#ticci toby knock off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xxsinisterbunniexx · 5 months ago

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could you do one with the creepy pasta boys where maybe a victim somehow manages to catch them off guard and the reader sees and without thinking nd just out on instinct they end up killing the victim and saving the creepy pasta boys and how they would react to that and seeing the reader covered in blood for the very first time? i’m sorry this is really long😭😭🙏

Wow very cool ask 😮 sorry this took me a bit, I started writing this as headcanons and then I realized that it functioned better as mini ficlets so that’s what I did

Creepypasta boys seeing reader covered in blood for the first time ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, BEN drowned, X Virus, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoodie

Jeff

You had been seeing Jeff for a while, and though you had an inkling about the type of work he did, you’d never pressed too much for details. Knowing what you did about Jeff, even if you had pressed he probably wouldn’t tell you much. But the curiosity was killing you, so you went against your best judgment and followed him, desperate to know the life he led when he wasn’t with you.

He had just corned his victim, starting with a few slashes to get them riled up before he went in for the kill. You weren’t the best at hiding. Very quickly, you caught his eye and he was completely thrown off. You weren’t supposed to see this.

Taking the distraction as a chance to escape with their life, the victim attacks Jeff, knocking his knife out of his hand and tackling him.

Oh no.

This was all your fault, you shouldn’t have came but… now you needed to do something. In a flash, you had picked up his weapon without thinking, guttural screams erupting from you as you stabbed it into the victims back, over and over until they weren’t moving anymore. Jeff was stunned, seeing your face covered in blood as you panted. The adrenaline wore off and you crumpled to your knees. He pushed the body off of him, not knowing what to think as he looked at you.

In a way, he almost felt… emasculated. He totally could’ve handled it if you hadn’t interfered. Did you think he was weak?

On the other hand, seeing how far you’d go for him only filled him with more adoration for you. He never wants you to do it again, but it was endearing that you’d do it at all.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to interfere.” You were stumbling over your words, feeling so panicked.

“Didn’t realize you were so stuck on me.” He said smugly, drawing you out of your head. He pulled your body close to him, lifting your chin. “I can’t lie though, you look pretty hot like this.”

Now your heart was racing for a different reason.

“You’re not mad at me?” You asked in a small voice.

God, he loved you to death. You’d just witnessed him about to murder someone for the first time and you were worried about him being mad at you.

“Of course not.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “But don’t ever do that again. I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart.”

Toby

Toby didn’t mind bringing you on missions. In fact, he kind of loved it.

As long as you didn’t get too close.

He’d never want anything to happen to you, so he made sure you’d maintain distance if you came with him. Which was never really an issue. You had an incredible ability to just block out what Toby was doing.

He could just pop some headphones on you and leave you in the car and you’d sit there patiently until he was finished. Other times, you were allowed to watch from a short distance, so long as you were out of the way.

Today, you were perched up in a tree, watching from above as Toby took care of his victim down below.

Toby was the type to “play with his food” so to speak. He would often chase his victims around, making gashes and cuts in their arms and legs until it got too hard for them to run.

This victim was particularly vigorous, despite the extensive damage to their body, they were still fighting tooth and nail for their life. Toby didn’t mind that really, he couldn’t feel any of the pain they were inflicting on him, so it was all the same.

It wasn’t uncommon for Toby to sustain a bit of damage after a mission… but this time it was getting bad. They were really getting some hits on Toby, and while he wasn’t flinching at the damage, you were. An anxious feeling was rising in your chest. You knew Toby had no way to gauge when the damage was too bad.

After a particularly harsh blow, you couldn’t take it anymore. You dropped down from the tree, grabbing one of his hatchets that he dropped earlier in the encounter.

In a flash you had bolted toward the victim, swinging the hatchet at their throat. The blood spattered all over you, and yet you felt nothing as their body sunk to the ground, finally lifeless.

“Why -fuck- did you do that?” Toby eyed you with giddy curiosity.

“They were hurting you.” You said simply, tossing the hatchet to the ground. The weight of your actions hadn’t reached you yet.

He bit his lip, grabbing your body and trapping you in a bear hug. “This is almost better than seeing you covered in my cum.”

Your face went red at his vulgar comment, but you couldn’t help but just sigh, sinking into his hold.

Needless to say, he was obsessed with you, even more than before. While he had no problem taking care of his own kills, he’d definitely need to see you do that again.

Eyeless Jack

Murder was a sin you’d never even think to commit. You hated the idea of it all together, and anyone who would do something like that.

But ever since you met Jack, you understood that sometimes it could be a necessity.

He was so gentle to you, so loving. It wasn’t his fault that his body could only survive off organs. You’d come to accept long ago that, in order for this man you loved dearly to live, others must die.

But you never thought you’d be fully confronted with that reality.

Jack came to you one day, horribly injured, barely clinging to life. You were shocked and horrified. He was a demon. How could anyone even inflict this much damage on him?

Slenderman had found out about his relationship with you, and as such Jack was punished. The evil entity had harshly reminded him that proxies weren’t allowed to find love outside the mansion.

Your eyes filled with tears, holding him in your arms. “Jack I’m sorry…. I shouldn’t have…. I don’t know…” you were at a loss of what to say.

He lifted his hand, gently cupping your face. “Don’t be. I’ll never regret loving you.”

“What can I do…? I… how should I help you?” You asked.

He’d already bandaged up the wounds, using his knowledge to stop the bleeding, but there was another problem.

How would Jack hunt?

You could never kill someone, but what could you do in this situation? This time it was necessary. Jack needed to eat. You couldn’t watch him writhe in agony like this. He’d never heal if he was starving.

You didn’t even dare raise the question. You knew he’d just tell you it would be fine. But you knew it wouldn’t be.

So you did what needed to be done.

When you came back, covered in blood, Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I brought you something…” you said in a small voice.

His jaw was dropped open. “How did you…” he trailed off, knowing he already knew the answer.

He was so unbelievably grateful, but he was almost in tears. He never wanted you to have to do that for him.

He was so conflicted by the sight of you covered in blood. You were so delicate, so gorgeous. His heart swelled with adoration for you, knowing you were more important to him than anything else in this world.

However, at the same time, he etched the image into his mind. He’d make sure he never saw you like that again.

BEN drowned

Ben loved you. He truly did. That’s why he liked to push you sometimes.

“If you really love me, you’ll kill for me.”

Your jaw dropped when you heard the words he’d said.

This wasn’t the first time Ben had tested your love for him. All the other times you didn’t mind to do as he asked. He needed the reassurance, and you didn’t mind providing it to him.

But this was…

He wanted to see how far you’d go. He wanted to see if you were truly as devoted to him as you claimed to be.

Would you throw away your humanity for him?

You swallowed hard, finally directing your eyes to the person tied up in the corner of the room. Their body was completely bound and their eyes were blindfolded. You could only hear muffled whimpers coming from their duct taped mouth.

You felt sick. You couldn’t imagine how scared they must be.

“Ben, I-I-I just can’t.” Your voice shook as you stumbled over your words.

His face fell, his expression looking so deeply hurt. It made your heart twist, but the thought of doing what he was worse.

“I’m already making this so easy for you. I’m not asking you to hunt someone down and dismember them. All you have to do is slit their throat.” The knife is his hand gleamed in the light.

Your body just shook. What the fuck were you supposed to do?

“Fine. I’ll help you do it.” He pushed your body closer to your victim, handing you the knife.

You whimpered as he grabbed your hand, guiding it towards the person’s neck. It was so much quicker than you’d expected. Your knife sliced through their skin, blood splattered all over you, and in just a matter of seconds they were dead on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t believe you’d actually done it. You were horrified, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, covered in blood. You felt so disgusted, trying not to puke at the sight.

But Ben had never seen you look prettier.

X Virus

The lab was such an intriguing place to you. Not only because Cody was there, but because of the type of work he did in there.

You could never really understand all the stuff he talked about, but you were learning little by little, and you were fascinated by all he taught you.

You were perched up on top of one of the lab tables when Cody came in, the newest victim slung over his shoulder. He put them down on the table, their chest still rising and falling.

This one was just asleep, not dead yet. He was patient today.

If you were lucky, like today, you actually got to see Cody test new viruses. It was an experience like no other, seeing all the effects on a persons body. It exhilarated you. Well, for the most part. Just up until the death.

You didn’t love that part but… it was a necessary sacrifice. The work he was doing was so important. He needed subjects to test on, so you’d long accepted that this was part of the process.

“You contained yourself today.” You smiled.

He set his bat down, coming over to pat you on the head. “I really wanted you to see this one.”

You were already buzzing with excitement. “Well let’s see it.”

“Just one second. This formulation has to be kept at a very specific temperature.” He went to go retrieve the mixture while you tried to wait patiently.

You eyed the victim, noticing them start to stir a bit. They weren’t bound at all, completely free, lying on the table.

“Cody…?” You called.

There was no answer.

Suddenly the victim jolted up, fully alert and awake. They screamed until their eyes settled on you, and then they immediately lunged for you.

You dodged quickly, your heart racing. The adrenaline had you acting quickly, picking up Cody’s bat.

You swung and swung, and by the time you were done the lab was covered in red. You panted, sinking down to the floor.

Cody finally returned, almost dropping the vial when he saw the state of the lab. But then he saw you, and he immediately set it aside and dropped to the floor, holding your body.

“What happened?”

“They just suddenly got up and started attacking me. I didn’t know what to do.” Your voice was panicked. “I’m sorry… the experiment…” you trailed off.

“Hey, it’s okay. You did the right thing.” He shushed you, gently petting your hair. “I’d never want any harm to come your way.”

He was shocked honestly, he didn’t think you were capable of doing that. At the same time, he was so impressed with you. You were so much stronger than he thought.

Tim/Masky

Tim always wanted his lives to remain separate. Masky’s existence made that pretty easy for him.

That was until you became a part of his life.

He loved you. He couldn’t stand being away from you, even when he wasn’t himself. It seemed Masky had grown pretty fond of you too.

But like all good things in his life, everything became tainted by that vile entity. It loved finding new ways to torture Tim.

A mission right in the area you live in? Great. Just great.

He had his victim in an alleyway, hoping to get this over quickly. Having you see him do this was his worst nightmare.

“Tim…?”

He was filled with dread to see you stopped right in front of the alley, just as he was about to off his victim. Your eyes went wide and his stomach dropped.

He froze, completely unable to move. You quickly regained your senses after the shock, flying over to Tim, holding his face in your hands. “Tim…! Tim….!”

You were trying to get him to respond to you, but he was stuck. You heard a groan and looked over to the victim that was still lying on the ground next to you two.

You were at a loss of what to do. You needed to get Tim out of here, but suddenly something he had told you in the past had popped into your head.

If Tim didn’t finish out his jobs, he would be killed.

Your stomach dropped. You grabbed Tim’s shoulders, shaking him a bit. “Tim… please….!”

It was no use. You realized what you had to do. You grabbed the metal pipe that Tim had dropped earlier, hoping you could make this quick.

Tears streamed down your face as you finished Tim’s job, crumpling to your knees as soon as it was over.

Tim watched you in shock, trapped inside his own body, helpless to stop you but forced to watch.

After that night, you hadn’t seen Tim.

He couldn’t bring himself to be near you after that. The image of just how much he had tainted you haunting him. He wasn’t worthy of being around you, not after what he forced you to do.

You wondered if it was your fault. Endlessly reaching out to him with no answer.

After weeks without hearing from him, you started to feel restless. You didn’t know how you were feeling, unable to discern what was bringing you back to the alley where you’d bludgeoned someone to death.

But it was the last place you saw Tim.

You walked into it, just a plain old alley. You scoffed, not even sure why you had come here. Until you looked up and saw him.

“Tim…?” You almost didn’t believe your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry…. I shouldn’t…. But I missed you too much.”

