#crp x reader

[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling various CRP pretty boy

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

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

Notes: reader is GN, written on mobile

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

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

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

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

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

MASKY

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

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

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

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

HOODIE

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

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

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

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

TICCI TOBY

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

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

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

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

EYELESS JACK

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

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

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

He may grow onto it with enough time

LAUGHING JACK

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

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

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

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

JEFF THE KILLER

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

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

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

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

[the-fr34k-enclosure]

General Eyeless Jack x Reader HCs (NSFT)

Heeeellllloooo hiiiii I want to make something clear because this is something that is bothering me; I have a hard boundary about ageless blogs interacting. I want to make it clear that I do in fact check who interacts and I will block on sight if you do not have your age indicated somewhere in your bio/pinned/carrd or carrd adjacent. I know I cannot stop one from interacting however I am asking that my wishes on this be respected- thank you!

Notes: reader is gn, no specified AGAB, written on mobile, this is scrambled all over the place, heavy on my personal hcs of how jack functions

Mentions of: biting/clawing/marking, blood, breeding, oral, temperature play if you squint

Oddly enough he's not too fond of biting- or anything that draws blood. I personally headcanon that he goes into a frenzy of sorts when feeding and occasionally- when the circumstances are right- drawing blood can trigger that

But when the conditions aren't right.... you might be able to convince him to take a taste out of you

Sharp teeth... very sharp teeth with claws to match- when he's going at it with you he can't help but scratch you up at least a little when gripping onto you

He tries to muffle his own noises by smothering his face into your neck and sinking his teeth into your skin... sometimes he pants right into your ear, though

Hes... cold... really cold, it almost leaves you in shock when you go bare against one another. The contrast is insane, but at least he keeps you cool during hotter moments!

Teeth be damned, he has one hell of a tongue. He's so so careful not to nick your more delicate parts. He WILL pin your legs down just so you don't squirm too much and cause a little accident

His tongue is long- not impossibly but it's definitely unnatural- and it's only slightly warmer than the rest of him

He's not interesting in kids but he does like leaning into the idea of filling you up- it's less about the reality and more about the fantasy

He thinks it comes from the more dark primal sides of himself- you just like to say he's a little freak

[alexiseatzbeez]

I'm Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket

Hiii !! This is my first time writing a creepypasta oneshot thing so that's fun. This is a ticci toby x reader thing that I thought about and wanted to write. It's also posted on my quotev (link at the end) where you can request other things for me to write !! Also this is my first time specifically writing for Toby so I know I probably missed some things, so if I ever write for him again I'm gonna be better about that. Ok onto this lol

It was the middle of December, and the snow was coming down steadily, matching the twinkle of the stars above. The frosty wind blew through your poor choice of clothes for the weather - a plain long sleeve shirt with jeans. You shivered as you mumbled to yourself, 

“Could’ve bundled up a little…”

There’s not much you can do now with a car low on gas and no one around to help, and being miles away from home didn’t help much either. 

The surrounding woods felt never-ending and did nothing to comfort you. The empty streets with old lamps flickered as you tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with your car. A feeling in your gut told you that something was wrong, so you tried to work quickly. You shakily sighed as you shivered, fiddling with the car's buttons and levers, inspecting the car’s old gas pump, slamming your fist on it a few times just to see if that would work. You muttered under your breath again, starting to become annoyed with the thing,

“Damned thing won’t work…”

A huff of frustration left your lips, watching as steam clouded in front of you, making you remember that you’d probably freeze to death if this stupid car wouldn’t start up again. Your aggravation was quickly replaced with a small gasp of surprise when an unfamiliar voice rang out behind you, 

“You know, you probably shouldn’t b-be out here at this time of night.”

You jumped as you heard the voice, snapping your head to turn and face where it came from. You were met with someone you’ve never seen before in your life. Behind you stood a man with shaggy, uncut brown hair and orange ski goggles pushed up to rest on the top of his head. He wore multiple layers, including a plain black hoodie with a brown coat over it with jeans that almost looked too big for him. He was pretty tall, but the main thing you noticed was the giant bandage on his cheek, wondering what would be under it. Something else that caught your eye was the way he was acting. He'd occasionally twitch his neck or mutter something that sounded like it came out involuntarily. 

He stood a couple of feet away from you, not moving. You kept your gaze on him, confused as to where this guy even came from knowing you were in the middle of nowhere. You cleared your throat before speaking, trying your best to keep your voice steady even though worry started to fill your body. 

“I-uh… I know that.”

You immediately felt like a dumbass the moment the words left your mouth, turning away from him to look at your car again before looking back at him. You could feel yourself shake, like it was getting colder, or you were just becoming more nervous, you couldn’t tell anymore. The man spoke again, his voice sounded gravelly, like he was trying to make it sound deeper than it was, but you couldn’t tell or care at this point. All you knew was that he freaked you out and you wanted him to leave you alone. 

“Doesn’t look like you do or you would’ve been somewhere safe by now.”

He scoffed at the end of the sentence, making a whistling noise before stepping closer to you until he stood right beside you. He seemed ok, but something in his tone and his body language set alarms off in your head, telling you to ditch the car and run. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about this guy. He spoke again, realizing you weren’t going to say anything, 

“Look, it’s freezing and you’re car doesn’t look like it’s gonna do anything anytime soon”

His gaze moved from her face, to her car, to her clothing, letting out a sigh as he smirked and scrunched his nose, furrowing his brows as he shook his head

“And what’s with the-the outfit, anyways? This your idea of winter attire?” 

He chuckled as he spoke, rolling his eyes as he pointed a long finger at your chest, judging your choice of clothing. He made you feel dumb, but being out this late in this weather wasn’t exactly your choice. You’d be long gone and at home in bed if you had the option. You could feel yourself tense up as he stood closer to you, keeping your gaze on his face to try and figure out what his intentions were. Beside you, he studied the car, pointing at the gas pump and commenting on how you were low on gas like you didn’t already know that. The whole thing made you wanna yell at him and tell him to leave you alone, instead, you took a breath and tried to keep your cool as you responded,

“I didn’t have a jacket, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m kinda supposed to be at home by now but this piece of shit car won’t work.”

You paused your rambling, realizing you were probably oversharing. This guy didn’t need to know why you were here, or what you were doing at the old gas station. He nodded as you spoke, even though his face displayed that he really didn’t seem to care about the situation. He kept his gaze at your car as he spoke again, his voice felt monotonous with a hint of cockiness,

“S-sounds rough. So you’re just gonna freeze your ass off here while you try and fix that thing? You must be crazy or just plain dumb.”

A smug smile grew on his lips as he twitched his neck again, making you take note that he also had a patchy looking beard growing, too. You began to grow frustrated, taking note of this guy's features just in case he did something. You began to feel more uneasy. What the hell is he still doing here? Go away. The man was surprised by your lack of response, he was obviously trying to get a reaction out of you and was disappointed when you didn’t give him one. He spoke up again, you desperately wished he’d just shut up, it was like he couldn’t stand the silence.

“Maybe that’s the universe telling you that you need to stop pushing your luck.” He gestured to the wilderness that surrounded them, pointing specifically at the forest near the gas station, "You're out here all alone and your easy prey for anything out there.” 

Furrowing your brows and squinting, you stared at whatever he was pointing at. Your brain felt like it was melting from what he had said. What a creepy ass thing to say. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The forest was creepy as hell and being alone at night in the middle of nowhere was never necessarily smart or safe for anyone. His words began to sink in, if anything, you were more afraid of him than anything in that forest right now. You huffed as you faced him, starting to lose your patience,

“Look, I don’t know where you came from or why you’re here, but I’d appreciate it if you helped me or just left me alone. I’ve had a shitty day and I’d just like to get my car working so I can go home.”

Once you finished speaking, you saw him frown a little in response. His eyes burned holes into your skull as he absorbed what you had said to him. Your stomach dropped, you fucked up. The world seemed to stand still, the eerie silence filling the freezing air between them. He said nothing at first, only staring down at you with a piercing gaze, sending a sharp shiver down your spine. The only thing that broke the silence was the bitter, howling wind. His voice felt louder as he spoke up again. His words sharp and targeted towards you, 

“You’re real mouthy, aren’t you?” his lips curved into a thin line, eyes narrow as they continued to burn into you, “I’d w-watch out with that if I were you.”

Your brain told you to run, leave the car and run somewhere, anywhere but here. You realized that was stupid as you took into account what was around you. Your eyes darted quickly, trying to look at everything but him. Dread filled your senses as you remembered that you were truly in the middle of nowhere. You looked back at him, trying to figure out what he was trying to do. Words uncontrollably spilled from your lips, you were desperate at this point, unable to control the shakiness in your voice, 

“Wh-what do you want from me?”

