concerned and asked, "Did we wake you up? You look tired."

Quickly, I replied, "Oh no! Just a late night with moving."

They weren't trying to invade my space, but the boxes stacked behind me looked as if they were ready to collapse. Noticing this, the ever-blunt Larry offered a hand to an old friend in obvious need.

"Man, that seems like a lot of boxes for one person..." He turned to his orange-haired friend, then looked back at me. "There are three strong men and a very smart, calculated fella who could help."

The blue-haired guy stepped in. "I'm sorry to butt into the conversation, but we wouldn't mind helping if you need it," he said, his eyes squinting in a way that indicated a smile.

"We can get to know each other better as well," the orange-haired man added with a friendly grin, while Larry nodded in agreement.

I hesitated for a moment, but it was a small town. If anything went wrong, I could run and get help pretty quickly. So, what was the harm?

"Sure thing, I'm (Y/N)."

They all smiled and introduced themselves as they stepped into the house. Their names were Todd Morrison, Neil Douglas, and Sal Fisher—all seniors in college, except for Larry, who "went wherever the wind took him," which currently meant working at a local guitar shop.

The time we spent unpacking was surprisingly enjoyable. It made me feel closer to them already. They seemed more like a family than just friends—more than I could say for myself.

By the time we finished, it was already dinner, and I still hadn't gone grocery shopping. But by some grace of fate, Todd suddenly spoke while placing a book on a shelf.

"I noticed you don't have any groceries, and it's getting dark. Would you like to eat at our house? We usually order pizza, but tonight I was planning on making some casserole."

I stood there blinking at the question. I had never really been invited somewhere just because someone genuinely wanted me there. Normally, it would be my sister's friends being forced to invite the sweet girl their parents felt sorry for.

Snapping back to reality, I quickly answered, "Yes, I'd love to come!"

And just like that, I found myself being led to the next-door house by four guys I had only just started speaking to.

[creepypastaisthebestpasta]

[Y/N, doing pre-med homework] Y/N: I hate learning about the kidneys! EYELESS JACK: Well I love them. Y/N: Why? [loud silence]

[4kingz]

ticci toby how he kisses you

Toby kisses you like the world’s ending in five minutes and you’re the last thing keeping him grounded. It’s not even that he’s trying to be hot about it—he’s just starving for you. Every time. Like he’s making up for years of missed affection in one breathless sitting.

He’ll grab your face like it’s the most important thing he’s ever touched. A little too fast. A little too tight. But the way his thumbs brush your jaw? Pure instinct. He needs you close—can’t stand even a second of space.

“J-Just—stay here,” he mumbles, lips brushing yours mid-sentence. “Don’t move yet. I’m n-not—done.”

He never is.

The kisses come in quick bursts, like he’s not sure how long he has before something takes you away. He’s got this frantic little laugh between each one, almost unhinged, like kissing you is the only time his brain shuts up. And if you try teasing him about it?

“You’re literally obsessed with me.”

You throw it out there half-teasing, half-smirking, expecting a flustered protest or maybe a sarcastic comeback. He pauses for like half a second, just long enough to be suspicious, then tilts his head and mumbles,

“...Yeah? S-so?” Like it's not even up for debate. Like it’s obvious.

That’s all the warning you get before he’s on you—hands in your hair, sliding under your shirt, gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. He doesn’t kiss like he’s in love. He kisses like he’s desperate.

Eventually, he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes still blown wide, lips a little swollen.

“S-say it again.” “What?” “That I’m obsessed.” “…You are.” His lips are back on yours.

Chaotic, clingy, kiss-drunk mess. But he’s your mess.

[darlingdreadwrites]

The Blade

pairing: Jeff the Killer x Final Girl!Reader

part: 1, 2, 3

summary: Jeff has you pinned to a tree, and you have an unexpected reaction. Stabbing is supposed to end someone's life, right?

contains: smut, thigh riding

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, violence, stabbing, knife kink?, implied character death, degradation and praise (felt this was super important), pet names and name calling (baby, sweetheart, bitch)

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Your movements are growing erratic, desperation flaring with every rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’re spinning, stumbling – caught between the frantic need to fight or flee, and the undeniable pull of his presence. Jeff’s eyes blaze as he watches you, amusement dancing across his features – until you make the mistake of rushing him.