“It wasn’t your fault just… please don’t ever leave again…” your voice was choked up with tears.

“I won’t.” His voice was certain as he held you close to him.

Brian/Hoodie

Brian was never afraid to show his true nature to you. He’d long accepted that Hoodie was a part of him and that murder was a part of his life.

Which is why he knew it had to be you.

From the moment he’d met you, he could see it. Just something different about the way you carried yourself or maybe it was that look in your eyes.

Something told him you wouldn’t flinch at the graphic displays you’d surely witness if you were around him often enough.

Sure enough, he was right. You didn’t seem to mind the nature of his work, even to the point where he could bring you while he did it.

You’d take any excuse to be with Brian anyways and Hoodie was pretty exciting to be around too. Overtime, as your adoration of Brian grew, so did your interest in his work.

You’d never had these urges before, but something about seeing Brian do it just made it seem appealing almost.

You tried to keep it under control. What would Brian think? I mean yeah, he did it, but he was also kind of inescapably bound to an evil entity that was forcing him to do so. You didn’t have a reason. Maybe he would be disgusted with you. There was no way you could tell him how you were feeling.

Although you thought you were good at concealing your interest, Brian had started to notice it pretty early on. He wondered when you’d get the guts to ask him, but months had passed without a word from you.

One day he had brought you on a mission. It was a fairly easy kill, the victim would be easy to take out.

Just as he was going in for the kill, he stopped, turning to you.

“Wanna give it a go?” He asked, extending his arm out to you, holding a knife.

“What…?” You were so thrown off. Had you heard him right?

“I said, wanna give it a go?” He reemphasized his words.

You hesitantly took the knife, still unsure if he was playing a joke on you. But when you looked at his face it seemed like he was serious.

You hesitantly stepped forward, looking over the victim before swinging the knife down quickly, stabbing them.

You loved the feeling, repeating the action over and over until you were covered in blood, panting from the exertion. You were so hyper fixated on the kill that Brian’s voice startled you.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had it in ya.” He chuckled, ruffling your hair.

“I…” you were embarrassed about how into it you had gotten.

“You look very cute like this.” He smiled, taking your hand and helping you up.

Your heart fluttered. He accepted you. You couldn’t believe it.

“Alright, now let’s take care of this junk.” He joked, lightly kicking the body.

Hope you enjoyed!!!! :3 sorry if this doesn’t fit the prompt exactly, I wanted to switch up the scenarios to make it fit the characters a bit better

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theamberparadise · 13 days ago

Text

TICCI TOBY THIRSTS | MDNI

SYPNOSIS; another set of nsfw thirsts for tic tic tobb. Yay!

TW; p3tpl4y, l34sh, b00t w0rsh1p, m0mmy k1nk, calling toby a b1tch lol, cnc, ch0k1ng, d3gr4d4t10n, LOTS OF DIRTY TALK

A/N; legit what do you guys see in this freak of a man.

(also i decided to scrap the w*tersp*orts thing lmao)

Treating Toby like a dog after he called you a bitch during patrol. Though, he never seems to learn his lesson.

“Please, pl-please, mommy.” Toby groveled on his knees.

His pretty little eyes were looking up at you, almost tearing up at the pressure of the leash around his throat. His shame was bursting through the roof, and yet he can’t help but to accept the burning red on his pale cheeks while he rutted his hips back and forth, quivering with every push.

You grinned at the sight. All it took was you wrapping a rusty chain leash around his strong neck for him to drop to his knees and beg like a dog.

“Please what? I don’t know what the fuck you want,” you sneered, cocky revenge boiling through every follicle of your very being. The decrepit shed you two were supposed to scope out was a mission soon abandoned the second Toby called you a “bitch” for ignoring him throughout the whole menagerie.

Your payback? Wrangling him with the metal rope you ripped out of the moldy dog-house that stunk of grime and piss. Toby’s back was turned and fiddling with the porcelain dwarves that plagued the corners of the shed’s backyard. Choking and sputtering while you tugged on the leash and pulled his neck down, knocking him down on his knees.

It’s impossible he wouldn’t resist. But one slap to the face after another with your feet kicking at his groin has him finally obeying.

“Not so much of a big dog, are you now?” you taunted, flashing your teeth in his face. “Bark for me, puppy. Bark.” you pressed the pads of your booted toes against his bare, leaking tip. Toby shuddered, his body jolting even more when pearls of his honey stains the leather of your shoe.

“I’m n-not fucking d-doing that, you evil bi–” his sentence was cut off by you stomping on the underside of his cock. He shrieked, back arching while his breath quivered, squirts of white, sticky cum reaching your shoelaces.

Toby doesn’t know how many times he came. But you do. This is his sixth time. Sixth time of him rubbing his cock inch by inch until he broke loose.

“Call me that again and I won’t let you see an inch of my pussy.” The warm spot between your legs are leaking into your pants, the firm cloth of your panties merely just pinching the sides of your clit, and you had no shame in showing it to Toby. Your legs were spread wide open, the scent of your cunt wafting to his nose, the tugged leash around his now-red neck– and the threat of him not cumming again– the only things keeping the man turned animal at your feet.

“Now, bark, puppy. Or do you respond better when I call you a bitch?” your guffaw sent him into a raging overdrive, causing him to instinctively lean towards you, forgetting that his cock was a touch close to bursting once again, his body trembled once again and fell apart. “Ffff-uuuck!!!” he cried. Toby cried. “Mommy! Fuck, m-mommy! Sh-shit!”

Your boot was soaked. Both in cum and his tears.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Beg, bitch.” you hissed, dragging your foot back towards you.

With a groan, Toby stuttered, hesitatingly opening his mouth, before pursing his lips once again.

“P-please! Please, mommy…” He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed in desperation, pupils glimmering in hope. “Aw, good bitch,” you smirked, your taunting tone punishing him even more. “Beg. Beg more like a good dog.”

Toby’s hope faltered, his cock aching, throbbing– begging him to plunge in your sopping pussy. He didn’t know whether to do as you say or take you right there. But then again, he can’t force you to let him fuck you.

“Please,” he started. “Ple-please, mommy, pleas-se let me f-fuck you.” Toby’s face pressed against your wet pool of a crotch, nibbling at the seam of your pants. “At least let m-me taste it,” your free hand reached down to his auburn locks, tangling your fingers in them before you pulled his head back, forcing his tear-filled eyes to gaze at you. “Please… need ‘yer delicious p-pussy s’bad, mommy, please,” he whined.

Just like a dog, Toby whined.

His fingers were digging at the dirt below the two of you, clinging onto the soil with solid need.

“Yeah? You like begging for this pussy? My pussy? My warm, tight, dripping pussy?” Toby nodded frantically, his bangs flopping against his forehead dripping in sweat. “Wanna shove your pathetic dick in this?” Letting go of his hair, you press your middle and ring finger against the wet spot, groaning in delight when you throw your head back in awaited pleasure. Your eyes open once again, looking down at him with a sultry and slim gaze, watching as he practically drools at the stain.

You can hear Toby moan at the sight, his tongue darting out just a second– tasting your sweet juice, before the gushing halts and he is left absolutely drunk of fascination.

“Mommy..” he leans in again, pressing his face into your now-soaked crotch, taking in a whiff of your scent. “Smell s’good, f-fuck–”

Slowly, you tug down on your fly zipper, licking your lips, before shoving off the leather until it pools down on your ankles. Your pink panties followed, the thin soaked fabric falling atop the discarded pants.

Toby moaned. The twitchy fucker moaned.

He was far too overstimulated already– even you lost count of how many times he spurted his sticky sperm on your person.

“You want this?” you taunt, the glimmers of reprisal shining like gold in your eyes. Your fingers, land on your clit, before raising them up and striking them down– one, two, three times before they circle your puffy clit once again, a guttural and filthy moan escaping your plump lips. “Fuck. Tell me you want this pussy, baby. Tell me,” you suck in a sharp breath, the ache of your own orgasm becoming an even heavier weight even for you to handle.

With a whine, Toby grunted. “I wa-want that pussy, mommy, I want it s-s’bad, so fucking bad mommy please–” he hiccups, “Wan’ – wan’ m’dick i-in you– p-ple-ease.” he can barely form any coherent words, his eyes fluttering open and shut, his hips are stuttering as well– just like his words, they tremble, shake, sputtering out delicious heaven.

“Let m-me fuck you, m-mommy, please, I’ll make you f-feel s’good, so full you wo-wouldn’t remember a t-thing you were ever m-mad about–please–” he was sobbing. Toby Rogers– the Toby Rogers– was sobbing. Tears and all.

“Please, your cunt looks s-so fucking g-good, mommy,” a chuckle vibrates in your throat. And for a second– you feel empathy.

“You want this pussy?” you tap your clit two more times, before giving him a grin. “Then take it, bitch.” you stand up, leash still in your hand, bending over on the table you were sitting on after you unzipped your jacket revealing your bare tits, which were now pressed against the cold, rusty metal, giving Toby front row seats to see your dripping wet cunt.

Those were the only words Toby needed to growl and mount his tank of a body on top of yours, his cock spending no time to ram itself inside you, making you scream against the brick wall you faced. Every hair on your body stood up in the chill of relieved hunger.

Toby’s strong hips snapped onto yours, the underside of your ass swelling red quickly.

You pull on the leash, a choked gasp emitted out of him, followed by a whimper at your order. “Harder, bastard,” you hissed. “Or else I’m not letting you cum inside.” you tug on the leash harder, restricting him of air while he continues ravishing you from behind.

“Yes, m-mommy,” he whined. You tug, harder, a pained wheeze coming from him. “Now apologize– ugh, fuck– or else.” you threatened. And with a heave of his chest, he nodded, his reddening face now close to yours. “I’m– m’sorry mommy, I’m s-so s-sorry.”

You doubt he will ever do some malicious shit to you ever again.

You’re Cody’s assistant–smart, quiet, obedient. But your boss’s best friend– Toby, likes you a little bit too much. In fact, he thinks you’re more useful for other, better things. Like being used as a fleshlight right on Cody’s lab reports.

He likes seeing you. And he knows you see him, too.

But this time, Toby seems much more eager to find more excuses to get closer to you inside of Cody’s lab.

You were watching your boss meticulously drop micro-doses of a new formula inside a beaker, all the while his free hand is scribbling possible hypotheses on thin fax paper, green goggles fogging up on how heavy he was breathing, before finally exhaling and letting the empty syringe fall into the disposal.

Cody briefly announces that he would take a trip to an illegal drug shed that you personally have visited with him quite a few times to help fill up the back of his car with various chemicals and supplies– and you knew the trip there was not short.

“I'll be back in approximately two hours. Keep watch over the lab until then.” Those were the last words you hear from him before the bolted doors shut, and you're left with nothing but the twitching rats, the buzzing silence, and your clipboard.

But not even ten minutes passed by when Toby came bursting through the metal door unannounced, grinning with eyes that twinkle with bad intentions.

You tell him Cody made a run for extra supplies, but after he gripped your hair and slammed you face-first onto the stainless steel table, your jaw aching against the cool metal.

You had tried to protest and tell him that Cody might have forgotten his keys and come back any time now, but he only pushed your head further onto the table.

It was obvious that Toby had taken a certain “liking” to you ever since Cody introduced you to him. Of course Cody was oblivious, he was far too busy tending to his lab rats to even notice his best friend trying to get all touchy-feely with you behind the desk.

You couldn’t help but to lean into Toby’s touches. The way his wounded fingers grazed over your clothed ass just enough for you to gain goosebumps. The way his eyes lingered a little longer on your perfect tits while leaning closer for him to “hear you”. The way his breath hitches when the pads of his fingers wrap around your waist, disguising his actions as a “greeting”.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. It was terrifying, yes, but the fear made your clit tighten and your sweat cold like ice.