It felt like the man's goal was to just make you as uncomfortable as possible. He remained silent for a minute, watching you shift nervously in place, fiddling with your thin shirt sleeves as you desperately tried to stay calm, looking him in the eyes. This guy knew exactly how to get into your head, eyes narrowing as he stayed quiet, waiting for you to break. His neck jerked to the side before he spoke,

“Well, the way I see it, I could either help you get your car r-running, or I could leave you here for the wolves.”

You felt like your heart was going to burst from your chest right then and there. Was he threatening you? It wouldn’t be shocking at this point. You stayed silent for a moment, realizing you’d have to work with him if you ever wanted to make it back home. You cleared your throat, voice still shaky from a mix of being cold and absolutely terrified. You nodded as you held out your hand for him to shake,

“What’s uh- what’s your name?”

This was your genius way of trying to fix this strange situation and get on the guy's good side. His eyes narrowed as he looked at your shaking, ungloved hand. The smallest look of surprise filled his features before he grabbed onto her hand and gave it a shake. His grip was firm but thankfully not too tight. He smirked as he shook your hand, looking up to your eyes as he scrunched his nose, “Name’s Toby.” He paused before continuing, still holding firmly onto your hand, “Yours?”

You let go of his hand before responding very bluntly, “I’m y/n…” You purse your lips together before looking at your feet, you didn’t know where to even go from here. You stayed silent until you heard snow crunching under Toby’s boots as he walked to the front of your car, popping the hood up to inspect it. You stared at him as he stared blankly at the machine, he looked absolutely clueless. You knew you were already screwed, but this guy just seemed to be making it worse because he had absolutely no clue what he was doing. 

He placed a hand on his head, seeming perplexed as he studied the car. It didn’t take an expert to tell you that this guy was just as lost as you were when it came to fixing shitty broken down cars. The tension was thick and the air had taken on an unsettling aura, one that you’d only felt a handful of times before. You felt your heartbeat quicken as you tried to find a way to calm yourself as he tried to work on your car. The demeanor shifted completely. 

You decided to try and talk to him, thinking it may make you feel better. As he worked on the car, you noticed something shiny reflecting on his back. There sat a hatchet, strapped over his shoulder. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now that you could see it, you only felt more uneasy. Swallowing thickly, you spoke as you pointed to it, watching him snap his head in your direction, 

“What’s um- what’s with the hatchet? Are you a lumberjack or something?”

The question sounded stupid. You mentally smacked yourself on the forehead, a lumberjack? Really? He seemed amused by the question, chuckling as he looked at her and cocked his head to the side. The hatchet had barely been covered by his coat, taunting you to ask him about it even if you'd regret it in the end. You could practically hear the teasing and smirk in his voice without needing to even see it on his face, “A lumberjack?” 

After a small pause, he shrugged, his gaze returning to the vehicle as he spoke, “No, I’m not a lumberjack.”

The response made you furrow your brows in confusion. You knew the question sounded dumb, but what else could he be? Upon further inspection, you noticed how rusty the hatchet actually was. It looked old and like it was in need of a replacement soon. The silence was killing you, so you spoke up again. Your voice sounded off in the sharp, cold air, “So then,,, what are you, exactly?” 

This was as normal as this conversation could possibly get. They’d talk about what they do for work, he’d somehow fix the car, and then they could go their separate ways and never see each other again. Your question was getting closer and closer to the truth. The hatchet sat comfortably on Toby’s shoulder, like he was used to having it there, its rusty surface seeming to reflect the moonlight above. Toby gave you a sly grin as he looked over at you again, taking a few seconds to just stare before speaking, 

“Do you really w-want to know the answer to that question?” 

His tone felt like he was teasing you, implying that his answer was going to be something horrible, something you wouldn’t want to know. There didn’t even need to be a physical threat for you to feel uncomfortable again, your imagination filling in the blanks as to what he was trying to say. 

You paused, trying not to just snap right then and there. You felt your eye twitch as you took a deep breath in and out. Did you really wanna know? All you wanted to do was talk about what each of you did for work, not try to solve some random guy’s weird cryptic rhymes and codes. The anxiety was bubbling up inside you, you wished this guy could just say something normal for once. You nodded slowly, not able to find the words you wanted to say. 

Toby was clearly enjoying your reactions, continuing to grin and stare you down as you waited for his response. Eventually, he spoke again, the cocky smirk never leaving his face, “I guess I’m in the hunting business, I don’t really have a name for it.” 

You nodded in response to his answer, watching his neck twitch again as you tried your best to speak up and make this feel normal again. You took into account his whistling and twitching thing, deciding not to ask him about it since it was so hard to learn what his job was. Your voice sounded dry, “I’m uh- I work at a coffee shop.” 

He laughed at your response which made you scoff a little, why was that funny to him? You couldn’t understand why he was the way he was, you just hoped that your patience would reward you by getting your car fixed and getting the hell out of here. You turned away from him, looking at the gas station. It looked run down and abandoned. Sighing, you kept your gaze on the gas station, you were done talking to him. 

The air grew still as you felt a creeping sensation crawl up your spine. The sound of rustling and your car's hood slamming down caught your attention, causing you to jump in shock. Your head snapped towards him, a confused look on your face. Before you could even speak and ask why Toby did that, you noticed what he was now doing.

His movements started slow, reaching for the hatchet’s handle on his back, grabbing it and placing it in both hands with a firm grip. You felt your eyes widen as a pathetic noise left your throat as you tried to ask and beg to know what he was doing, staring at him as you felt yourself freeze, trying to stumble away,

“I’m bored, sorry it uh- sorry it had to go this way I guess. It- it was nice knowin’ ya, y/n.”

Toby spoke dryly, shrugging as he grabbed at your shoulder, yanking you closer to him as he raised the hatchet over his head with his other hand before it came swinging down towards you. Finally, a shrill scream ripped from your throat.

Here's the link to that quotev I mentioned also

[r0s3m4ry-mp3]

HELP ME AND @vampghoul MADE LIKE CREEPYPASTA FAKE TWITTER POSTS AND IM LITERALLY CRYING RN

CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY OR WHATEVER

I stand by that some the older creepypastas probably barely know how to use twitter and cant change their pfp💔❗❗

[junabuggy]

Hello! I saw your Toby headcanons, and as a Toby fan, I'd love some platonic Toby headcanons, if that's possible? Just kinda wanna see how he'd act with a friend that gets him, y'know? Thank you so much ^0^

𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 !!

𝘈/𝘯: ofc !! I loooove writing for Toby hehe

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: None :*:·\(￣▽￣)/·:*·°★*

──★ ˙ ̟ 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨??

☆• Honestly it'd probably take a while to actually befriend good 'ol Toby, but it's very worth it once you do !!

☆• Chaotic, but fun (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

☆• After missions he practically busts down your door and makes himself comfortable in your bed, yapping about his day and what happened during his mission for a while before deciding to watch random YouTube videos on your TV... Yeah, safe to say he's comfortable with you.

☆• Naturally, sleepovers happen a lot because he'll end up falling asleep

☆• BUT !1!!! If it's a planned one he's pulling all nighters with you (๑·̀ㅁ·́๑)✧

☆• Would find the silly 2010 quotev quizzes and tests funny, def engages in them with you

☆• Takes a "Which creepypasta character is your boyfriend?" one and gets himself 😭😭

☆• Deep talks late at night just about life and what he can remember from before.. only time he ever really does open up (even if he's still somewhat vague about certain stuff)

☆• INSIDE JOKES. He's a sucker for those

☆• Yes, the other pastas look at you two funny when he says a random word and you burst out into a fit of giggles, him trying (and failing) to hold back his own

☆• You guys have a secret and way too complex handshake you never fail to greet each other with

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 1

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Waah idk why I'm so nervous to post this part T~T 🖤🖤 I really hope you enjoy! And it would make me super happy if you lmk what you think!! 🖤🖤

Commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Prologue

Divider by @plum98

The scream is loud.

It’s shrill and abrasive, and it ends as quickly as it began—like the person’s breath was abruptly interrupted.

You bolt up. The sound awakens a deep, primal urge within you, and in a matter of seconds, you’re on high alert.

The fact that you’re home alone really only makes the whole situation that much worse.

You count the seconds ever so slowly ticking by. You don’t dare to move an inch. You just hold your breath, waiting, listening to the sound of your own heartbeat in your eardrums.

When you reach 100 and there isn’t another piercing scream, only then does your body recover from the freeze instinct. You move to the windows, try to see something—anything outside.

When nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, you nervously chew at your lip. Did you just imagine it? You don’t see anyone outside; no worried onlookers trying to find the source of the noise, no frantic person wandering the streets for help, nothing.

What are the chances only you would’ve heard it?

The scream replays itself in your head. It sounded like it could’ve come from your downstairs neighbor.

You’re probably the closest person in the vicinity, you realize. If they need help, you might be the only person who could assist them.

You grab your phone and rush out the door. Down the steps, you reach your neighbor’s door and offer three quick knocks against the wood.

You wait, nervously, anxiously, every second ticking by feeling much too long for comfort. When there’s no answer, you knock again. The memory of the scream rings in your ears again, and you feel your hands get sweaty with stress.

No one answers the door. You check your phone, calculate that at least seven minutes have gone by. Would it be appropriate to call the cops?

You open the phone app, then hesitate. Would they even take you seriously? You never once called the police in your life, and just thinking about it has you conjuring up a whole slew of ways it could go wrong.

You linger around the door for a few more minutes, then eventually give up and return up to your apartment. Your plan is to call your parents or roommate or maybe even your friend—anyone who might be able to advise you on what to do. But as soon as you reach your door, you get an eerie chill up your spine. Something isn’t right.

Your door is open.

It’s just a crack; barely even noticeable, and though you did leave in a rush, you’re fairly certain you didn’t leave the door open. It’s not something you would do.

You clutch your phone between tense fingers. Calling for help—even though it should be—is no longer on your mind. All you’re thinking about is who the fuck is in your home right now—and why.

It’s, again, like a fight, flight or freeze instinct kicking in. Except this time, your usual sense of self-preservation is overridden and you’re fully ready to fight.

You open the door, half expecting to see someone in the middle of your living room, but there’s no one there. Relief nearly washes over you, until you glance down and notice a trail of dirt leading deeper into your house.

Seeing it suddenly makes it all the more real.

There’s really someone here. There’s a stranger in your house.

As quietly as humanly possible, you follow along the trail. You’re so focused that your surroundings almost seem to melt away. When you see it; the silhouette of a person you don’t recognize, who doesn’t belong here, in your house, you act without second thought.

One hard hit to the back of the head is all it takes. The person crumples to the floor on impact. You gasp, the sound completely involuntary because holy shit—did that just happen?

Suddenly remembering your phone, you yank it up and dial 911.

The person seems to be knocked out cold, and as the line is ringing, you realize your hand hurts from hitting them so hard. A wave of fear tightens in your chest. Surely, you didn’t severely injure them, right? Surely, they’re just knocked out for a little while, and then they’ll wake up, and they’ll be fine, and you won’t get into any trouble, right?

It all counts as self-defense anyways, right?

Having never called the cops before, you don’t think much of the wait time. Your mind is so preoccupied with what you’ve done, with what’s happened in such a short amount of time, that you don’t even realize how long you’re waiting for.

But then you start to get nervous that the intruder will wake up. Or, worse, that they won’t wake up. The line is still ringing, and when you bring your phone down to check how long it’s been, you find that over five minutes have passed.

What the fuck is going on?

You can only stand to wait a few more minutes before you realize no one’s going to answer.

Maybe something’s down with the lines, or some other big emergency happened elsewhere and they don’t have the staff required to answer. Whatever it is, you’re on your own right now.

You hang up, tell yourself you’ll call back in a few minutes, and then you’re left staring at the knocked-out body of the intruder.

Judging by the shape and size of the figure, they seem to be male. They’re relatively tall and lean, with a square kind of build that tapers down at their hips. You can’t see their face, but they have thick, curly brown hair that reaches below their ears.

You should flip them over, you think. You should flip them over and take a picture of their face so that you have some kind of proof.

You kneel down, wrap your fingers around their form, and, as gently as you can so as to not wake them, you turn them over.

Your stomach drops at the sight. You can’t see their face since it’s hidden beneath orange-tilted goggles and some kind of mouthguard. But it’s what you see on their clothes that has you feeling light-headed.

Blood.

They’re covered in it.

It’s splattered along the front of their hoody, staining the fabric in a dark crimson color. You can’t tell if it’s theirs or someone else’s, and though all logic points to the former, you don’t even want to piece everything together.

You notice as well, now that they’re turned over, that they have a belt tied around their hips. And two blood-soaked axes are hanging from it.

You nearly scream, but the bile threatening to rise up your throat has you holding it all in. And you’re thankful for it, because god knows you don’t want them to wake up now.

If you weren’t high on adrenaline, you’re certain you’d be panicking—more so than you are now, at least. But it’s like your senses are heightened, and your thoughts are much clearer than they otherwise would be, and something inside you is forcing you to stay as calm as possible.

Secure them.

You need to find something to secure them before they wake up.

The best thing you can find on such short notice is a long-sleeved shirt you’d haphazardly left in the living room. You’d meant to put it away, but you hadn’t gotten to it yet—and you’ve never been so thankful for your laziness.

Your hands are shaking as you wrap the sleeves around the stranger’s wrists. You try to make it as tight as possible, and then you knot it over and over again until you’ve no more fabric left to tighten.

You’re grabbing your phone and dialing 911 again as soon as you can. But when you bring it up to your ear, the line doesn’t ring. You wait—fifteen seconds, thirty, a minute—expecting the ringing to start at any moment, but it doesn’t.

On the other end of the line, there’s just silence. Eerie, cold, dead silence. The ends of your hair stand at attention from the goosebumps rising on your skin. Something’s definitely not right.

Just as you’re about to hang up—static blares from your phone. It’s loud and unbearable and completely overpowering, like the sound is ringing inside your own head. It's impossible to think straight.

You scream, throwing your phone to stop the noise. But even with the phone away from your ears, it’s like the noise keeps echoing in your mind. All you can do is press your hands to your ears and squeeze your eyes shut and scream in agony.

It’s dizzying. It’s nauseating. You have no space to think, no space to do anything but clutch your ears and pray the noise will stop. It’s maddening.

You feel like you’re on the verge of passing out from the sheer pain and intensity of it all when, in an instant, it stops.

You don’t pull your hands away from your ears for a good few seconds afterward. Your heart is pumping loudly in your chest. Your jaw hurts from grinding your teeth. Every muscle in your body feels sore from overexertion.

What just happened—are you losing your mind?

Slowly, you hesitantly let go of your head and open your eyes.

He’s awake.

You don’t know if it was your screaming that woke him up—all you know is that he’s conscious, and he's sitting upright and looking at you.

A mix of emotions wash over you at once. You’re relieved he’s alive, confused as to what the hell just happened—and most of all—you’re fucking nauseous with fear.

Fear regarding the source of that noise, but also regarding the fact that there’s a stranger in your house, covered in blood, and the cops aren’t answering. There’s something wrong with your phone, you're home alone, and your neighbor might be bleeding out beneath the floor under your feet. And there's a stranger restrained in your house and you have no idea what the fuck to do.

The worst part is that the person—that man—looks like he's completely calm and at ease. Like he's in total control of the situation.

The nausea worsens, butterflies making you utterly sick to your stomach. It almost feels like you're the one restrained, not him.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

You stare at him, and he stares back. Or, at least, you think he does; it’s hard to tell beneath his colored lenses.

Your gaze flickers to the hatchets, still secured around his waist. You kick yourself for not taking them off of him. And then you look at your phone, which you threw halfway between you and him, and you swallow back the lump in your throat.

When you look back at him, you notice that he’d followed your gaze to also look at your phone. He looks back at you, tilts his head, and your stomach twists in knots.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

You feel like you’ve accidentally trapped some kind of predatory animal in your apartment. It feels like, at any moment, if you make the wrong move, he’ll lunge at you and rip your throat out.

Never once breaking eye contact, you slowly creep forward to reach your phone.

He doesn’t say a single word as you move, which makes it all the worse. He merely watches you, curiously, like you're one of the most fascinating things he's ever seen.

When you finally reach your phone, you pick it up, open it, and dial 911 again.

You’re hesitant to press it to your ears. You don’t know what kind of malfunction happened earlier, but you’re not too keen on repeating the experience. You hold it at somewhat of a distance, just in case.

It doesn’t ring.

Just like earlier, all that comes through the line is dead silence. You wait maybe a minute before, out of fear of the static interrupting again, you close the line.

You try not to let your panic show through, because you can feel the stranger eyeing your every move. You dial your roommate’s number, but it’s the same problem.

With unsteady hands, you text your parents that you need help contacting 911. Although they don’t live close to you anymore, they’re usually the fastest to answer your texts. And you need help fast.

When they don’t answer, you text your roommate and friends the same thing. Surely, at least one of them is bound to see the text and help you—right?