He’s got you – his hands lock around your waist, and he pins you both until your back slams against the rough bark of a tree. Pain lances through your spine, but it’s nothing compared to the terrifying proximity of him. His breath is hot on your skin, the chill of his knife barely grazing the delicate skin of your neck, the cool steel teasing just above your pulse. Your heart races beneath the pressure of it, until you’re met with another pressure.

“Stay still for me, girl,” his voice drops, and it’s almost soothing in the way it promises control.

There’s that familiar, traitorous ache between your legs. You can feel your clit throbbing, screaming for his thigh to move against it and save you from an urge you’ve been hiding for months. You moan – unintentionally – your hips shifting forward, pressing against the hard length of him. You don’t care anymore, you need this—you need him.

A smirk dances on Jeff’s lips, his knife barely moving, just a slight inch of its edge pecks at your skin. He pulls back slightly, eyes flicking from your trembling body to your face, curiosity curling the edges of his lips.

“Oh?” His voice is quieter now, full of jeering. “What’s this?”

You stare up at him, hoping to god that he would just leave it be. But a louder part of you silently begs him to take this further.

Before you can respond, his leg slides between yours, pushing against you. His proximity – the heat radiating from him – is suffocating. His breath is searing against your ear as he leans in closer.

“Go on,” he whispers. “Let’s see how fucking desperate you are.”

You could cry. From embarrassment or appreciation, you don’t fucking know. But you can’t stop the roll of your hips, the relief you’re suddenly feeling almost makes you want to thank him. The friction sends a shiver through you, warmth pooling low in your stomach. The edge of the knife rests just above your pulse, its sharpness still present. You can tell, though, that he’s not going to hurt you. Not yet.

“Look at you,” Jeff taunts, adding more pressure against you. “Grinding on me like a bitch in heat. Is this what gets you off, sweetheart?”

You don’t know what to say. His words stroke a heat in your chest, flush creeping up your neck. The rush of humiliation is overpowering, but your body – and the way your underwear sticks to your cunt – betrays you. You whimper, unable to suppress the sound, your hips moving more urgently.

Your breath is coming out in shallow bursts, and you turn your face away. You want to hide the way his words make you ache, but Jeff won’t allow it. His free hand shoots up, gripping your chin with a startling force. He forces you to meet his gaze, his eyes holding a malicious delight.

“You know,” he murmurs, his cock twitching inside his pants when you moan. “I’ve thought of you, too.”

The brush of his thumb against your bottom lip sends a jolt through you, your breath hitching involuntarily. The need to taste him – the heat and salt of his skin – becomes too much. Your mouth opens, and with a whine, you take his thumb into your mouth.

His breath catches at the feeling, his brows furrowing briefly. The slight pressure of your tongue against his skin makes him shudder. He grunts at the sensation of you sucking his thumb, at the warmth of your muscle.

“I’ve thought about how much I’d love to have that pretty mouth of yours choking on my cock.” You feel him push his thumb deeper, your mouth accepting the intrusion. He coos mockingly, his bottom lip jutting out as you choke pitifully. The heat of his skin is intoxicating, and you moan against his thumb – a helpless sound that only fuels him.

“You’re trembling, baby,” Jeff purrs, a laugh escaping his lips as you struggle to regain control. “What is it? Fear? Or something else—Oh, you’re so pretty like this.”

He watches you closely, occasionally pressing his hips against yours so you can feel his erection. He loves being the thing that tears at your composure and adores how needy you are for him to do it. You can feel his words wriggling their way inside your head, making it hard to think clearly. The pulse of his knife at your throat is the only thing that’s keeping you roped to reality.