“Been w-waiting for him to l-leave all week,” he rasped, reaching under your abdomen just low enough for you to feel him mess with your belt buckle. “Yo-you have no idea h-how many times I’ve d-dreamed– slut! –of this.”

Your horror is cranked to the max when you feel your jeans drop down to your ankles and your belt clunk to the ground. The back side of your lab coat was lifted up to your back, giving Toby a close-up of your drenched panties.

“F-fuck,” he heaved, almost laughing at your state. Opening a drawer, Toby pulled out a pocket knife, obviously belonging to Cody, and slid the blade under the elastic of the garter, the coolness of the metal making you flinch before the thin fabric fell down like paper.

“Hah– wish I could s-see your ti-tits, but this’ll ha-have to do.” you feel your hairs stand up when you hear his belt clink as well, the shifting of thick fabric making you push your hips back in quiet anticipation.

“You want this just a-as much as I do, d-don’t you, baby?” the tip of his cock starts rubbing against your dripping folds, almost threatening to get in. “You keep on t-trying to – fuck –pull away from me, b-but you and I kno-know how much you really want this.”

Toby shoves his cock inside, pushing out a cry from you, your slick coating the base of his shaft. He laughs at this, cruel jolts and tics making you jump around him.

“You know how ha-hard it was trying t-to hide ha-half of his chemicals just s-so he can get the fu-fuck out?”

Your eyes widen. The cheeky little fucker.

“I had to dump it all in s-some big-ass lake… but it was w-worth it if it m-meant I could see all t-t-this…” his thumb comes down, rubbing the part of your cunt that drags along when he tries to pull his cock back.

With a harsh slap to your rear, Toby started moving, like he was craving, hungry. Waiting. His moans were almost animalistic, like a wolf panting.

“Hah– ah, ah– fffuck,” you can hear his chest heave, a significant contrast with the pacing of yours.

Like instinct, your hips push back, wanting more. More of what? You’re not sure. Maybe you’re just as desperate as he is.

“Y’know– heh– I’d think you would be nicer– b-better for other things,” to your surprise, Toby lifts you up with ease, his forearms rubbing against your abdomen, pressing so firmly you think you’re already bruised. Your legs fling up in the air, kicking when they lift off the ground while your arms flail in the air, shame heating up your skin when you get a gist on what he’s about to do.

And just like a machine, Toby bounces your body up and down, slaps of skin echoing in the room, your tits springing up and down violently due to his disgraceful pace.

You’re screaming. The bolted walls ricocheting your moans and pathetic little cries while Toby used you like a toy.

“And you’re p-perfect material f-for a fleshlight.” He giggled, a tinge of anger stinging your eyes when he referred to you like a toy, but somehow, your cunt clenched down even more.

“Oh? You like b-being treated like a toy? Like a f-fucking cocksleeve?” you wanted to shoot an insult back, but you couldn’t. The wind was being knocked out of your lungs with every thrust. “Bet you get Cody to tr-treat you like this, too h-huh?”

And as if it couldn't get any worse, the force of you going up and down made the button on your shirt pop, revealing your tits. Toby grins, snickering into your neck.

"Fuck. That's h-hot, baby. N-no bra? You w-were waiting for this, weren't y-you?"

You hated this. You hated how your heart beats a little faster when he holds you close like this, talks to you close like this, fucks you like this…

But you aren’t going to accept defeat so easily.

Your knee raises and you land a stomp on his thigh, but he retaliates and slammed his dick the farthest into your womb, your own cry both in pain and pleasure ringing in your ears. “Don’t fucking k-kick me you buh–bitch,” you hissed into your ear. “You like t-this. You like w-when I claim you l-like a whore, s-so stop deny– denying it.”

You smile internally, loving the boost of anger you gave him, resulting in him fucking you faster– harder.

You wouldn’t wanna deny it any longer.

You catch Toby masturbating with your panties because you heard him through the wall. As revenge, you shut him up with the same panties so you can finally sleep peacefully.

Thirteen days.

Thirteen days you haven’t gotten your sleep, all because of Toby not being able to keep his moans quiet right next to your room.

And for thirteen days, your best pair of panties have gone missing, too.

It was currently almost two AM in the damn morning, and yet Toby hasn’t shut up since eleven. You had tried everything– ear plugs, noise cancelling headphones, hell, even blasting your favorite sleep music on your speakers didn’t work.

So now, you’ve had enough. You trudged to his room, wearing nothing but a shirt with no bra, and panties, hair disheveled to hell, and eyebags as big as your regret.

But when your fist wraps around the copper handle, a clearer version of his moans were apparent to you, the sounds previously being muffled by the thick concrete in your room but now that you’re right outside his, you can clearly hear just what he’s so desperate about, and you can’t help but feel mischievous. Conjuring up a plan in your head, you turn the handle and slam the door open.

Toby’s head was thrown back and his eyes were pinched shut. Panties– your panties– were wrapped around his cock, being rubbed up and down by his heavy hand, pumping out spurts of wasted cum on the fibers of the fabric.

“Mnn… fuck, Y/N..” he exhaled, a steam of his breath pushes out as he lays back on his hands, chest heaving.

You grinned. “Yes?”

His head snaps towards your direction, a pink tint envelopes his face while his fingers grip on the material under him, his eyes widening like huge marbles.

Clicking your tongue, you shuffle forward, thumb and pointer finger reaching down to pinch the fabric, the soft graze making Toby shudder and his cock twitch.

Bringing the fabric up to your mouth, you stick your tongue out and lick at the sticky cum that hasn’t yet been absorbed by the fabric, moaning when the bittersweet flavor lands on your tongue.

Toby watches– stares. He stares like he has never been so mesmerized by anything like that before.

You glance at him, before smirking and suddenly shoving your panties inside his mouth, the gash on the side of his cheek already drooling spit. He chokes on it for a while, before you push him back on the mattress, his head hanging off the foot of the bed.

You’re straddling his legs. And when you look down, his cock is still hard– still twitching. You chuckle at this. More than three hours of jacking off, and yet he’s still horny.

You palm at your clit, biting your lip at the sensation, before slowly pulling down your panties and eventually kicking them off as you hover over his cock. You pull up your shirt, your breasts perking up and nipples starting to tighten in the cold air.

You notice Toby lifting his neck up to see you, and you smile. You lean down, closer to his face, shaking your tits right in front of him. He moans, the fabric of your panties being muffled.

You rose up, harshly gripping his cock and earning a pained whine from him, before slamming your hips violently, his own hips jolting up with such force that makes you bounce on him again.

Giggling in victory, you finally start moving, giving him no time to adjust. He shrieks– tears forming as his voice is being muffled by the makeshift gag.

You could only laugh at him, reaching down to choke his neck, your pace gaining even more speed and power. It wasn’t long until you found your sweet spot and you moaned his name, making him shoot his hands up, gripping and clawing at your hips, pulling them down even more.

You slap his hands away, growling. “Did I fucking tell you to touch me?” he flinches at the pressure of your hand striking his, whimpering. “Did I fucking tell you, asshole? Fucking answer me!”

Toby pathetically shook his head, eyes pinched shut at both the pleasure and shame he was feeling, tears flowing out like a leaking dam.

“Don’t touch me unless I say so,” you growled. “Or else I won’t let you cum at all. Understood?” Toby nods, a muffled and whimpering please vibrating through the panties.

Your hand tightens on his throat, his fingers almost tearing the sheets. “You’re only allowed to cum when I say so. Cum too soon and I will never fuck you again,” your threat makes him quiver, his head shaking side to side like he was being punished (which in his point of view, he was).

His whines and cries only got louder when you continued your pace, hitting your own G-spot over and over again with no breaks, your cunt clenching down on him like it’s trying to hold on.

“Mmmph!” Toby cried, your panties absolutely soaked with his saliva. You knew he was about to cum again. But you weren’t letting him go that easily.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed. “Shut the fuck up and take it. You wanted this, don’t fucking sob like you weren’t jacking off right next to my room for the past two weeks– oh, fuck,” you feel your own high building itself like bricks ready to fall over, and yet, you find the strength to resist.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” you panted, fingers basically clawing at his throat (which Toby seemed to really like). “You wanna make me cum? Make mommy cum on your cock?”

Toby whines and nods, eyes pleading at you to let him cum, too.

“You’re not cumming unless you’ve earned it, Toby. Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me?” he grunts at the nickname before nodding once again.

You smile, continuing your pace, and pretty soon, you find your walls falling down. You howl, thighs quivering at the sudden orgasm, rocking your hips back and forth to gain more friction. “Fuck, baby– shit!”

Your high was interrupted by Toby’s cock finally bursting and spewing hot sticky cum inside your walls, halting you in shock as your body shoots straight while his squirms beneath you.

“You little brat.” you growl, leaning down to snatch the panties out of his mouth, sneering at his coughing and sputtering. “I told you not to fucking cum unless I say so.” your hand grips the sides of his jaw, forcing them open, his mouth making a perfect O shape.

“You’re gonna pay for this.” you hiss. Toby nods. “Yes mommy– huck! – ‘m sorry, mommy.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta proxy #creepypasta x reader #tobias erin rogers #creepypasta au #creepypasta smut #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby headcanons #toby erin rogers #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby

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rat6ix · 6 months ago

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Proxy.

Ticci toby x proxy!reader

Wc: 1.8k

— 🐀

Summary: Toby finds out your secret and now you have to make sure he doesn’t run his mouth to his friends.

Warnings: smut (wow, so surprising), sub toby, reader is mean, Toby lowkey scared of reader, Tobys also a proxy, reader doesn’t want anyone in the slender mansion to know who they are under their mask, reader doesn’t live in the slender mansion, knife stuff, reader and Toby went to the same school ,full fic version of my last ticci toby post sorta not really but in the ways that count.

Recently you’ve been seeing someone in the woods by your house. You already knew who it was, an old friend from school. That was the only other person you’d ever heard of called “ticci toby”, It did the take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. You always made sure you knew when he was going to be there, learning his schedule the first few days he started showing up, after all you had your own work to do. Right now you were sitting on your couch, beetlejuice playing in the background as you stared back at Toby from the living room window, a disinterested look on your face. 12am sharp was when he headed back to what you could only guess to be the slender mansion.

You had been there a few times but not long enough for anybody but Ej and slenderman himself to see you. You and Ej were acquaintances, the only one you liked well enough to actually greet whenever you stopped by. He was quiet and didn’t ask questions, the last thing you needed was a nosy fuck in your business. Sometimes you’d bring him the kidneys of your last job if he was lucky, that wasnt very often; they were usually damaged from your attacks anyways. As soon as you were sure he was far enough away from your house you made your way to your room, throwing on a pair of jeans —flared at the bottom so you didnt need to worry about how your boots would fit.

you kept your faded band t-shirt on and threw your old bloodstained jacket from Highschool on. Reaching under your bed you found the box you were oh so familiar with, opening it to find your mask, it was cracked at the bottom and missing a piece over your right eye. You wasted no time putting it on and making your way to where you needed to be, hoping you wouldn’t bump into Toby or anyone else on the way. Slendermans command fresh in your mind as you locked the door behind you, putting your keys under the porcelain plant pot behind of your house so you wouldn’t lose them.

By the time you finished the job and made your way back to your house it was around 3am and you were out of breath and covered in blood, it was caked under your fingernails and no doubt stuck in your hair covering your already blood caked jacket. Your mask was quickly discarded on the coffee table and you stripped yourself of your clothing on your way to your bathroom, making a mental note to clean up before you went to bed. Making sure no more blood came off of you was your number one priority, not wanting to deal with any stains on your bedroom carpet or bed sheets.

Soon enough you were done and dressed making your way back to where you’d left your clothes and mask, putting your jeans in the washer as well as your shirt. You didnt bother with your jacket, knowing it would just get dirty again you threw it on a hanger in your closet. You returned the mask to the box under your bed before deciding to get the beetlejuice vhs tape from your living room tv so you could fall asleep to it. Making sure you grabbed a glass of water on your way back you took your pills and tucked yourself in, making sure you put the now half empty glass of water on your nightstand just in case.