“You can—you can try all you want. You won’t be able to reach anyone, a-anyways.”

Your blood freezes.

It takes you a second to register his words, and another to react.

“What… what do you mean?” you ask, though the words make your tongue go numb, as if your body’s warning you that just talking to him is a bad idea.

“He’s watching.”

In the culmination of your entire lifetime, you don’t recall having ever felt such pure, tangible fear.

The feeling is similar to that sensation you get when you’re at the peak of a nightmare—when you’re just about to come face-to-face with the monster, or when you’re about to reach the ground after falling from a great height—when you’re just about to die and it all feels so real.

But this moment feels surreal.

“Who’s watching?”

There’s more conviction in your voice than you feel in your entire system. You don’t know how you manage to sound so calm, so self-assured and in control of the situation, but it’s certainly not how you feel on the inside.

“He is. The one who’s—“ he cracks his neck abruptly to the side, interrupting his own sentence before finishing, “always watching.”

Another chill up your spine, though you manage to mask it fairly well, all things considered.

“Don’t—don’t worry. The police will be here—here—they’ll be here soon. Maybe 15, 20 minutes?”

You don’t know whether you should be relieved or unnerved by his reassurance.

“How… do you know that?” you ask hesitantly.

He shrugs, the movement entirely too comfortable, entirely too nonchalant.

“S-s’almost always the same.”

You want out. You want out of this conversation, out of this whole situation. You want him out of your house.

“What do you mean?” you ask, “How many times have you done this?”

You don’t know if you want the answer to your own question. In all honesty, you don’t even want to consider what the “this” in your question even refers to.

But it’s out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself.

He tilts his head, like he’s considering it. And then, after a few seconds, he shrugs again.

“Lost count.”

You don’t like his answer.

15-20 minutes, you think. There’s a chance he's lying to put you at ease, to prevent you from calling again.

But there’s a chance he’s right.

There’s a chance a neighbor heard, or your friends or family saw the text and are getting help. Either way, you realize that you have time to burn. You need to stay calm, focused.

He doesn’t seem agitated, which you take to be a good thing. He doesn’t seem frustrated or angry or unstable. If anything, it’s like he’s open to talking.

What more could you ask for?

You rack your brain for the best course of action. But you’re at a loss. You’re panicking on the inside.

You realize that one of the best things you could probably do is keep him preoccupied, keep him distracted.

“…How old are you?”

You don’t know why that, of all things, is the first question to come to mind. But it seems like a safe enough bet; it’s not too personal so as to upset him, and yet it might help narrow his identity or motivations down.

If only you’d had the chance to remove his mask and snap a pic of his face before he woke up.

You don’t expect him to take as long to answer as he does. He tilts his head again, looks up like he’s trying to calculate something in his head.

And then his answer sends another wave of unease through your system.

“Lost count,” he admits, repeating his previous answer.

You don’t know what that means, what it entails, but you don't even want to know either, at this point.

You rack your brain for another question, something light and easy to keep him talking, when he suddenly jerks his shoulder in a way that doesn’t look entirely voluntary.

You pause.

Did he... did he consume something?

It would explain a few things, though not everything.

He seems coherent enough to hold a conversation, but it’s not like he’s making the most sense. And, at the very least, blaming the strangeness of this whole situation on something simple would make you feel better.

To test out your theory, you ask him outright, “Why are you here? Do you know where you are?”

He looks around, like he’s only now noticing he’s in your apartment.

“This the—the—the upstairs unit? Your place?”

You nod, slowly, but even as you do, you’re not sure you want him to know that. And then you also don’t want to know the answer to the next question, but you need to ask.

“What happened?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his response. The way he states it too—so simply, so obviously, like it was as normal as going for groceries—makes you completely sick to your stomach.

And the magnitude of the situation fully crashes down on you when he answers.

“I killed her.”

[sootrootdoot]

continuation below!! (its almost 5 am i didnt color fancy the rest of the panels lol)

once again smile is the most successful proxy in da palace. she is prom queen.

[seireitonin]

Dating Toby?? Like is he clingy, jealous or protective of his partner??

(I don't know....this is my first time doing these things.....)

Toby brain rot :3 this is how I see Toby mixed with some canon information! (I’m gonna try to keep it realistic)

What would it be like dating Toby?

Toby’s life is filled with tragedy

Abuse, death, murder, mental illnesses, being a slave to Slenderman

It’s all bad

So when he finds you, someone that accepts him and loves him despite all that, he’s not letting you go

He’ll do anything for you

I mean to the point it’s unhealthy

Because hes obsessed with you

Like really obsessed with you

He’s super touchy, not only because he likes to feel close to you, but it keeps him grounded

That’s important to him because his disorders/ mental illnesses cause him to hallucinate or space out

He’s not gloomy he’s actually upbeat but when he remembers something from his past or the current state of his life he goes through episodes of depression and mood swings

They can get really intense and as you’re with him you’ll learn how to support him through it

Just laying with him, making sure he has water and reminding him you’re here for him will help lots and lots of physical affection

If his mood swings get violent he’ll isolate himself from you but it’s heartbreaking to hear his suffering

His swings can go from extreme anger to intense sadness to reckless happiness

Since he hasn’t had much kindness or interaction in his life he doesn’t have the best social skills

He’ll say whatever is on his mind with no filter and that includes you too

So he’ll say mean things unintentionally a lot because he doesn’t understand how what he says can be hurtful

And he might try to call you sensitive for it too

“Ugh you’re overreacting I didn’t even say anything that hurtful. It’s just what’s on my mind”

He literally doesn’t understand how it can make you feel because he’s a bit detached with emotions

It’s gonna take a while for him to understand but he loves you so he’ll try to understand for your sake and will work on apologizing

He can also just be rude or a jerk sometimes in general

Toby likes just spending time with you to the point where you’re connected at the hip

He won’t say he loves you with words but he says it with his actions

He brings you gifts, holds your hand, goes on walks with you, holds you and try’s to be better for you (even though it’s really hard because he’s set in his ways)

He talks a lot so sometimes you’ll just listen and smile

Since he can’t feel pain, when he gets back from missions you’ll have to help him check for injuries to make sure he’s okay

He doesn’t say it but he appreciates it

Sometimes he’ll just stare at you because he loves you so much, taking in your every detail

He notices everything about you, from your body language, how you tan in the summer and lighten in the winter, he even knows how many times you breathe in a minute

Toby eats a lot of instant ramen so be prepared to eat a lot of that at first but you start to cook for him because he needs to eat better

Toby never expected to have a girlfriend since he’s a lot to handle but he liked the way you handle him

He’s full of himself literally thinks he’s gods gift to earth so sometimes he puts himself before your relationship but he’s trying to change that

He’s really funny especially if you like dark humor

He’s a jealous man. You’re his no one else’s

If someone even looks at you romantically he’ll go crazy on them

Remember, Toby is still a murderer and enjoys murdering

Chasing them down and threatening them and if it escalated kill them with a smile

He does it all for you. Everything is for you.

“You know I love you, right?”

He looks at you covered in blood

Toby likes it when you wear his sweaters

He wants a family one day and hopes you can give that to him

He’s possessive over you but does it out of intense love and obsession

He wants to keep you safe by any means necessary because he’s so used to losing the people he loves and he really doesn’t wanna lose you

Toby drives a pickup truck and likes to drive you around in it

He likes to sit in the back of it with you and look at the stars in an open field

Since Toby’s older his tics have calmed down but they’re still there and he still has the occasional tic attack

You’ll have to help him through those because sometimes he can’t even talk when he’s having one

Stuff he can squeeze, ice pack on his forehead and making sure he doesn’t hurt himself

He’s happy you don’t see him as a burden like everyone else did

He’s never letting you go

He didn’t know he could feel love this intense

[totheseus]

TIM WRIGHT SENSE HEADCANONS

ft. Tim (Masky) Wright

Coffee stained teeth.

Jacket reeks of cigarette smoke.

Speaking of his jacket, probably contains small trinkets like can tabs in the pockets.

Really just smells like black coffee all around.

Super calloused hands.

Kinda rough skin.

Slight stubble, aside from the sideburns.

Smells like old leather and sweat, too.

Really warm. Walking heating unit.

Oddly, really nice eyelashes.

Moles for days.

Stubby nails.

Very self indulgent. I love old man stink.

[bunnylove369]

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚎𝚝𝚌..

⚠️𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙽𝙸⚠️

𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚞𝚝

--------------------------------------------

Masky and Tim are two completely different people, so it can be quite confusing and/or scary when they switch from one to the other, often without any obvious triggers.