His thumb slides out of your mouth with a wet pop, and you glare up at him. But the incessant throb at the apex of your thighs feels far too delicious for you to deny how much you’ve been wanting this. You hold back any more sounds, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Shut up,” you hiss, the words barely escaping between gritted teeth. You shift, pressing harder against his leg.

Jeff’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, filled with cruel delight. “You’re fucking perfect when you’re desperate. Keep going, sweetheart. Show me how bad you need it.”

With each drag of yourself on him, a hot spark shoots through your whole body. Despite the cold, you can feel the sweat on your skin from the heat just underneath it. Mewling, you fight the instinct of tilting your head forward, choosing to painfully press it deeper against the tree trunk.

Your chest tightens, and you can feel your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. Your orgasm is building swiftly as you move faster against him, moans turning into short, quick gasps.

You whisper, barely audible, “I hate you.”

And yet your hips grind against his thigh, stuttering as you’re chasing the peak of your orgasm. The tension between your bodies builds, electric and undeniable. You huff as tears swell in your eyes, blurring your vision. You’re quivering against him, and a whimper comes from you, which he responds with a moan of his own.

Your pussy clenches around nothing just as your knife slowly sinks itself into his abdomen, your mouth opening to let out a loud, guttural moan as he grunts.

The flesh gives way to a sickening squelch, the blood pooling around the wound as it seeps into the fabric of his hoodie. You can feel the warm wetness of it on your fingers, the sticky heat clinging to your skin as it spreads across his chest.

But Jeff doesn’t flinch. Instead, he growls, his eyes flicking down to where the knife is buried in his body, before lifting to meet yours again. His grin returns, but it’s softer now – almost impressed, like he’s savoring the moment. The blood seeping from his wound doesn’t seem to faze him, not with the way he laughs.

“Damn, baby,” he rasps. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You’re breathing hard, the buzzing high starting to settle in your bones. The pain of the cut you took earlier is a distant pulsation now, joining the throbbing of your heat, and replaced by the charge of power surging through you.

Instead of pulling back, instead of retaliating with that sick smirk or another violent move, Jeff drops his knife on the ground next to you both. He leans closer, his breath warming your already flushed cheek. His hand moves to cup your jaw, his fingers firm against your skin.

His touch is gentle, far too gentle for the chaos that’s ensued, and it sends a strange chill through you. He tilts your head slightly, brushing the bridge of his nose along your jawline in a move that should feel tender, but instead only adds to the tension between you both.

His proximity makes it impossible to think as your chest heaves from exertion. The world narrows down to just the two of you – the sharp pain of the knife lodged in his flesh, the blood still seeping out in small rivulets, and the warm press of his body against yours.

His lips are on yours, crashing into you in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss that leaves no room for hesitation or mercy. His warm tongue slides against yours, taking everything from you with one smooth, hungry movement.

The kiss is intense, a clash of lips and teeth – the sounds of your exhales resonant into the night. You can feel every rasp of his breath, every pulse of heat from his body, as it mingles with the blood from the wound beneath his hoodie. It’s too much – and yet – you don’t want it to stop. Your body melts against his as you lose yourself in the ferocity of the kiss.

But your grip on the knife doesn’t waver. You twist it slightly, the motion intentional. It’s enough to remind him that you’re still in control here.

The kiss lingers, both of you breathing heavily, and unwilling to pull away just yet. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

He doesn’t break eye contact. He whispers against your wet lips – slick with spit – his voice challenging you in dark admiration.

“Do it.”

Five Months Later

Days slip into one another, marked only by the lingering sense of anxiety that clings to you. The silence of your apartment is louder than you ever realized, the absence of the usual noise – your breath, your pulse, the relentless ticking of the clock – replacing the sound of him. Jeff – the fucking bastard that had gotten under your skin in ways you never wanted, but who you knew would never leave.

The night of the fight feels like a distant memory, though every time you close your eyes, his face flashes behind your eyelids. And it was just as mocking and cruel as ever. But you were sure – so sure – that he was dead. You remember how his body had gone slack against the tree as you helped him sit down on the dirt. He didn’t move – not a twitch. Not a sign of life. You had left him there, slumped and lifeless – convinced that it was over.