The next day you were expecting Toby’s stalking to continue but a knock on the door snapped your gaze away from his usual window. You stood up, throwing your blanket off your lap and pausing saw (2004) on your tv. You opened the door, not as surprised when you realized it was toby, missing his usual goggles and muzzle as well as his jacket. Only a black turtle neck covered him, you guessed it didn’t matter what he wore he couldn’t feel the cold anyways.

“What brings you here Toby?” You asked, moving out of the door way to let him in.

“Oh i was just in the- the area and i wanted to see if you wanted to han- to hang out.” His words were cut off by the occasional tic causing him to have to restart a couple words.

You nodded with disinterest before making your way back to your spot on the couch waving for him to follow you. He was picking at his fingers the same way he used to in Highschool, seems like people don’t really change. He used to get blood all over his desk at least once a week you just hoped he didnt do the same with your couch. You pressed play on the remote, Amanda’s cry’s filling the room as she escaped from the reverse bear trap. You got about 20 more minutes into the movie before Toby spoke up.

“Do you have a bath— bathroom?” He questioned, looking over to your focused face.

You gestured down the hall not looking away from the tv, you could tell he nodded before making his way down the hall and He really was going to go to the bathroom but your bedroom door was open and he couldn’t help himself. It had been more than 10 minutes before you realized he was still gone, your face scrunching up in confusion as you paused the tv and got up. You footsteps were quiet, you’d memorized every creaky floorboard in your house for thoes nights with the splitting headaches where even a pin drop sounded like a jackhammer. When you made your way into your room you noticed Toby was hunched over something, a box, your box.

“What the fuck are you doing.” You tried to keep yourself from raising your voice, fists clenched at your sides.

He gasped and dropped the box, turning around trying to come up with something but only gibberish coming out. You started to cross the distance between the both of you, toby scrambling to get his goggles and muzzle out of his pockets. Your face dropped once you realized what was in his hand before a humorous expression crossed your face for a split second.

“What? You thought i didn’t know?” You almost laughed at the stupid expression on his face.

“It doesn’t take a fucking genius ‘ticci toby’.” You finally closed the distance grabbing him by the front of his turtleneck and pulling him up off the ground before pushing him backward onto your bed

His eyes widened as he fell back, looking up at you with slight fear now that he knew what you did,what you were capable of. You’d been a proxy longer than him, you had disappeared a year before him but he thought you might’ve just switched schools. He’d only heard whispers about your work around the mansion, Nobody knew who you were except slenderman and Ej but Ej refused to tell him anything and he only “talked” to slenderman when it came to jobs. To say he was surprised to learn who you really were was an understatement, his hands twitching as you crawled onto of him.

“So heres whats gonna happen, im gonna fuck your brains out and you’re not gonna tell any of your little proxy friends who I am, right?” You smiled —albeit unsettlingly—, your hands sliding under his sweater.

He nodded profusely, his hands moving up so you could successfully take his turtleneck off before sitting up. your hands moved down to unbutton his jeans, the metal digging into your finger. You felt his hands tug at the bottom of your shirt, asking for permission to take it off; you only nodded as confirmation before moving your own arms up. You backed off of him for a moment to pull your pants and underwear down, Toby must’ve gotten the idea as his pants and underwear around his ankles by the time you returned your attention to him and reclaimed your spot on his lap.

A small smirk finding itself on your face as you stroked his cock, a whine leaving his mouth every time you reached the tip. You decide to torture him a bit, focusing on solely the tip just to tease. His thighs tensed under you and his whines got louder, obviously affected by your teasing. After a bit more teasing you decided you were too impatient, taking no time to move further up his lap to slide his cock into you. His neck twitched as well as his hands as you rode his cock a strangled noise pushing its way out of his throat. His hands found their place on your hips, Toby not realizing how hard he was squeezing you worried he was going to leave marks.

“Are you sure..I can’t at least tell—“ he tried to ask but before he could finish you’d gotten the pocket knife from under your pillow and held it to his neck.

“Toby, if you tell anyone i swear i will find you and slit your throat in front of everyone at the slender mansion.” You growled, pushing the knife close to his neck.

He swallowed and nodded babbling out useless words of understanding, neck getting nicked by the knife slightly ad he moved, a bead of blood gathering on the wound. You put the knife on your bedside table, still unsheathed just incase you might need it again. Leaning down you put your mouth to his neck, sucking the blood off his neck as he moaned. You continued fucking him, his noises of desperation and encouragement bringing a sadistic smile to your face as you thought of kicking him out and making him walk back to the mansion with a boner.

It didn’t take long for him to get close to finishing, the knife stunt from earlier clearly excited him. His moans got higher in pitch as he got closer, his nails dug into you with a new found sense of purpose. You could feel him forcing your hips up and down every time you slid yourself on his cock, you couldn’t help but dig your own nails into him —not that he minded. You could tell he was going to cum soon, if the high pitched moans werent a good enough sign his erratic twitching was. His fingers twitched against your skin making him loosen his grip on your hips only to tighten them back up as he came, bucking his hips into you. You let out a groan as you came, riding out your high before sliding off him and laying down to his left.

“Am i allowed to stay—stay here or should i leave.” Toby whispered from beside you, looking in your direction.

“I don’t care what you do.” You answered honestly, getting up to make your way to the shower, missing Tobys smile as he got up to join you.

—

Belongs to rat6ix

#sixfics!#ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x reader #weird!reader #proxy! reader #ticci toby smut #toby rodgers x reader #creepypasta smut

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mercyk1ll3r · 8 months ago

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Bats and Axes

Pairing; Ticci toby x proxy!femreader

Summary; a couple months after becoming a proxy, a strange boy sparks your interest.

Warnings; slightly graphic violence, psychopathic reader, not much for first chap tbh.

Wc; 1k+

Credits; axe & bone header - menschenopfer, blood dividers - bucciniexe, caution tape - cafekitsune.

a/n; this will most likely be a multiple part series if you guys r interested in reading it :3 (lowercase intended, idgaf about grammer if i'm writing for fun)

"kill them" the voice pounded in your head, sending shivers down your body and tingling in all your limbs. causing you to grip you head and shake violently at the slightest thought of disobeying.

you could feel his presence engulf and fog your brain, making you nothing but a zombie, a puppet to him. your legs move before you can process. the tingling not ceasing, you can hardly feel your body or collect your thoughts. just a fog as you try to get a hold of yourself or form a coherent thought other then killing.

unsurprisingly your legs take you bolting towards the couple walking a little too closely for comfort near slenderman's mansion, swinging your bat ruthlessly into the woman's face. screams erupting from the both of them, in one of the most pure animalistic sounds humans can create, the sound of pure terror, you cant help but let a smile creep onto your face. this was your favorite part of your job.

you limp your way back to the mansion, now covered in blood and completely exhausted, atleast taking the time to dip your metal bat into the nearby stream.

finally arriving back in your bedroom and stripping off your ruined clothing that reek of death and changing into fresh ones, you crash into your bed. shaking slightly from all the adrenaline still pumping through your body.

you shoot up still on edge as u hear a knock on your door, "cmon y/n you left you leftovers outside, when will you learn to clean up after yourself?" sighing with annoyance you open your door, meeting eyes with ben. he was always fucking bothering you about something, yet he was still one of your best friends, you cant be too picky around here and you guys shared some interests. "wasn't me ben sorry." you say sighing and returning to the comfort of your bed, your body still aching.

"which other proxy kills people by completely bashing their faces in?" u turn around to face him with a defeated expressed, "okay fine it was me, can't i just leave it for EJ?" he just looks at you with that insufferable expression he always does "okay fine i'll go, i'll go!"

wandering back outside the mansion you set your course for the couples mangled bodies, as you reach the area you see a boy you don't recognize. he stands above the bodies seemingly just inspecting them, you grip you bat a bit tighter as you inch closer. "thi-iss your handywork?" as he speaks he turns up to look at you, granting you a better look at his face, seemingly unaffected by your presence, he must be a proxy.

"uhm.. yeah, i was coming to get the bodies." this boy unnerved you, sickly grey skin and a metal cage mask around his mouth showing very little of his mouth, two hatchets hanging low on his hips. "you must be.." his breathy and hoarse voice interrupted by his neck jerking violently to the side. "be a n-new proxy then"

you weren't exactly new, although it was hard to tell. memories of your old life becoming cloudy and harder to recall each day that passed, it had atleast been a couple months though. "new enough not to have met you i guess.." he tilts his head at you stepping over the bodies until there was an uncomfortable lack of distance between you two, what the fuck was this guys problem?

he scans your face seemingly as you meet his brown eyes, pupils blown wide and crazy, before he glanced down to your metal baseball bat. "i'm toby, i'm sure w-we'll be seeing eachother ah-around" he stares blanky at your face waiting for your reaction as he towered over you. "y/n" is all u say as he gives you a slight nod and steps past you, heading in the direction of the mansion.

there was something about this guy.. he was kinda creepy but something about him made you replay the moment over and over again, thinking of his wild eyes staring down at you. you try to shake off the weird interaction and step forward to the bloodied bodies.

"oh yeah, i think toby's back now, he was off on an assignment for a couple months." ben spoke as he continued mashing his controller buttons. he insisted you come over and play mario kart with him after he finally got his hands on a copy. "yeah i met him earlier.. what's his deal? he kinda freaks me out."

"do you remember that huge fire in that happened a couple years ago in the suburbs? totally whipped out the entire neighborhood, killed most of the people inside the houses too."

"oh yeah.. some girl who was in my math class died, she was all my school was talking about for weeks, endless assemblies and memorials." you surprise yourself with the words coming out of your mouth, the memory fleeting and fuzzy.

"well that was toby, killed his dad and set his house on fire. one time i saw him without a shirt on, he's got a bunch or gnarly burn scars.." ben seemed a little sad as he spoke which was odd because he rarely had any type of sympathy for anyone.

"that's pretty brutal.." is really all you can muster, you don't know what else to say. every proxy has their hands dirty with blood after all.

"ben oh-open up-pp!" you jump a little as you hear someone pounding on the door. "dude chill out, i'm coming." ben rises from his nest of pillows and blankets in front of his shitty old tv and lazily walks to the door.

"hey man, it's been a while." you can barely see who's outside the door, but you already recognize his raspy stutter. "ca-nnn i use your comm-computer?" "uhm yeah i guess, for what?" "for uhh.." he trails off as he seemingly notices your presence, eyes going slightly wide with a flustered expression on his face as you lock eyes.

"uhm nevermind i-i don't need it." he says bringing his eyes back to ben's face before hurrying off in the other direction leaving ben at his open door.

ben closes his door and returns to sitting beside you, "what the fuck was that? he's being so weird, well i mean, weirder then usual." he speaks annoyed before unpausing his game.

a/n: hey guys!! sorry this was short and ended kinda abruptly, i've been having bad writers block completing this -__- but regardless i hope u enjoyed. i'm super excited to continue this story and i already have future chapters planned, (probably gonna be a slowburn sorry guys)

#mercyk1ll3rwrites #ticci toby #creepypasta #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby smut #ticci toby fluff #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fandom #toby erin rogers #toby rogers #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby x female reader

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 months ago

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What Makes You Tick - Chapter 9

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Commissions are open!

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

Masterlist: x

What Makes You Tick Masterlist

Taglist: @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @kindadolly @guineveresghost @cedarwood-05

Divider by @plum98

You wake with a start.

You gasp—choking and coughing with the taste of ashes on your tongue. Your lungs are burning.

Everything aches. Your coughs are dry and scratchy, your throat raw like you’ve been screaming all night. You’re so stiff and sore that it takes you longer than you would’ve liked to sit upright in bed—a bed that isn’t yours.