Masky is into bondage and bdsm (don’t ask why, I just think he is) he loves to see you writhe underneath him, with nowhere to go because you are tied up, at the mercy of him. Also, he ties you up like he does his victims.

He will have left bruises all over your body by the time you guys are done fucking. It will look like you got into a fight with a grizzly bear with all the scratch marks, bruises, cute, etc..

Masky loves cockwarming. I can’t explain why either, he just loves the feeling of your tight heat spasming and clenching around his cock as you try your best not to move because you need that friction so bad.

He also loves to make you run through the woods as he chases you. He loves that feeling of adrenaline involved in hunting and chasing you down like an animal. He can’t wait to find you because that’s when the fun starts ;)

He calls you pet names like sweetheart, doll, doll baby, princess, mouse, etc.. he thinks these nicknames all suit you so well. He is very proud of himself that he came up with these.

Masky likes to take a shower with you. He loves to fuck you against the shower wall as you cry out his name. It’s just something about it that’s just so chef’s kiss.

He also wants to have a threesome with hoodie. Listen, I don’t make the rules here, I just write.

Before you say anything about it, yes he does shotgun his smoke (whether it be cigarette smoke or weed) into your mouth and watch you inhale and exhale it. He thinks it’s so hot (it is).

He needs to be touching you at all times. He can’t let his little love be anywhere near harm (or anything for that matter) that he isn’t in complete control of.

He likes to fuck you until you cry. Whether that be in missionary, doggystyle, or you riding him, he needs to overstimulate you until those pretty tears stream down your cheeks.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Leaving lipstick marks on various CRPS 1/2

this is probably going to change because queue stuff but i might not write the second part of this with the other characters i write for unless theres a demand for it- brains going crazy but not for writing rn hisshiss characters: slenderman, splendorman, masky, hoodie, ticci toby notes: reader is GN and wears makeup CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

if you can get him to bend down so you can actually reach his face, he lets you pepper his face for as long as you want... assuming he doesnt have anything else that needs to be done

ive mentioned before that physical affection isnt something that slenderman does often, at least in terms of giving... but hes not going to stop you from showing your love for him however you like

if you can catch it, you can see the faintest raise in his cheekbones- hes smiling!

may lightly press where his mouth would be against your own mouth in his own gesture- even though he doesnt do this sort of thing often he knows its important to you... so he at least occasionally returns the favor!

the lipstick marks on his face dont tent to remain on his face for that long, though...

SPLENDORMAN

loooooooves when you kiss all over his face, loves getting affection from you in general

soft chuckles and giggles as you cover his face in lipstick marks, hes trying so hard to remain still for you so the marks dont smudge too bad

keeps the marks on his face for a while, usually until he needs to go interact with someone who isnt you... not that he wants to hide your relationship or anything like that- he wants to keep appearances is all!

will kiss all over you in return, even though he doesnt really wear makeup

you can sometimes hear the bells on his tentacles chime as you hold his face

MASKY

the best youre going to get is kissing on his mask, he... doesnt like taking his mask off around other people.. including you... actually now that you think about it youre not sure if he takes it off even when hes alone

very still when getting kisses from you, its almost a little unnerving how still he is during the entire exchange

sometimes your lipstick leaves stains on his mask so sometimes he may deny you if youre wearing any makeup

not really anything mean against you... he just doesnt want random splotches on the material... you may be able to convince him to take it off so you can clean it for him

will occasionally nuzzle his face against your cheek after you kiss him all over

HOODIE

hes still like masky, but hes more likely to snake his arms around your waist to pull you even closer to him

his mask is made of a fabric so kissing it kind of... feels off.. on top of that you cant see the marks left behind that well due to it being black

though... hoodie may feel inclined to lift his mask up just enough for you to kiss on his actual face- he only ever pulls it up high enough to see the bottom of his nose

sometimes forgets to wash the marks off so when you see him lift his mask up to eat something you just see color splotches all over his skin

grinning the entire time youre kissing him

TICCI TOBY

takes his little mouth cover off for you so you have more skin to kiss, though this only really happens later on in the relationship when you two are closer... hes not exactly ashamed of his cheek scar however he knows it may... put you off..

takes a while for him to warm up to physical affection although he wants it so bad, give him some time and hes going to welcome you with open arms when you want to leave your marks all over his face

literally... hes going to wrap his arms around you and pick you up- if youre close enough to a bed or couch hes going to fall back

typically turns into a bit of a cuddle session as well

sometimes hates that your makeup can leave patches of color, but he loves the attention more than he hates the cleanup

[the-fr34k-enclosure]

Laughing Jack x Chubby!Reader (NSFW)

I really. Want a smoothie rn. Grr

Notes: reader is gn but no assigned AGAB, written on mobile

Request: ✅️

Additional stuff: mentions of marking, mentions of breeding, biting, oral

Love love loves your curves, very handsy feely with you. He adores running his hands along you in general, but especially during intimacy

Always has a hand on you- usually squishing your thigh in one of his massive hands... coin toss on whether or not he leaves scratches- its... hard to tell if he's into marking or if he's gotten too into it

He does bite you though, and if you let him he would leave hickeys all over you... he likes how you feel in his mouth!

He... honestly prefers a plus sized person compared to a skinny person- there's more to love in his eyes

Also sometimes says you're built fertile- he does not elaborate but he does offer to show you

Worships you, he's not the smoothest when it comes to flirting or flattery but God does he try- and that makes him seem more earnest

Will point out every part of you and either kiss it or go on about how attractive he thinks it is- sometimes rambles between kisses

Keeps it up even as he's treating you to oral, it sometimes pushes off your release but he can't just keep his words to himself!

[jazjelspen]

ex-girlfriend

jeff the killer x fem! reader

(you've dated Jeff the Killer since high school and have known him for longer. You stayed even after he became who he is now.. but what if you became stronger than him? what if you became a completely new person entirely? and left your heavy-hearted killer boyfriend to rot?)

(notes: took inspo from fanon Jeff but also tried to write him into his own person of course :) will try to be realistic when it calls for it + took some creative liberties in certain aspects too. I also apologize if the characterization of Jeff and others isn't super fitting.. I'm still getting used to how I want to express them and construct them as characters and the world around them.)

(CAUTION!!!: includes dark/serious themes, mention of murder/death, use of cannab1s, slight implications of s3x, toxic relationships, physical abu$3, possible ooc(?) )

(NOT PROOFREAD)

[part 1/2]

you and jeff are a killer duo.

seriously and figuratively.

you two have always been attracted to each other, a connection you two couldn't see but you both knew it was there.

the older and closer you two got, the more you two realized you had more in common than you two initially assumed..

way, wayyy more in common.

but to skip a long origin story short, let me give you some details on how you and Jeff suddenly got separated in the way that you did.

you see, you and Jeff resided at the Slender Mansion.. mostly just to get Slender off your backs due to you guys finding solidarity and a sense of safety in the deep dark forests, far away from home. it kept you two safe from police, as well as anyone or anything else that could be a threat.

of course, the specific area you went into was territory of the thin and tall boss of the forests.. and you would've been dead meat if you two didn't create a sort of alliance with the deity, not exactly proxies yet you two still had to trade something in return for your lives.. the lives and bodies of others seemed to quell Slenderman's hunger quite well.

nonetheless, tonight was one of those nights in which you and Jeff had to find more lives to take, blood to shed.

this night was different though, as Jeff was currently stuck in your shared room after going through a minor operation at the hands of Eyeless Jack, another being that came and left as he pleased.

"You think he'll recover quick?" You perked up as you watched EJ sew in the last stitch in a cut that reopened earlier as he was helping Jeff into your room, cutting up the thread before standing back as you two stared at your injured boyfriend from beside the bed he laid on.

"Not as quick as you may think," spoke EJ, his calm, raspy, and slightly demonic voice sounding monotone as he isn't intending to comfort you in the slightest but just to inform you. "Slenderman's healing properties can only work so fast, the rest depends on his own body's will to repair itself."

"Makes sense, with how much the victim fought back and the cops almost got him by a hair.. " you let out a huff through your nose before crossing your arms over your chest and shook your head slightly. "It has never gotten this bad before..." You murmured before moving away to open the door for EJ to find his way out. "I know you don't usually accept 'thank you's but, thanks. I owe you one for saving his ass."

"Hm." hummed the blue masked being. He may have the form of a human, and sound like one to a certain extent.. but he doesn't have the feelings of one for all you knew. "I'm sure you know how to stitch him up again if another injury reopens, I won't be here the rest of the week as I'll be doing my own business elsewhere."

"Got it.." You opened the creaky wooden oak door to let him through, and he left just as fast as he came in.