The cops didn’t find him, and they hadn’t found him since. No news reports, no searches, nothing. And that never sat right with you.

You had told yourself that you were free – you were safe. But that left a disappointing taste in your mouth. You didn’t want it to end despite you telling yourself that you should.

But still, every corner you turn, every quiet moment spent in the dark, there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t quite shake. It lingers, a reminder that not everything is as it seems.

You’ve tried to move on. But it’s hard to let go when his presence is so ingrained in your mind, when you wish it was his fingers inside of you instead of your own. You’d been forced to carry on with the mask of normalcy, each day the same as the last – each breath a little shallower than the one before.

Then one evening, just when you think you’ve finally gotten used to the quiet, when you think maybe – just maybe – he’s really gone; you walk into your apartment and find it.

You set your bag down as the door closes behind you, you lock it and breathe out. Another night of pretending. You’re about to make your way toward the kitchen when something catches your eye – a small, simple envelope. Its edges are crisp and clean, lying innocently at your feet.

You freeze.

At first, you think it’s from Miller. There’s no return address, no hint of who might have left it. The weight of it seems to drag your entire body toward it. It’s a magnetic pull that you can’t resist. Hesitantly, you bend down, the envelope smooth under your fingers. The breath you didn’t realize you were holding finally frees itself as you tear it open.

Your heart hammers in your chest when you pull it out, your whole body going cold. Inside, nestled carefully within the folds of the paper, is your hunting knife. The one you used on him.

The one you thought you’d left behind, buried in his body as he bled out against that tree.

The blade is pristine, spotless – no blood. No sign of the chaos that had unfolded that night. Just cold, gleaming steel, as though nothing had ever happened.

You stand there, staring at the knife, your pulse pounding in your ears. Every nerve in your body is on high alert, your instincts screaming at you that this is a warning – a sign. But of what?

Now, as the envelope crinkles in your hand, the strange thrill you thought would be gone forever – the one you had missed dearly – was starting to buzz under your skin again.

The blade is a reminder. It is an invitation. It is a promise of what’s to come.

He’s still out there.

[fattuccini-afraido]

Tim: I can't handle this. I need a cigarette.

Y/N: I knew that you would so I came prepared. Nicotine patches!

Y/N: You just put one on your shoulder an- Oh, stuck it right on your face, huh?.

Tim, sighing: I want it as close to my brain as possible.

Y/N: That's unsettling. Well, I think I know how to fix the problem .

Tim: That's good. I love you so much.

Y/N: I love you, too.

Y/N: Wait, you're talking to the nicotine, aren't you?

Tim:

Tim: I can love two things.

[nosyp]

Acquiescence

Warnings = Weird behaviour (what do u expect from a weird monster)

Pairing = Slenderman x reader

Summary = You find yourself being suffocated by another during your night walk around the forest. Slendy doesn't like that.

Word count = 314 words

A/N = Quick 314 words, not proofread, made in like a few mins omg i js wanted to write slendy.

Holy shitttt… someone is following you and you have no idea how to stop them. Slenderman always allowed you to do whatever as long as you came back at the end of the day but you had no idea how you were going to return now.

Fuck. Fuck. You could hear the footsteps behind you match your pace. When you went slow, they went slow and when you went faster, they would too. The sound of the leaves crunching that followed after yours was making it obvious there was another character in play.

“Can you stop following me?” you yell out, turning around rapidly just to be met with another person’s face. They were familiar, but you couldn’t quite figure out who it was.

“Aww… don’t you remember me?” they ask, but you have no clue who they were. They took a step closer towards you, but you didn’t move back. 

“Who are you…?” you interrogate with an apprehensive tone.

They let out a loud, disappointing sigh before looking back up at you to answer. “I’m [REDACTED]. Your friend from highschool? How could you not remember?”