You try to ignore your searing thirst as you look at your surroundings.

You’ve no idea where you are.

It looks like you’re in the small room of an old, somewhat dilapidated cabin.

The walls are wooden, with various kinds of marks and imperfections etched into it. Dark stains are splattered about, with the occasional cobweb clinging to the nooks and crannies of the room.

The place is small, with just barely enough space for the double bed you’ve woken up in. There’s a nightstand flush between the bed and the wall, and a single square window above it. The only other pieces of furniture are a wooden drawer and a coat rack.

None of it looks familiar.

You try to recall how you ended up here. The last thing you remember is walking through the woods with the masked men. And then you remember being afraid, and feeling that now-unfortunately-familiar knot of dread at the pit of your stomach like you were about to die. You remember heat like you’ve never felt before.

Vague memories of a giant spider resurface, its legs long and spindly like the twisted branches of old trees coiling together. But you’re not certain if you’re remembering the remnants of an old dream, or if it actually has anything to do with reality.

You flinch, cradling your head as a migraine threatens to split your head open.

Everything hurts. You’re sore and thirsty and hungry, and you just feel wrong.

You plant your feet on the floor, only for a wave of dizziness and nausea to wash over you. When you try to breathe through it, another fit of coughs wrack through your diaphragm.

The taste of blood tickles the back of your throat.

You swallow it down.

When the coughing subsides, you stand.

Another wave of dizziness overtakes you, black dots blotting your vision, but after a few slow and steady breaths, it eventually dissipates.

You tread over the frayed rustic carpet. Every step hurts. When you look down, you realize why.

You look like you’ve been through hell and back.

Your clothes are torn. The pants you’d been given have holes at the knees, with the ends filthy with something dark and crusted that you hope is only dirt and nothing else. Your skin is scraped and bruised with dirt caked into the wounds. There’s dried blood beneath your fingernails.

What happened?

You look down at your hands, filthy and scabbed over with fresh wounds, and for a brief moment, you get the strange feeling that this isn’t your body. You don’t feel like yourself.

You shake your head, as if it could clear the feeling away.

Deep breaths; it’ll pass.

You know that you probably should wait for the unease to fade, but you really don’t want to. You want to leave this place—wherever you are—as soon as possible. So even though you’re as dazed as you are, you still make it to the door, open it wide and leave.

And you immediately collide with something hard and warm—another person.

In your already unstable state, the collision is more than enough to knock you off-balance. You fall and tumble over—until a pair of hands reach out to gently steady you.

“Woah—e-easy, easy.”

You don’t know whether you should be relieved or apprehensive as you recognize who you bumped into.

He’s warm.

You don’t know why that—of all things—is the first thought that comes to mind.

You’ve been away from normal people—normal civilization—for too long, you think. And it’s messing with your head—because there’s no way in hell you’d otherwise find comfort in the arms of a killer.

And yet, here you are, trying to resist the urge to lean into him, and have him wrap his hands around you and hold you tightly and tell you that it’s going to be ok. That he won’t let anything happen to you.

As soon as the idea comes to mind, you shove away from him. Something hot and sticky like guilt and humiliation churns in your gut.

“Where are we?”

Your question comes out snappy and irritated to compensate for how you'd previously gravitated towards him. And, without waiting for his answer, you push past him to stumble out of the room.

But you move too quickly and too suddenly, and those black dots return before you can even make it through the doorframe.

“W-woah, easy—“

His hands are on you again, and you open your mouth to tell him to stop, but your legs buckle beneath you. Darkness overtakes your vision for what feels like a fraction of a second, and when you snap out of it, you’re suddenly sitting on the bed, and he’s holding your hands and kneeling before you.

And he’s flipped one of the lenses of his goggles up.

Just like the first time, seeing part of his face unobstructed has your breath catching in your throat.

A thin ray of sunlight pierces through the dirty window and catches in his eye. It reflects the warmest, most honeyed tone of golden brown you’ve ever seen, and when he shifts just a certain way, you notice the flecks of green amongst the golden colour framing his dark irises.

It’s like you forget how to breathe.

His eye crinkles slightly, like he’s smiling beneath his mouthguard, and you realize that neither of you have said anything for the past few seconds, and you’ve just been staring into his eyes and holding your breath like you’re expecting something.

“Stop touching me,” you order with a shaky exhale as soon as you realize what’s happening.

“I—oh.”

His smile falls, and, much to your relief, so do his hands.

“Where are we?”

Every word hurts to pronounce as you repeat the question. Your throat aches. When you swallow, you taste blood again.

“You—you’re home. It’s—it’s ok, you don’t need to be—be—scared. You’re safe here.”

There’s this sweet, earnest kind of look in his eye. Like he wants nothing more than to reassure you, and make sure you’re ok.

You’re anything but ok.

“Listen, I—I just want to go home. I swear I—I don’t have anything to do with this. I’m not who you’re looking for—I don’t know anything about what you’re after.”

He’s quiet for a moment longer than you’d like. And then he stands, extends a hand out to help you up, and nods to the door.

“Come, you must be hungry.”

You look at his hand. He isn’t wearing his gloves, and you can see hints of his freckled skin peaking out from the sleeve of his hoody.

You don’t take his offer.

Instead, you stand, wrap your arms around yourself, and wait expectantly for him to show you the way.

He clears his throat, jerks his head to the side, his eye twitching, and then he says something beneath his breath, turns, and heads out the room.

The door opens to a hallway, which is devoid of any kind of material comfort or decoration, and you can’t help but wonder how long this guy has been living here.

You wonder if this place is also abandoned—like that hotel—and if this is just how he lives; killing people and hopping around from one abandoned place to the next to avoid the police.

You shudder, carefully keeping an eye on him as you follow behind.

Everything about this man, you realize, is a mystery.

Besides his name, you don’t know much else about him. You know that you’re treading dangerous territory; the more you get involved, the harder it’ll be to return to your normal life. But, at the same time, knowing the base minimum might be the only thing that ultimately saves your skin.

The hallway eventually opens up to a living room, and you nearly stop dead in your tracks when you see it; Masky’s there.

His mask is pushed halfway to the side so that it’s still covering most of his face, but his mouth is exposed. He has sideburns and a stubble, and you’re not certain if the facial hair is because he hasn’t had time to shave, or if he’s just too lazy to maintain himself.

He’s holding a can of beer in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other. Something about him looks casual, almost relaxed. And it feels… off.

Like the lions have let a lamb walk freely through their den.

He doesn’t acknowledge you or Toby as you walk by, and Toby doesn’t acknowledge him, either.

You wonder if they live together, and how long they’ve been living together, and, most of all, why. From what you can tell, they can’t stand one another’s guts; you can’t imagine they make good roommates.

When you walk past the living room, you catch a glimpse of what’s playing on the tv. And a hard pit of dread solidifies in your stomach—like this place just isn’t right—when you notice he’s just watching static.

Past the living room, another door leads to the kitchen. It’s furnished with the bare minimum to make it liveable; a small wooden table, a few chairs haphazardly scattered around it, a trash can and a few basic appliances sitting on the counters.

The fridge, yellowed with age, buzzes with electricity as Toby opens it.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

He pulls out a bag of sliced bread with obvious green and blue patches of mold eating through it. You peek over his shoulder at the other contents of the fridge, but there’s nothing else inside besides a few dozen beers, some plastic water bottles, and some condiments.

He looks at you looking inside the fridge. And he almost seems… embarrassed as he gestures at the bag of moldy bread.

“There—there might be a few good slices left, if you want…”

You don’t know whether you should feel bad for him or for yourself, or both.

You eye the bread, and your stomach tightens with hunger.

How long has it been?

It feels like it’s been days since your last meal. And, considering the way things have been going recently—with your getting jostled from one location to the next—the threat of starvation seems more real than ever.

Maybe you could check if there’s a good piece left…

You’re considering whether or not you’re ready to sink to that level, when something’s thrown onto the table.

You jump at the sudden noise, spinning around to find none other than Hoodie leaning against the doorframe.

He isn’t wearing his hoody, which, again, makes this whole thing seem much more casual than it feels. Instead, a simple black tee compresses rather flatteringly around his chest and biceps, and you’re, admittedly, relieved that he’s still wearing his mask.

“Quality nutrition.”

He snickers the words out—the same words you’d snapped at Masky, and embarrassment floods your face.

“Yes!” Toby celebrates, and you hear the distinct crinkling of a takeout bag being opened. “You get me the all-day breakfast?”

When you turn your attention back to him, you find him tearing through a greasy brown bag with a big yellow “M” printed on it.

Your mouth waters. You don’t think you’ve ever been more excited to eat takeout in your life.

Hoodie doesn’t indulge him with an answer. Instead, all he says as he walks away is, “You owe me 40.”

“40 bucks?” Toby repeats incredulously. “What do you mean 40 bucks??” he exclaims after him, “It’s just McDonalds!”

From the other room over, you hear Hoodie’s muffled reply of “inflation,” and then Toby’s shaking his head and muttering about the prices of things these days, all while splitting the food between the two of you.

You waste no time digging in.

Toby unwraps his burger, and he’s about to pull his mouthguard down to take a bite.

You pause mid-chew.

And, at the sound of your silence, he looks up at you. He notices you watching him, and then it seems to click that he was about to reveal his face.

He flushes—you see it in the way the top part of his cheeks redden. And then he puts the food down, flicks the lens of his goggles so that you can no longer see part of his face, and tosses his half-wrapped burger to you.

“Eat.”

You can’t tell if he’s faking the bite of frustration in his voice, or if he’s actually angry at you.

As if it’s your fault he almost revealed his identity to you.

Even if he is mad at you, you’re too hungry to care.

The first few times you swallow, no matter how much you chew, feels like nails scraping down your throat. The only thing that alleviates the pain is when Toby tosses you a water bottle from the fridge—and you nearly chug it all at once.

You’re making your way through the fries when the brain fog is starting to lift. With every bit of food hitting your empty stomach, you feel increasingly lucid, until you’re just clear-minded enough to try to figure things out.

"What is this place?" you ask, "Where are we?"

“…Home.”

He doesn’t elaborate on his answer as he sits down in front of you.

He leans back, fingers toying with the sides of his seat, and then he’s pushing off to balance on the two hind legs of the chair. You wonder how many times his teachers had to tell him to stop doing that as a kid.

You don’t think he ever listened.

"Where?” you press the question, “What city—what country?"

"...Does it really matter?"

You pause, then realize there’s no point in answering that question. You take another sip of water.

"When can you bring me back?”

"Bring you—bring you back where?"

"Home."

"This is home."

You're not getting anywhere.

You take a breath.

“This isn’t my home, this is your home. When can you bring me back to my place?”

You should be scared.

You’ve woken up in a strange place with strange men, and your body is bruised and beaten, and definitely in some kind of survival mode, at this point. You’re hungry and tired, and the last few days of your life have felt like nothing short of a nightmare.

But you’re too wrecked to even be scared anymore. It feels like a bitter seed of anger has been planted within you, and it’s slowly spreading its roots through the dirt of your agony.

“This is your home,” he reiterates, and then before you can keep arguing with him, he suddenly snaps his chair forwards. “Listen, whether you like it or not, this is—this is it, right now. Th—the best—the best thing you can do is j—is j—is just trust me right now, ok?”

You open your mouth.

Trust him?

Trust a murderer, a kidnapper—a criminal who’s done God-knows what else to innocent people? Trust the person who’s responsible for dragging you into this whole mess in the first place?

You close your mouth before you can keep arguing. Before you can upset him any further.

And when he sees you silently going back to eating, he sighs, deflating a little.

“I know…” he quietly hesitates, his voice low, “I know this seems… like a bit of a mess right now. I know… I know you don’t—don’t really understand anything. And—and I know it must be—must be pretty jarring t—to wake up in a house with—with people who won’t even show you their—their—show you their face.”