Closing the door behind you and letting go of the rusty brass door knob, you sighed in exhaustion.

"Yknow, you've been awfully quiet--"

"Shut the fuck up or I'm going to slice your throat."

Your shoulders dropped as soon as you heard Jeff's empty threat escape his throat. You walked closer to him, your shoes making small thuds and the wooden floors creaking beneath your feet.

"There you are." you cooed, finally hearing him talk after being silent the entire time.. incredibly out of character for him yet you were sure the shame of getting as injured as he is now and having to be 'taken care of' definitely got to him. "I almost started missing you."

"Get my knife, get the rest of your shit, and let's move.. we have people to kill for fucks sake.." Jeff's hoarse voice cracked even further as he attempted to sit up yet the pain coming from his abdomen only caused his nerves his fire up, making him fall back onto the moldy mattress yelping in pain. "You're absolutely stupid for even thinking you're able to go out tonight Jeff." You proceeded to sit on the empty side of the bed beside him, your hand slowly reaching over to gently caress his brutally cut up cheek yet your lover only harshly smacked it away with the back of his own hand. "So.. you're telling me you're going to ignore what I fucking telling you to do?" Jeff groveled and huffed in irritation, if he wasn't so incapacitated he'd probably be pulling you by your arm or hair to get you to do what he told you. "Since when have you gotten so brave, doll?"

"Since I followed you and helped you kill your own family that night." You pulled your hand away, reminiscing the night when your Jeff turned into who he is now.

You remembered how much your heart swelled when you saw him covered in his family's blood, his fresh cut up smile and red inflamed burns across his body and face. You continued to love him just as much as you did before he became so disfigured.

He was your religion, and you followed him in devotion.

"Now, we still have to keep our deal with the big boss right? I'll do your kills for the night, then when your better tomorrow we'll finish up whatever else we have to do.. or hell we can just kill for fun to make it up to you, " you hopped off the bed as you spoke and walked over to a wooden rotting vanity in the corner of your room, with drawers that were unable to close and doors that were hanging by their hinges. Your hand reached over to get an empty crunched up ziplock bag and continued on to walk back to your boyfriend with the object in your hand. "What do you say? I'll even get you some of the good stuff to make you feel better." you spoke lovingly, your hand with the bag grazing over his misshapen nose as he inhaled it deeply with a faint sense of delight. It still lingered the smell of his favorite thing to smoke and get high off of.. aside from your kisses and affection of course.

"Fuck that smells good.." he mumbled before his beady black eyes then suddenly shot up at you with this look of angry hesitation. "This is the only damn time I'm ever letting you out of my sight, make it quick, come back, and if you take a fucking second too long I'll get up and drag you back by your hair myself, got it gorgeous?.."

"You won't even have to bother Jeff." you bent over slightly to give him a quick peck on the lips, but just as much as he was addicted to the green he was also addicted to your warmth, your lips, your presence and self.

You couldn't help but have to suddenly sustain your own body weight by resting an arm beside Jeff's head as his own uninjured arm went to grab you by the back of your head to pull you closer in a deeper, much more passionate kiss.

Hearts beating aggressively in a dark passion that was just as fiery and scarlet as the blood you two would spill on the daily, the faint smell of dried blood, mud, and rubbing alcohol reeked as you two struggled to inhale air with your noises clashing against each other, his aggressive and hungry kisses tasting of iron but also of old cigarettes and booze.

Normally this would disgust any one else that wasn't you, but you liked the way he smelled, how he tasted.. it reassured you that this was in fact Jeff, your Jeff.

Eventually, he would finally let you go by harshly pushing you away in order to break the kiss. He knew that if you stayed any longer he was gonna want you all to himself for the rest of the night, as close to him as you physically could.

"Get out of here and get back, ______. Don't make me wait longer than I have to."

You smiled at him, a sweet and sinister little smile that would somehow always get him hard every time you did it.

"You've got nothing to worry about."

two weeks.

two weeks passed since you disappeared that night.

Jeff recovered the night after you left, but you could imagine the absolute horror and rage he felt when he realized you never came back later that night.

With other residents also living in the mansion, residents with personalities and have bits of humanity left similar to Jeff, you can also imagine the slight wave of rumors to those that knew or noticed the two of you in your years in the mansion. Some say you made a deal with Slender and got to leave, others say that you got kidnapped, that you got brainwashed, caught by police, sacrificed to another higher being, stuck in an asylum or- simply that you died. There were endless possibilities but they all ended the same:

you hung Jeff dry, left his grasp and simply didn't come back.

Jeff would obviously try to get in contact with Slenderman as to know your condition, since he knew that the deity had the consciousness and psyches of every being or person he's made some kind of contact with in his hands.

Although he had to go through one, two, three of Slender's proxies, just to have a word with him somehow.. He would eventually get a word from the big boss through one of his more well known lackeys.

"She's fine, Jeffery. She isn't dead, she hasn't made any deals with him, and she isn't injured to death or whatever." the annoyed and exasperated voice of Masky would echo in the empty halls that the pair stood in, the arms of the mustard-yellow colored jacket would fold over his chest while also being in a sort of stance that expressed the fact that he simply just didn't want to be there.

"Then why the hell is she not back?? Does he know where she could be? If she was kidnapped? If she got arrested or put in a fucking ward?" Jeff yelled in an almost desperate sort of tone yet he would never admit it openly.

"Look, I don't fucking care whether she's alive, dead, stuck in a fucking hole or hell! if she's sucking some other guy's dick that isn't yours! But all I know that is that if she left on purpose he would've already had me or one of the others to get her back, but he hasn't so maybe she's nearby or some shit like that."

Anyone around could see that Jeff was on the verge of reaching over for his knife and cut Masky in half, yet he knew better than to do that to him of all people. "Does he at least know where she is?? I'll get her myself if I have to just give me a fucking address, some place to know where she could be!.."

If Masky wasn't wearing a mask, he'd probably be rolling his eyes to oblivion, irritated beyond belief at something like this even being a problem. "No. But as I already fucking said, if he isn't asking one of us to chase her down and get her back then you shouldn't have to overreact the way you are right now." the proxy proceeded to brush past him without a care, but said one last small thing before he left Jeff's vicinity completely.

"By the way, stop bothering the other proxies about this as we could care less about your girlfriend, just get a new one and fuck off!"

Jeff stood there, trembling in an anger he hasn't felt since the day he attacked his bullies and his brother took the blame for it.

He wasn't exactly reassured, but he also knew that he was very limited and there wasn't much he could do.

But he was restless, so you bet your ass he was going to go look for you even if it was just stalking the streets and killing anyone in his wake.

luckily for him, his waiting would end soon enough.

the week after that, he'd get the news of his life.

he'd been killing all week, killing innocents as he usually did but at a quicker and animalistic pace, he would almost get caught this time by the cops yet again but before his spree could continue he received some news thanks to that cheeky voice that would speak to him through the screens.

he would come back to the mansion, battered and bruised beyond belief. the calluses on his hands split and bled, cuts everywhere all old and fresh, he was ruthless in his murders as well as he was careless.

he needed you to ground him, you were the reason as to why he has even been alive for as long as he has.

his hand seemed to be superglued to the handle of his sharpened knife even as he was dragging his legs towards EJ's basement, where he was led to believe he would find what he was looking for.

He aggressively banged on the metal door with his fist in anticipation, not being able to wait any longer than how much he's already had to. The one to answer the door would be Eyeless Jack as it is his "resting" place in the mansion so to speak.

Once the door opened Jeff would quickly push past EJ not needing to be accepted in the space for him to go in.

"Where is she??" he shouted, his voice boasting in the cold concrete room. "I was told you found her, where the fuck is she?"

EJ would calmly close the door before slowly leading Jeff towards a corner of the large space, where a long, clean-white room divider seemed to hide something.

well, more like someone.

That was when Jeff finally saw you, your limp body laying there and your face had this gentle expression you'd usually make when you were sleeping. Beside you stood Nurse Ann, who was gently cleaning the countless cuts and lacerations you had around your body with several cotton pads and changing gauzes as well.

Jeff's heart fell down to his stomach, he would've started reeling and throwing up if he didn't rush to take a closer look at you only to see that your chest was still rising and falling.

He sighed in relief.

"As you can see, she's alive." spoke EJ as he took a few steps closer, "Nurse Ann found her as she was coming back to the mansion, she found her body laying on the edge of where Slender's territory ends and the rest of forest. She also claims that ______ wasn't there when she left, so she probably appeared a little later that same day."

Jeff's hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch your face with the back of his hand, yet hesitated slightly when his hand could almost feel the warmth of your skin.