Wait… what? You couldn’t catch their name, but from their tone, you knew they were nowhere near close to being friends with you. 

You just stood there— frozen. It was like your feet were stuck onto the ground and the soil grasped onto your legs so tightly. 

In a flash of a second— somehow— their hands were wrapped tightly around your throat, squeezing slightly.

“How could you, whore? We were the bestest of friends! I thought we had something,” their voice loudly remarked. Your vision was starting to blur, not allowing you to focus on them.

Then, the scene before you changed, and now it was them choking on the ground. You stood there, wide-eyed. It was Slenderman. He’s angry.

After, the world just turned black and faded.

[darkromanceenthusiast]

3 a.m. fights

Jeff the killer x GN! reader

Contains: angst, substance use, toxic relationship mentions, blurb

It was nights like this that reminded you that Jeff was… well… Jeff. You loved him so of course you had an idealized version in your head.

You shakily wiped the tears from your face and stood up, looking at the multiple shattered beer bottles on the ground, a chair that was thrown onto the coffee table and the door still open from not shutting with the force of how hard he slammed it storming out.

You walked towards the broom, taking comfort in knowing it could all be fixed… mostly.

Your mind drifts as you begin the monotonous motion of sweeping the floor, you tried to remember what set him off at the start… what made him explode… the drinking… he had started doing it more lately you tried to ‘jokingly’ say he was drinking a lot and well… this happened. Jeff was mentally ill. It’s always a bit easy to forget that when he’s sort of your only constant and contact.

The sound of the glass dumping in the bin pulled you back into pilot of your body, you looked at the cleanly swept floors and nodded, the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway pulled your attention, the lack of headlights could only mean Jeff, you tensed a bit and stayed there as he stood in the doorway.

“Hey… I uh.. got you something.” He says, motioning you to come closer, you walk up to him, arms crossing as you do. He stares at you for a moment before lifting something to your lips.

“Suck n breathe, babe.” He instructs, and you simply obey, a dank but slightly sweet taste fills your mouth as you inhale the vapor. He chuckles and places the small vape in your hand.

“A… cart,Jeff? Really?” You ask, eyebrow raising as the dark haired male shrugged.

“Well… I also wanted to take you on a drive… maybe.. talk.. and uhm… get some food?” He said, his tone was shockingly kind for once and you sighed, looking at the pen in your hands and shrugging as you took another hit.

“I suppose…” you said and he smiled, holding you his hand. You slipped yours in his and enjoyed the comfort of his warm, slightly calloused hand. You got into the passenger side and he started the car back up and began driving, he turned on the radio to some alternative station and sighed.

“I love you.” He said, and your head snapped over to him, his face was serious as he stared ahead, his carved grin a stark reminder of the facade he pushed. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I don’t… I don’t like doing that. I don’t like throwing things and storming out… but I’m so scared I’ll hurt you if I don’t break something.” He said, brows furrowing as he gripped the steering wheel, his hind coming over to rest on your thigh, you instinctively grip his hand and he sighs.

“I just… I need you to know I love you. I do. As much as I am capable of loving… you have it.” He says, his hand gripping yours, he leaned his head back for a second before lifting your hand to his lips, they press against your hand and you can feel the slightest hint of those scars on the back of your hand. He places your hand back on your thigh and resumes gripping your thing and you nod.

“I love you too, Jeff.” You said, gripping his hand, you’ve never seen him be this vulnerable, then again he almost never takes you on “dates” either. He gave a soft smile and lifted the pen to your lips, you took another hit and he nodded.

“Now… what do you want to eat?”

[seas1mping]

Candy Pop Redesign

General info:

He/it

7'11

He's OLD ASS MAN

DILF TOO

FATHER OF TWO, COUNT 'EM, TWO CHILDREN

He also has 3 wives, Tengen Uzui type shit, and just like Tengen they're all bad as hell

I love Candy Pop I would love to infodump about him but if I'm conscious any longer I will fall asleep at my desk

Someone ask me about him I will YAP like a motherfucker