You, again, don’t indulge him with an answer. You don’t even lift your eyes up to look at him.

“But… but you have to trust me. Please… please trust me.”

He’s begging.

It finally has you lifting your gaze to look at him, but you still can’t read him through the mask.

He might as well be sneering at you right now, and you’d have no way of knowing.

How could you ever trust him?

“Toby…” you reluctantly start, “I dont... I'm not whatever you're looking for,” you reiterate. “I—" you shake your head, searching for the right way to phrase your thoughts. “You have the wrong person…”

He’s quiet for a moment.

His shoulder jerks and twitches, and he whistles that one note you'd previously heard him whistle, but he otherwise stays silent.

You wish you knew what he was thinking. You wish you knew what the hell was going on.

“I know you don’t understand,” he starts, spelling out every syllable like he’s choosing his words very carefully. “But you’re… you’re exactly what I—what we've been looking for."

You feel sick.

You push the food away.

“I—I’m not—“ you shake your head again, pursing your lips. “I—I don’t know anything. I lied about knowing the neighbour—I don’t know anything about her, or about the secrets she kept, or—or anything at all. I was just trying to save my skin, I—“

You shake your head again, at a complete loss for words.

And then eventually, all you say is, “I promise I won’t say a word about any of this if you just bring me back.”

He hesitates.

And then, finally, he answers, his voice strained, just barely above a whisper.

“There’s... there's no going back anymore.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #crp

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uncannydevotion · 7 months ago

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a/n: i've been thinking abt this request a lot lately so i've decided to finally write it. only took me two million years <3

includes: ticci toby, the bloody painter, x-virus, and homicidal liu.

warnings: not proofread i am writing this all in one sitting let's hope it's good, attempted murder against the reader in toby's part, angst! :jazz hands:, injuries, blood, panic attack in toby's part?? kinda?? you could call it that or you could say slender was doin some weird shit to his head, mentions of murder, mentions of past bullying, stalking, helen's kinda obsessed, unhealthy relationships, dead parents, needles, whatever the fuck cody injects into people, very morally ambiguous reader in cody's part, brief but slightly descriptive murder, randy is a warning i guess, mentions of fire, mentions of near death experiences, cigarettes, a gun, sully points a gun at reader but there's no real attempt of murder, a test to see how much i remember jeff's story cause i am Not rereading it it's 3am as im writing this.

TICCI TOBY

You really don't know what had compelled you to go into the forest so late at night. No... no, that's a lie. You do know. You knew exactly what had brought you to this forest.

Maybe you were crazy but you could've sworn you had seen your childhood friend at the edge of the forest near the cemetery the other night. It's so stupid, you knew that.

He's been missing for years now, classified as on the run after brutally killing his father, but you just... you had to know.

That's why you had entered the forest that night. No one else would be around, but... you really should've thought ahead, honestly. You should've brought a pocket knife, or some mace, or anything.

But how were you supposed to know that you would end up getting chased through the woods by a fucking crazy guy with hatchets? You don't even know where he came from, he just threw one of the hatchets at you and narrowly missed!

Consider yourself lucky, or whatever, but he seemed fairly determined to kill you.

You hid behind a thick tree, taking a moment to catch your breath. You're not sure how deep in the forest you had gone, but the area was starting to look familiar, so you assumed that you were getting close to the cemetery connected to the town.

But he was catching up to you, and fast. It's not like you could just fight him off, he had the advantage with, y'know, the hatchets.

Quick thinking is what leads to you grabbing a fairly sturdy branch from the ground. It was heavy, but you didn't have the luxury of caring about that right now as you pressed your back against the tree, forcing yourself to steady your breathing.

The sound of tongue clicking was familiar, and it grew closer and closer. You could hear leaves and twigs being stepped on. Cautiously, you took a glance around the tree. The man's back was turned towards you, but he was looking around.

Looking for you.

You knew this was the one chance you had, so you tried to be extra quiet as you approached him, raising the branch up high and using all your strength to knock him over the head with it.

The man falls to his knees, and as soon as he dropped his hatchets, you dropped the branch and snatched the weapons away, throwing them somewhere deeper in the forest just so he wouldn't be able to use them to hurt you.

Now, you knew you should've ran. He was no longer a threat, but... the tics, the way he didn't react to the pain of getting hit over the head like you thought he would've... he seemed dizzy, sure, but he was bleeding. He wasn't clutching his head, he wasn't hissing in pain.

It was all familiar, and it reminded you of...

"Toby?" You sounded breathless, chest heaving as you stared down at him.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, and behind his cracked goggles, you can see the way his eyes widened. Even though most of his face was concealed, you could see the...

Fear? Confusion? You're not sure what emotion it was, but it was so evident in the way he recoils from you when you reach out to him.

"Toby... what-" You couldn't even get another word out before he was interrupting you.

"No! No. No. I don't kn–click–know you." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he sounded pained. Not from the injury you had given him, but... as if there were something else.

You really don't know what's happening, all you knew was that the man you had considered to be your best friend when you were younger had just tried killing you, and is acting as if he doesn't know you.

No... not acting. His confusion, the lack of recognition, it was all real.

You couldn't get another word in before he was breaking down, clutching his head as if something was screaming inside it, "I don't know you! I don't know you!"

The pure agony in his voice had you stumbling back. Clearly, your presence wasn't helping him. Guilt clawed at your insides, and even though you didn't want to leave him like this, even though you wanted to figure out what had happened all those years ago, you knew you had no choice.

You stumbled out of the forest, the sound of Toby screaming echoing around you.

And though it was faint, you swore you heard static as well.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

Being friends with Helen had been hard, even before he killed almost the entirety of his class. He rarely ever spoke to you, and half of the time you wondered if he even thought of you as his friend.

You stood up for him against people like Judy and Ban, but there was only so much you could do.

There was one memory that you always thought of, even after you had grown up. It was the night before the school's Halloween party, and you had dropped by Helen's house to get his help on picking out a costume.

He had seemed... really distracted, that night. He wasn't fully there. When you asked him if he was okay, he just...

"Promise me that you'll stay my friend, no matter what happens."

It had caught you off guard, but you had made the promise. The next night, he killed his classmates before your parents dropped you off at the school. You didn't see him after that, because your parents refused to let you associate with him.

And now, years later, something was wrong.

You had heard from Helen's mother, months ago, that he had been released from the institution he had been in, apparently no longer a danger to himself or others, but he just...

Disappeared. Cut all contact.

And shortly after his release, you heard from an old friend that Judy and Maggie, two of the few classmates that had survived the massacre, had gone missing, along with the other three survivors.

Something deep down in your gut told you that it was Helen. When the bodies of the missing had been found inside of Helen's childhood home, you just knew.

You should've gone to the police, really, but it's not like they didn't already know. There was a manhunt out for Helen the moment the bodies were found, but he was long gone.

It's not like you had to be worried or anything, right? You were in a completely different state, living in a large city. You haven't spoken to him since you were kids, and it's not like he knew where you were at, right?

Well, you were wrong, apparently.

When the stalking started, you didn't want to believe it was Helen. I mean, seriously, why would he want anything to do with you? Unless...

You didn't want to think about it, but... he had gone back and killed all the survivors of his original massacre. And... you were technically a survivor, if only because you were late to the party. He didn't plan on killing you, did he?

Though, that fear was quickly squashed when he started leaving you gifts. They were nothing major, mostly sketches of you. They weren't signed, but you knew who they were from.

The feeling of eyes on you was something you just couldn't get used to, and you swear you started seeing him when you were out in the city.

You wanted to go to a bookstore? Helen was across the street. Taking a walk in the park? You swear you saw him sitting on a bench, sketching.

It felt as if you were going insane, honestly.

You... you really should have gone to the police, you think, when you got home one night to find your roommate hanging from the ceiling, their neck slit and their blood painted all over the walls.

In your roommates blood, on your wall, a heart was painted, followed by a question mark. Was this... a love confession? Was he asking if you loved him?

When you took a step back, towards the front door, you had bumped right into him. He was on you in an instant, and his hand covered your mouth to prevent your scream from being heard by anyone.

"Shh... I'm not going to hurt you. We made a promise, remember?"

X-VIRUS

Living at an orphanage had never been easy. You still remember the day you first arrived. Your parents had both died, and you had pretty much closed yourself away from everyone, refusing to interact with any of the other kids.

The caretakers had been concerned, especially when the other kids had started picking on you for being quiet and 'weird'.

In comes Cody, a kid your age with absolutely no filter and no regard for what was considered right or wrong. To this day, you still don't know what it was about you that made him hang around, but the moment he got to the orphanage, he was by your side almost all the time.

Whenever one of the other kids messed with you, they'd always end up getting injured in some way because of Cody.

Cody was the only person you were willing to speak to, other than the caretakers. He brought you out of your shell, and made you laugh with his stupid, poor-timed jokes. You even became his nurse, essentially, patching up his wounds whenever he got into fights over you.

The day he was adopted was the worst day of your life, you think. It's the first time you cried since your parents died, and you remember clinging onto him, begging him not to leave you.

It was a pretty embarrassing memory, to be honest.

You weren't as lucky as Cody had been. No family was interested in adopting you, and you ended up aging out of the orphanage. Life never got better for you, even after you left the orphanage.

You didn't have many friends, and your coworkers all tended to avoid you because of how apathetic you were. Truth be told, you didn't have any interest in anything.

Every single day, from the moment Cody had been taken from you, was literal hell in your mind. The loneliness, the constant doubts, the self-loathing, everything. It was so much. Almost too much, at times.

But that all changed when you were walking back to your dingy apartment one night after a late shift. You lived in a fairly unsafe area, but the rent was cheap, so you couldn't complain.

Walking by an alleyway, something caught your attention.

It was cliché, honestly. You didn't care if anyone might have been in trouble, but a morbid curiosity got the better of you when you heard someone crying for help.

Taking a stroll down the alleyway, you reached the end and saw something you truly weren't expecting. A man was laying on the ground, a headwound visible while another man stood over him, fiddling with a needle and some sort of liquid you didn't recognize.

"Would you shut up? There's nobody around to hear you,"

That... that voice...

Your eyes widened, but not because you just witnessed some poor guy get injected with a suspicious liquid.

The injured man starts gasping, and foaming at the mouth. Your eyes meet, and he reaches out to you, croaking for help. You just stand there, watching as the man died.

And when you look up, you meet the gaze of the man who killed him. But you weren't scared. You should be, you knew that, but you weren't.

Cody pulls down the mask he was wearing. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see you, almost as if he knew you had been watching.

"Miss me?" He asks. He was smiling, as if he hadn't just killed someone. So many questions were swirling in your mind, but the only thing you could really focus on was the fact that Cody was here, in front of you.

For the first time in years, you smile.

"Yeah."

HOMICIDAL LIU

When a new family moved in next door with two boys close to your age, your parents had practically forced you to go over and introduce yourself to them, trying to get you to make friends.

You weren't at all interested, but you also didn't want to get in trouble, so once they had settled in, you went with them to be neighborly.

Liu and Jeff were the names of the kids. Liu was the older one, only a few months younger than you, and as mean as it was, you were definitely more interested in hanging out with Liu more than his little brother.

It's not that you hated him or anything like that, but... you were a kid, y'know? The thought of hanging out with someone younger than you, even if only by three years, was weird. It's something you felt guilty about now, as an adult, but it's not like you could change the past.

Besides, you and Liu weren't even friends. Not when you two had first met, at least.

You walked to school with him, and you had a few classes together at school, but you already had your own group of friends, and you just weren't interested in making any new ones.

It wasn't until his brother started to get bullied that you two started to develop a bond. You were one of the few people who didn't tolerate Randy's bullshit, so you never hesitated to stand up for Jeff when you were around.

Liu liked that about you.