But that's when he took a minute to really take in the rest of your appearance.

Your entire body even your face was dirtied in dried mud and soil, your fingernails were dirty and chipped, your arms and cheeks were decorated in scratches and cuts of various sizes, and your clothes.. seemed to have been replaced with a clean hospital gown and your missing shoes were replaced by socks.

EJ continued on, "And so you don't go attacking me, Nurse Ann changed her clothes. According to her they were tattered and beyond repair, and that they were completely soiled in blood."

"Blood?" Jeff spoke up in slight concern,

"The blood wasn't hers."

[sharp-silver4795]

can I have bloody painter x reader cuddling/kissing headcanons?

Ofc! He’s fun to write 🤭

Bloody Painter Relationship HCs

I uh- kinda did more than cuddles…. I went full romance on this

Cuddling

He loves to spoon. Wrapping his hands around your waist or midsection makes him feel warm and giddy.

Buddy’s kinda short, so he’s not against being the little spoon!

Lays between your legs on his back with his head on your chest/abdomen when he wants attention.

Rest your chin on his shoulder and he’s in heaven.

Helen can and will sit on your lap for hugs that way. He doesn’t care if it’s atypical for a guy, he’s short and tiny and perfect teddy bear size.

Don’t tease him about it though. Especially if you’re tickling 👀

He’s impossible to tickle

Kisses

I’ve said before that he’s ass in bed, but he’ll kiss you so sweetly.

He loves you so much, he’s never been good a physically showing it.

He will kiss your head while walking by randomly.

If you’re cuddling, don’t be surprised if you get a lil red mark from him kissing you on the same spot too many times.

He’s a man of habit 🤷

He wants to kiss you every chance he can. You lips are so nice against his and he just can’t help but feel like he’s worthy in your eyes.

Every damn time he’s biting his tongue to keep him from saying pinch me. Is this real?

Date Night

He’ll ask you to come to his room, walk you to one of the highest levels of the dungeon castel, motion you to his window, show you the stars from it.

He’d take you up to the roof at dusk to show you the Earth Star (Saturn).

If you ever wanna take the relationship further (💍) he’ll always tell you no since the only rings worthy of you were stolen by Neptune.

Picnics, sleeping in, doing dishes, cleaning the castel, watching a movie and falling asleep a quarter of the way through. Those are his favorite moments.

Creepypasta Love = Insane Love

He’d never paint you. To him, being in one of his paintings is a death sentence. No matter how many times you ask, he’ll never do it.

Instead, he’ll draw others for you. Any issues you have with someone, they’ll be in his paintings.

Yes! He will kill for you. And he will do so shamelessly.

Lil blurb: Cold Nights

Info: 2nd person POV, BP is referred to as Helen & Hel cuz nicknames 🤷

Summary: It’s cold out, the heat is out, and you’re not the only one who’s chilly.

It’s cold out. The heating isn’t working- no shocker there, this place is damn near older than the country it’s in.

You curl into the sheets for warmth, and are met with no comfort. It seems like even the BED is frozen.

Hands on your arms, shivering, you scale the stairs up to the southeast tower where your boyfriend resides. Once you get to the top, you realise that this was likely a mistake. Higher altitude means it’s gonna be colder. That is, until you see that there’s… steam coming from Helen’s room.

You walk in and find that he is fresh out of a warm shower. He looks at you calmly in very warm-looking jammies. You practically waddles to him, feeling like an ice block. When your head hits his shoulder, it clicks in his head.

He walks you to his bed, lays down, and motions for you to cuddle up with him. He runs his fingers through your hair, before they rest at your cheek, to pull your face to his, kissing you softly.

He breaks the tender touch, Your mouth is cold. He laughs at your unamused stare. “Fuck you, Hel.” His laughter only grows. You snuggle up together for the night. You gotta stay warm somehow.

Divider Creds: Sister-Lucifer

I hope you liked this! Sorry if it was too much- I did a bit extra….

Feedback is always appreciated!

[partytillicry]

what the creeps do when they want attention // GN reader

characters: Ticci toby, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Nina the Killer, & Liu Woods

prompt: you're reading a book but your partner wants attention

AN: i thought of this in the shower... thought id share lmao

Toby

he loves attention and wants it all the time so when he sees that you're reading, he's not one to bother you

i mean he still wants attention so he'll kinda walk around wherever you are and play with the random objects till you look up

"what are you doing?"

"idk... c-can i cCCCCcuddle with you..."

you pull him into your lap as Toby curls up like a perfect lap dog

you continue reading your book with one hand on his scruffy hair and the other on your book

Jeff the Killer

he wants attention all the time but won't admit it

"i mean you should be paying attention to me all the time anyways"

when Jeff saw you with that stupid book, his ass was mad honestly

didn't even say anything before snatching it out of your hands and throwing it at the wall

"bitch."

"yeah whatever"

he said pulling you onto his lap

Eyeless Jack

quite the opposite of Toby and Jeff

once he sees that your reading and minding your business, he walks away

you always pull E.J back though

a demons footsteps are very different than humans

"E.J, i heard you"

"i would like to cuddle."

he says shyly

you open your arms and he crawls in close

Nina the Killer

Nina doesn't have to cuddle, just being near you is good enough for her!!

"can i braid your hair?"

just anything like that while you do your thing is heaven to her

even if your hair isnt very long, she'll find a way to make it work...

she will...

but she still appreciates a good cuddle session every now and then

Liu Woods

literally will read with you

as soon as he sees you with a book, he's making coco/ coffee, grabbing a snack, and a book for himself

a favorite cuddle position for him is just you in his lap so thats how you will most likely sit

he so sweet too

placing little kisses on your cheeks, forehead, hands, and literally anywhere he can

you better believe that the coffee/ coco is the best you've ever had

TY SM 4 READINGGGGG <333

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 2

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

On god idk WHY I struggled sm writing this, hopefully the next few chapters will come a bit easier ;~; Anywho lmk what you think like usual!!

Commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Prologue Chapter 1

Divider by @plum98

You’re lightheaded.

You think you might faint. The nausea twisting in your gut is threatening to empty the contents of your stomach. And there’s a pounding in your head like something’s trying to claw its way into your brain.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

As you’re processing—or, at least, trying to process everything—he jerks his shoulder again and cracks his neck. And it gives you an idea.

You knocked him out once—you could do it again. Maybe you could buy yourself more time to call for help, or wait for the cops to come, or at least secure him with something better than your flimsy shirt.

And so, with a deep breath to steel your nerves, you inch closer. Your fingers grip the edges of your phone so tightly you’re almost surprised it doesn’t break.

You hate approaching him. Just going near him has your pulse spiking and your hands getting sweaty. You try to control your breathing—in and out, in and out. He can't hurt you, you remind yourself. He's tied up and prone on the floor—you have the advantage.

It's what you repeat to yourself over and over again as he just sits there and watches you through his goggles. But even as you try to convince yourself you can do this, you can't help the uneasy feeling that he has more control than he's letting on.

You look down at him, and he looks up at you. His deep brown hair falls over the metallic rims of his goggles. Something about him looks soft and almost... disarmingly innocent.

You swallow thickly, your saliva going down like tar. You can't fall for it.

You or him, you think, if you don't do this now, who knows what he'd do to you if he had the chance?

Your muscles tense, ready to strike.

In all honesty, you should've expected him to fight back. Even despite his compromised position, of course he wouldn't just sit there and take it. But you're so overwhelmed and utterly out of your element that you don't even think to expect a retaliation—not until it's already too late.

Pain burns up your body as he kicks out your legs from beneath you. You stumble with a yelp. In one horribly fast motion, as you’re trying to regain your balance, he rushes up and grabs you from behind in a headlock.

The taste and texture of soft cotton have you choking back a scream. He's gagging you with the shirt you used to tie him up with. You try to jerk out of his hold, but any slight movement has him tightening his arm around your neck.

You can't breathe.

Panic seizes your body, freezing you into compliance against him. His voice is low and quiet against your ear, and even though he doesn't threaten you, you still feel that thrum of danger pounding in your ribcage as he speaks.

"Shh," he croons, the sound reverberating against your backside, "easy, angel, easy~"

His tone is deceptively gentle.

You struggle against him, but he's so much stronger than you could've expected. Your pathetic attempts don’t even deter him in the slightest from tying the gag in a knot behind your head.

When you hear ripping, you flinch, expecting a burst of pain—from what, exactly, you aren’t even sure—but it never comes. Instead, you realize he's tearing your shirt. And then your sight is cut off as he blindfolds you with the excess fabric.

Fight—you have to fight him off.

Everything inside your body is screaming at you to do something. You can't just let him do whatever he wants to you.