When he had gotten arrested after falsely confessing to beating up Randy and his goons, you did your best to protect Jeff while he was gone.

To this day, you can't help but blame yourself for everything that happened. The day Jeff had been lit on fire, you had been stuck at home because of the flu. You still remember the scream of pure agony you heard from his mother next door when she got the call.

There were many things you wish you had done differently back then, but alas. Time marched forward.

As far as you knew, Liu died that night Jeff brutally killed his entire family, and you made sure to visit his grave whenever you had time to spare.

Today was one of those days. The sky was filled with clouds, and you had bought some flowers.

Everyone in town viewed the Woods family in a negative light because of the terror Jeff had caused, and still continues to cause to this day, so their graves don't get taken care of.

You do the best you can, but it's hard to prevent neighborhood kids from vandalizing the grave every other week.

But you were pleasantly surprised to find someone sitting behind Liu's tombstone, smoking a cigarette. You had thought that maybe it was an estranged family member, maybe, but as you approached, you couldn't help but notice that the scarf around their neck was eerily similar to the one Liu had gotten a few weeks before his death.

"Uhm, hello?" You call out, curious as to who this visitor could possibly be.

You did not expect for a gun to be pointed at you.

You blink, staring at the gun for a moment, too bewildered to register the fact that you should probably be scared. Hell, you didn't even have much of a chance to register the gun before you found yourself more distracted by the person holding it.

He looked... eerily familiar.

The scarf. The scars littered across his face, on his neck. They reminded you of the reports you read about the wounds Liu had sustained before dying in the hospital.

It was stupid. There's no way it's actually him. No way. He didn't even seem to recognize you. He had a fucking gun pointing at you, for crying out loud!

This was not Liu.

So why did he feel like him?

"...Liu?"

Your voice caused his gaze to change. The gun lowered slightly, his brows pinching together. And in a split second, it's as if he was a different person entirely, the way his eyes widened in recognition.

His gaze dropped to the gun that he had been pointing at you, and he looked absolutely mortified, dropping it and the cigarette he had been smoking.

"I can explain." He says, but he honestly seemed just as lost as you were.

...It was going to be a long night.

#requests from the old blog.#creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader #the bloody painter x reader #x virus x reader #homicidal liu x reader

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cyberluvzu · 1 year ago

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TICCI TOBY DATING HEADCANONS

Ticci toby x reader

Hello people, I haven't written in years but I have some spare time and have been DROOLING over Toby lately so I thought that I could do this.

(please go easy on me I literally haven't wrote anything like this in 2 years)

- COMPLETE LOSERRRR

- Absolutely no dating experience at all

- You're his first everything

- And because you're his first everything, he gets incredibly nervous when it comes to doing new romantic things ( especially something physical)

- He wants to do all the cute couple things with you but he's scared that he's gonna end up scaring you off or making you uncomfortable

- At the beginning of the relationship he would probably be so awkward

- You'd go to hug him and he'd just stand there like🧍

- Don't get me wrong he appreciates the affection, he just doesn't know how to respond because he hasn't had a good relationship with physical touch

- After a couple of months he would slowly start to be more open to physical affection and being more romantic

- Just give the man some time

- When you get to the point of being completely comfortable with eachother he goes CRAZY BRO

- When he does get comfortable he is constantly on your ass

- He comes back from missions and immediately wants to go to sleep with you in his arms

- Bro doesn't even care if he's all bloody, he WILL have you

- You will have to pry him off of you and get him in the shower, or at least change his clothes

- After you get him to clean up he is all over you

- Holds you so close and just knocks the fuck out

- I also like to think that he'll bring you little knick knacks when he goes out

- Flowers, cool rocks, maybe a couple of things he got stole when he was in town!

- He's kinda like a crow

- In the sense of, if he likes you, you're gonna get some stuff

- He likes going on walks with you, it's nice just being alone with you, away from his life

- Is somewhat totally obsessed with you

- When he's not with you he is always thinking of you

- On his mind 24/7

- Totally infatuated with you, loves you completely.

- Has an irrational fear that he might lose you and doesn't want you to ever leave him, because you're the best thing that's happened to him

- Gets jealous, but not in the aggressive way, at least not with you

- Might go kill that person that was hitting on you, but you don't need to know that!

- Will absolutely be passive aggressive with you though

- Says little things to let you know that he's still upset at you

- He just worries he'll lose you to someone else

- Someone give bro a hug already

- Speaking of that, he absolutely adores your hugs, wants to stay in your arms forever

- He likes hugging you from behind

- He also really likes to silently creep up behind you and scare the shit out of you, but ends up giving you a hug to make up for it

- He just loves you

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

GUYS IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR Y'ALL TO REQUEST 😭🙏

I'm literally so in the mood for writing about silly little characters now, I have so so many more headcanons for Toby and all of the other pastas, but I'm gonna post this because I've delayed doing it for a while because I'm irrationally nervous 😭

#ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby creepypasta #toby erin rogers #ticci toby x reader

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twee3bee3 · 24 days ago

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SILENT NIGHT (TICCI TOBY X READER)

first creepypasta fic... kinda nervous..

WARNING!! reader is a stoner and is stoned

Tags: Established friendship but Toby likes you, mAYBE you like him back it's ur depiction, cheek kisses, pure fluff, fuggler stuffy, Toby thinking of you, I have no clue what I'm doing, reader has their own house, how the fuck do I tag.

OKAY FIC UNDER THE CUT OKAY BYE

What the fuck was he even doing here...

It's late. Not for him but for you it definitely would be. He raised his knuckle and knocked, a small crack on the side of his neck appearing out of nervousness as he tried to calm himself down, staring at the familiar sight of your door.

He looked down at the floor beneath him, embarrassed about everything that was bound to happen. He'd give you the stupid plush that reminded him of you when he was out slashing a family in the woods, and then you'd be offended and insult him before slamming the door in his face.

This was stupid. He was stupid.

______________________

You were sprawled out on your couch in the living room of your tiny but functional home, head rolled back with a blunt between your lips, completely out of it before hearing a few knocks on your door.

Being brought back to life from your stoned out consciousness, you eventually arise and plucked the joint from your mouth between two fingers and put it out against the fabric of your sofa before walking over to your door, staring at the wood for a few moments before slowly twisting the doorknob to be met with the sight of Toby.

-- "H... huh-EY, Y/n..." He stuttered out, looking like a dog who was ashamed of something they had done without their owner knowing, a subtle pout beneath his lips as he avoided eye contact. "So... h-OWW ar-rrre yo-you...?" He asked shyly, out of character for the usual hyper energetic boy.

"Stoned out of my mind." You replied while blinking slowly off into the distance of the black night sky... what were the stars made of? You learned it in a lecture one time.. it was.. uhh--

"Uh-ngh, I-I wanted to b-buh-bbring you som-sometthing I pick-ed up..." He muttered before shoving a weird... kinda ugly plushie onto your hands, his face sunburnt red as he kept his gaze avoided.

Your attention was brought back as you steadied your iris on the fuggler, your blank expression slowly morphing as your lips curved up to Toby's delight as you squished the head of the stuffie harshly into your chest, beginning your intoxicated giggles as you pulled the plush away just to stare at it for a few moments as Toby stood in front, observing without saying a thing, afraid to ruin the moment as he held back tics.

"This." You began before continuing. "... Is so stupid. I like it a lot." You mumbled before reaching up and plucking the unmarked side of his face as you leaned down to press a quick kiss to his rough oily skin before backing up and shutting the door in his face, falling down onto your sofa with the stuffy still in your hands while heat ran through your face, happy high snickers and laughter echoing throughout your home.

Tobias stood outside, staring at the wood in awe from the kiss as he was a little thankful that he wasn't in your vision anymore because you definitely would've teased him for being so red. His calloused fingers were resting by his side before another sharp tic struck him, reminding him that he should probably get back home now. But he'd be back. Soon... Hopefully when you are sober.

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crushedsweets · 5 months ago

Note

How do you think Toby got the name Ticci Toby, do you think it was given to him by bullies or like the press after he became a k!ller/proxy. Or both?

I think it started with bullies when he was in elementary school, and when the press began interviewing people in their town, the name came back

I Imagine when he heard it making rounds again he was hella mad cuz like. Seriously. They have his full name they’re just being dicks

I don’t think he gets called ticci toby much nowadays, if at all…again, his full name was released very quickly after his dads murder, so that’s what people used

He’s definitely not parading it around like a title he’s proud of, but i don’t believe hearing the name holds some deep traumatic feelings and stress. Irks him a lot. If someone like Jeff were to call him that, he would start a fight. If someone like clocky did, he’d just tell her to knock it off cuz it’s not funny

#asks #creeped

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sister-lucifer · 6 months ago

Text

An Epoch of Horticulture: Chapter One

[Masterlist]

Ticci Toby x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Slow burn, fluff

Summary: An odd figure slinks into your apothecary on a rainy day

Content/warnings: Profanity, a bit of awkward conversation, my personal headcanons about Toby + his disabilities, I made up some magic fantasy plants for this so don’t think too hard about it, thankies

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors.

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged.

If you like this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.

The rain has been falling nonstop since dawn. Not once has the endless patter of water on the roof of your apothecary ceased, or even slowed. Now and then you glance out the window at the stubborn clouds, willing them to move, but they refuse.

You’ve busied yourself with menial tasks today; scrubbing the counter, reorganizing your tools, alphabetizing your seeds. Despite your silent hope, though, not one customer has come through. Bad weather means no foot traffic—you know that, but it’s still a fair bit disappointing. For the fifth time today, you debate closing up shop early. You can’t help feeling a bit dejected. It’s not easy running a small business like this, and every sale matters.

Your little apothecary is quaint, but you’ve poured your heart and soul into making it exactly to your vision. On the front of the building is your hand-painted sign, the name “The Zenith” proudly proclaimed in a perfect forest green, and by the door sits your rainwater catchers. Inside, you’ve stacked the shelves full of anything that can be potted, and racks for drying herbs and flowers hang on either side of the shop. Behind your counter, on the furthest wall, are locked cabinets for keeping the more expensive wares, and you even have your own greenhouse through the back door. This place means so much to you—seeing it so empty is disheartening.

You heave a heavy sigh as you trudge to the door, deciding to just give up for today. The rain shows no signs of stopping, and that means no one will be coming in. You can always try again tomorrow, right?

You reach up to turn the sign on the door from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ Just as your fingers touch the wood, though, you pause. An odd sound has caught your attention. You only recognize it as the sound of frantic footsteps on the wet cobblestone for a split second.

In a flash, a dark figure appears from out of the gloom. You barely manage to move out of the way before the door swings open. You almost wince, worried it may come off the hinges, or perhaps knock the bell off its hook.

A tall man rushes in, stumbling like a fawn on ice and nearly getting a bit too friendly with the ground. You watch him gain his bearings, not taking your eyes off him as you quickly shut the door back. He huffs as if he can’t catch his breath.

Your eyes slowly scan him from the bottom up as you try to discern if you’ve seen him before. His thick, leather boots are clearly worn from use, and caked in mud that’s left a filthy trail on your floor. His baggy work pants are equally weathered, with patches of scrap fabric messily stitched on in random places. He wears a navy windbreaker half zipped over a ratty, brown hoodie, and when your gaze gets to the edge of his sleeve you can see that he’s wearing gloves. He pulls his hood down off his head—good heavens, he’s paler than death—and shakes out a curly thatch of brunette hair. You could liken him to a big dog shaking off its coat.

He turns to face you, boots squelching in the small puddle he’s created around his feet. The bandage on his cheek crinkles as his face stretches with a crooked smile. Your attention is momentarily drawn to the one chipped tooth he keeps running his tongue over.

“Not ex-exactly the bess-ss-t day to be— b-be—bop! Bopop!—out and about, h-huh— huh?” he says with a chuckle, followed by several clicks of his tongue in an odd rhythm. You nod in agreement, still a bit too startled by his sudden entrance to reply. One of his hazel eyes scans the shelves with curiosity; the other, you notice, struggles to follow it.