You try to yank yourself free, but he flexes his arms and cuts off your airway again. Something like a half-sob, half-choke escapes you as you gasp for air. The gag clings to your throat, and you have to bite down—hard—on the now-wet fabric to prevent it from suffocating you.

"Shh, it's ok, it's alright—sh-shh~"

The hard edges of his mask dig into your hair as he holds you firmly to his chest. You're so close you can smell him—something like smoke and blood and pine trees, and all you can think about is how you need to get away from him.

"You're going to follow me—nice—n-nice and quietly, alright, angel? And I won't—I won't hurt you if you don't give me—if you don't give me a reason to."

His threat has the hairs at your nape standing stiff.

When he starts dragging you away, you don't have much of a choice but to follow.

Blind and mute, you haphazardly stumble in the direction he guides you in. When it’s too cumbersome to walk with you trapped between his arms, he clicks his tongue and loosens the chokehold.

In the ever so brief millisecond he’s shifting his hold on you, you try to make a break for it. But you don’t even get the taste of freedom before he’s grabbing you again, and this time, he ends up pinning both of your wrists behind your back. His grip is painfully tight, like a warning for you to not try that again.

He jerks behind you, with what you assume to be his neck cracking, and then he’s pushing and pulling you this way and that to bring you god-knows-where.

Every time you try to yank yourself free, his grip tightens. His fingers dig so hard into your skin that you know his imprint will leave bruises. And even though he’s guiding you through your own house, it’s impossible to keep track of where he’s taking you. You’re too overwhelmed, your thoughts too frantic to properly focus on your remaining senses.

You hear him open a door, and then he’s tugging you outside. The humid summer air clings to your skin as you’re dragged against your will through your own neighborhood. The only indicator of your whereabouts is the ground beneath your feet, which shifts from hard pavement to soft grass as you’re led away from your apartment block.

You whine against the makeshift gag, trying to chew it off or push it away from your tongue. But it’s useless. Amid your panicked struggle, you scramble for some kind of plan, some kind of opportunity to get out of this, but you can’t think straight. It takes so much energy to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other without falling that you can’t think about anything else.

You don’t expect it when he suddenly jerks you to the side and forces you to an abrupt stop. It has you choking on another gasp in surprise, like insult to injury. When you catch your breath, you realize you don’t know how far he’s taken you. For all you know, you could’ve walked for miles as much as you could’ve walked just a few hundred steps.

You try to speak, try to beg through the gag, but all that comes out is a muffled whimper. You twist in his hold, and his grip tightens until it feels like he’s going to snap the very bones of your wrists.

“Don’t move,” he warns, his voice low over your ear.

You freeze. His warning has a shiver trickling down your spine. He’s so, so close to you. He’s pressing against your backside, and if you shift just the slightest bit, you can feel the hardness of his axes pressing against you.

You swallow back a whimper.

Sirens.

You hear them in the distance.

A surge of desperately hopeful energy jolts through you. They’re here—the police—looking for you. You’re so relieved you nearly cry. But before you can react, as if sensing your shift in temperament, his grip tightens even harder.

“If you try to escape, I’ll bury a—a blade in both your knees and drag you back if I—if I have to.”

His threat, low and quiet and filled with promising intent, has you going as rigid as before.

You hold your breath as you wait—calculating the odds of the police seeing you, calculating how far you could get if you made a break for it, calculating every single odd stacked against you if you dared an escape.

Louder and louder, the blaring sirens approach. There’s more than one car, you realize, more than one chance of getting noticed. But you also know that he's probably hiding out of their immediate line of sight, and if you just stand there like he wants you to, they’ll probably never see you.

Still, his threat hangs in the air. Your body warms with impatience, but you just can't bring yourself to move. With every second ticking by, your chance at freedom is slipping through the very cracks of your fingers. You try to stay calm, try not to panic, but whether you like it or not, you're racing against time.

You haven't seen his face, you think, if you somehow got the cops' attention, would he risk getting caught? Surely, it wouldn't be worth it. Surely, if it came down to it—if it came down to either you or him confronting the cops—he'd release you and run away.

But would he hurt you before escaping? How much damage could he do in a short amount of time? The idea has the taste of acid rising up your throat again. What does he have to gain out of this? What does he even want from you??

The blaring sirens grow too close, too loud for you to ignore. They must be right down the street. The man behind you is deathly still, which confirms your theory. You take in another deep breath. Now's your chance.

With as much strength as you can gather, you kick him and jerk your elbow into him at the same time. You don't know where your hit lands, but you feel the full force of the impact as you hit your mark. It's enough to hurt him—or, at the very least, stun him—and it has him loosening his grasp just enough for you to break free from him.

You run.

Stumbling blindly, you use all of your energy to focus on pushing forward and moving as far away from him as possible. Fingernails claw at the fabric over your eyes, but the knot is too tight to undo. You gasp with exertion, and another flash of panic rushes through you when you can't breathe in through the gag.

You tear at the fabric, nails nearly splintering from the effort, but the knot loosens and comes undone.

You’re about to gasp in relief when you're suddenly pushed to the ground. You yelp, turning onto your back, and though can't see him, you can feel your attacker above you. You don’t hesitate to kick in his direction, and even over the blaring sirens, you hear him cursing.

You pray the police see you, especially as he grabs one of your ankles and uses it as leverage against you. You’re about to twist your body and nail him with another kick from your free leg, but he catches that one too. And then the air is pushed from your lungs as the full weight of him pins you down, securing your legs so that you can't keep fighting him off.

You start using your hands instead.

He blocks your first hit, but on the second one, your fingers make contact with something hard—his mouthguard. With a burst of strength, you wrap your hands around it and rip it off of him—anything for some kind of distraction.

It works. With another curse, he releases your hand. You don't waste a second trying to tear your blindfold off again. But it's too tight—you don't have a chance, not while he's on top of you like this and your time is so, so very limited. The sirens are at their loudest; if you keep waiting, they'll drive away without noticing you.

You try to shove him off, but as soon as you make contact with the fabric of his hoody, both of his hands lock around your wrists in a death grip. You yelp at the flash of pain snipping your circulation, which is immediately overtaken by another pang of agony as he roughly snaps your arms above your head and traps you in place.

You realize, as you hear the police cars whipping down the street, that you only have one last chance at calling attention to yourself. And it suddenly clicks that your mouth is free, and both of his hands are busying themselves with yours, so he has no way of shutting you up.

Scream.

As soon as the idea comes to mind, you take in a breath. But in the brief millisecond it takes you to do so, it's like he realizes what you're planning to do. And just as you're about to scream like your life depends on it—because it probably does—something presses against your lips.

The pressure is soft and warm, with rough, chapped patches. The smell of blood and... something else, something unfamiliar fills your senses.

It, admittedly, takes you a moment to realize he's kissing you. He's kissing you to stop you from screaming. The realization stuns you.

You're too shocked to react. All you can do, it seems, is lie there and let him kiss you.

At the back of your mind, something begs for you to fight back. Push him, bite him, thrash beneath him—anything. A thousand different ways of freeing yourself come to mind, and yet, none surface.

Even as you hear the sirens rushing past, even as they begin to grow quieter and quieter in the growing distance, you just can't bring yourself to fight back.

His lips—your kidnapper's lips—never once part from yours. But despite the body heat, there's no warmth in the contact. It's just cold, calculated—heartless.

When silence falls over the streets, only then does he move. His mouth twitches into a relieved, self-satisfied smile against you. And that vile nausea twists at the pit of your stomach yet again.

You don't try to scream, even after he pulls away.

You hear him readjust what you could assume to be his mouthguard back over his face. And then your blindfold is ripped off.

The light is blinding. You have to blink the muddiness and confusion away. And then, as your sight returns, you find a pair of deep orange goggles staring down at you. Light from the sunset bathes him in a hazy glow like a halo of light, and from the perspective you have beneath him, he almost looks like an angel.

Your stomach lurches again, and you nearly puke.

Looking down at you, the man tilts his head, but doesn't say anything as he crams the makeshift blindfold into your mouth. It's tightened behind your head, tighter than he'd previously knotted it, and your pathetic attempts at stopping him are once again useless.

When he takes something out of his pocket, you can't help but flinch. His threat rings in your head, and you wonder if this is it, if this is the last thing you'll ever see; this masked stranger slitting your throat on a warm summer evening.

You'll die not even knowing why he wanted to kill you.

Relief, brief and fleeting as it may be, warms your chest when all he pulls out is a disposable flip phone.

He presses a button and, his sight never once leaving you, holds the device to his ear.

"...Yeah, I'm gonna need a pickup."