After a second more of silence, you snap out of your surprise.

“Oh, let me take your coat,” you say quickly, reaching up to take the windbreaker off him. He happily complies, pulling the striped sleeves of his hoodie free from the jacket. It continues to drip as you hook it on the rack. You make a mental note to do some good mopping later.

You turn back to your guest, only to find him on the other side of the room. He’s crouched in front of a pot of sour brandy, eyeing it intensely. He leans in to sniff the opening of the pitcher-like flower.

“You don’t wanna do that!” You call out, but you aren’t fast enough. He winces and groans in disgust, rising to his feet so fast he nearly falls. You have to choke back a laugh.

“Sorry,” you say with a barely disguised giggle, “you might wanna avoid smelling random plants in here. That’s sour brandy.”

You pick up a pamphlet from your counter and hold it out to him.

“It’s known for its incredibly acerbic taste, and is usually used to, uh…expel irritants from the stomach. Here—this will tell you everything you need to know about that sort of thing.”

He huffs, like he’s trying to push the smell out of his nose. He takes the pamphlet from you, but only flips through it for a few seconds before folding it in two and shoving it into his pocket. Well, okay then…

“…Um, anyways,” you continue as you move behind your counter, “welcome to The Zenith. What can I get for you today?”

He only stares back at you like you’ve just spoken another language. You’re about to repeat yourself when you’re interrupted by a sudden jerking of his neck. It pops in a way that surely must be painful, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Just a ss-second,” he replies, holding up one hand while the other pats around his pockets. One side of his face twitches as he digs into his hoodie. After a bit of searching, he pulls out a slip of paper, unfolding it and pushing it across the table towards you with a shaky hand.

Some ink comes off on your fingers as you pick it up. The words are a bit smudged with raindrops, but it’s readable enough, even with the pompous cursive handwriting. You nearly scoff as you scan the list of plant names; it’s all high-end herbs and rare flowers, even a few species you need certain credentials to own. Fortunately, you do.

“Looks like someone’s planning a party,” you comment absentmindedly. You rifle through the keys on your belt for a moment before grabbing the one you’re looking for.

“Oh, uh, it-it’s not for me,” the man explains, suddenly looking sheepish as he watches you unlock one of the cabinets on the back wall of the store, “my, uh, mm-m-my bosses have—click! Clickick-ick! Fuck off!—h-have this big…thing—I dunno what it is, really—going on this-ss-s weekend.”

You give a hum of acknowledgment without looking away from what you’re doing. Briefly, you run your eyes over the various pouches of herbs sitting on the cabinet shelves, then look back down at the list. You grab each bag one by one as you read the names.

Sailor’s red, sunflick, vylar…they better know what the hell they’re doing.

You let out a low whistle as you close up the cabinet. Talk about crazy rich people. This mix of stuff could lay you out flat for days. The man seems to notice your expression.

“W-What’s wrong?” he stammers with a tilt of his head.

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” you reply with a shrug, “just, uh, this stuff is more intense than I usually go for. I sure hope your bosses know how to prepare this sort of thing, you can’t just be throwing this into your salad…”

He laughs—it’s a scratchy sort of warble, and it makes you grin in return. He reaches up to itch the back of his neck, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he bites his tongue.

You drop the pouches onto the counter before moving on to the next part of your list, and to one of your shelves. While you’ve several attractive flowering plants, you notice that the types requested are quite renowned for their beautiful blooms, and all in white and yellow. You also notice, though, that many of them are incredibly high maintenance, and will die within the week if not attended to with utmost care.

For some reason, it’s a bit hard to conjure a flattering image of these people.

You’re almost hesitant to let your darlings go when you know in your heart they won’t be properly loved.

Despite your woes, you gather the pots all the same. When you turn to walk back to your counter, you catch eyes with the man for a split second. He nearly jumps out of his skin before quickly putting his head down and pretending to be very interested in his shoes.

You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. You brush it off for now, deciding it probably isn’t all that significant; he’s a rather awkward one, after all.

You set the flowers down on the counter, then look back at the list. The last few items aren’t kept in the front of the shop.

“Oh, I’ll be right back,” you tell the man with a polite smile, “I need to grab a few things out of the greenhouse for you.”

“Huh?” he barks. He was looking right at you, but it seems he wasn’t really paying attention.

“Uh, yeah, that—th-that’s okay,” he adds quickly, a few of his knuckles popping as they flex in an unnatural manner. He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets his eyes wander idly about the store.

As you make your way back into the greenhouse, a nagging feeling in the back of your mind starts to bloom. The tall stranger has definitely caught your attention. He couldn’t be any older than 25, but he looks worked to the bone. Despite that, you think as you pluck a few fruits from a caerulem tree, he’s got the charm of an awkward teenager. He shambles about like his body is new, or perhaps like three raccoons pretending to be a person. The idea amuses you more than you’d like to admit.

When you return to the shop, bag of assorted fruits in hand, the man has already found something else to be interested in. He’s gingerly toying with the cap of a spongy mushroom, occasionally glancing at the pamphlet you gave him earlier. Cross-referencing, presumably. He looks up like a deer in headlights when he hears you drop the bag on the counter.

He shoves the pamphlet back into his pocket with even less care than last time before rushing over to you like an excited child. He puts his palms flat on the counter, leaning forward a bit more than is usually socially acceptable.

“Didja get it?” he asks, lazy eye twitching and scrunching a bit.

“Yessir,” you reply with a quick nod and wide eyes. He seems to realize he’s overstepped a bit, and pushes back.

He starts searching around in his pockets again.

“So, uh, h-how much will—dammit! Goddammit!—will th-th-that be?”

You take a moment to count up everything on the counter. It’s quite the haul, that’s for sure. Good news for you.

“…An even 80,” you declare.

He swiftly pulls something from his pocket and smacks it into the table. When he moves his hand away, you can see it’s a drawn note for…two hundred?

You resist the urge to groan in frustration. You begrudgingly open your register to retrieve the man’s change, but he stops you.

“T-They said to just let— l-let you keep the cheque!” he sputters as quickly as he can.

That makes you quirk a brow.

“Um…are you sure?” you ask, “This is over double what this stuff is worth.”

The man shrugs and kicks at the ground. “They do that s-ss-sort of thing all th-the—shrrrk!—all the time. ‘s not like they can’t aff-aff-afford it, ‘n’ they wanna make sure the—t-the—go away! Go away!—make sure the sh-shhh-shopkeepers like them.”

A beat of silence passes as you mull that over.

“…I sh-shhhouldn’t have said that,” the man mumbles. His lips quirk up in an awkward grin. Of course, you naturally return the gesture, and mime zipping your lips. You could swear it makes his restless shoulders relax a bit.

You put the cheque away before reaching for one of the pots. Just as you pick it up, the man’s hands come down on yours and hold them still.

“Woah, hold on, w-what-what are you doing?”

You stutter, not sure how to answer.

“Uh…I was just gonna help you carry some of these. You walked here, right? Can’t be that far. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is gonna be coming in with this weather.”

He shakes his head vehemently, pulling the flower away from you.

“No way, I-I got this-ss-s,” he insists with an admirable amount of confidence.

You open your mouth to protest, but you’re too impressed by the display that follows to speak. You’re not sure how, but he manages to scoop everything up into his arms. You nearly jump over the counter just in case he falls. He’s like a tower of blocks struggling to keep its balance.

By some miracle, he manages, and before you know it he’s headed to the door. You go to open it for him, but don’t get the chance. He lifts a boot and hooks it under the horizontal door handle to pull it open. You hold it open for him, but only really to feign helpfulness as he sprints out into the rain.

“Have a good day!” you call, and he gives a reply you can’t understand through the rain. He quickly disappears into the gloom.

You step back inside, alone in your shop once more.

“…Nice guy,” you mutter to yourself. You turn to head back to your counter, but something catches your eye:

His windbreaker is still hanging on the rack!

Frantically pulling it from the hook, you rush out into the rain without thinking. You call out to nothing as you run in the direction you think he went, realizing you never got his name. There’s no sound but the rain on the concrete.

You slow to a stop when it becomes clear your efforts are for naught.

You look down at the jacket, watching as the rain rolls off of it. Briefly, you debate still running after him, but think better of it. Even if you did find him, he’d probably be weirded out that a stranger chased him down over a windbreaker.

Well, you can’t stand in the rain forever. You sigh as you turn back around to head back to the shop.

Surely, he’ll be back…right?

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors.

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged.

If you liked this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.

#ticci toby #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #toby rogers x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #fantasy au #apothecary #apothecary au #slow burn #slow burn romance #slow burn fanfic #strangers to lovers #fluff #slow burn fic

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rainrot4me · 7 months ago

Text

Sick Days

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

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

TW: Very domestic and fluffy, slight bickering

Words: 6.7k

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

Seven days of pure snowfall and ice.

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

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

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

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

Your front door.

Jeff the Killer ▸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

But he just looked so… pitiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G’night [Y/N]…”

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

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

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

In sickness and in health, you guess.

Ticci Toby ▸

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

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

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

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

And he was not happy about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enjoying what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Toby.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll t- try.”

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

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

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

Tim Wright▸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink this,” you said. “It’ll help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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xxsinisterbunniexx · 5 months ago

Text

Don’t Run - Alpha! Ticci Toby x Omega! Female Reader NFSW

Warnings: omegaverse (so lowkey dubcon depending on how you look at it)

Originally published on AO3, which you can read here if you’d prefer :)

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Heat cycles, Soulmates, Fingering, Semi-clothed sex, Breeding, Creampie, german dirty talk

Words: 2.5k

Summary: After wandering into the woods you find yourself being hunted down by a psycho with hatchets. You could only pray to god he wasn’t an alpha, or then you’d really be in for it.

As always

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

Like I really don’t see much omegaverse content for this fandom and so I will become the change I want to see. Also I just want to see Toby acting feral cuz I need him like waterrrrrr

Run. Run. Run.

That’s what your brain was screaming at you as your feet pounded the ground. Your lungs and muscles burned, but you couldn’t stop. He was still close.

A low whirring sound caught your attention, causing you to duck right before you heard the loud thwack of his hatchet getting stuck in the tree above you.

You heard him laugh as you didn’t waste a second getting back up, continuing to run. “That was a -fuck- good one. Too close though.” He called, his body twitching in unnatural ways.

This fucker was hunting you for sport. What did you do to provoke this? Nothing really, except be in the wrong place at the wrong time you guessed.

Well maybe following a stray cat into the woods.

That’ll do it.

That’s what’ll get some weirdo with hatchets chasing you through the woods.

It’s not even dark yet!

The sun was setting but you still had some daylight left. You definitely needed to get away from this psycho before it went dark. If not, there’s no way you’d stand a chance.

If you could just find somewhere to hide, maybe, maybe you could make it out alive. He was just too fast. He wasn’t even trying that hard to catch you, more so just playing the cat and mouse game with you.

Treating me like I’m goddamn prey or something!

Hopefully, it wasn’t because you were an omega, not that he should be able to tell anyways. Back in fucking prehistoric times hunting down omegas might’ve been acceptable but we have society now! You just prayed to god he was just a freak and not a freak who’s also an alpha.

Another hatchet flew your way, this time nearly grazing you.

What the fuck?!?!

Your only saving grace right now was that each time he did that he had to stop and pull it back out of the tree.

Wait… exactly.

You ran up to the tree, yanking on the hatchet as hard as you could. You almost fell backward once it finally came loose. Right in time too, because when you turned around there he was.

Now that he was a bit closer, you could make out a little more of his appearance. He had messy brown hair with an orange pair of goggles on top. Some type of… weird muzzle looking mask covered the bottom half of his face, but you could see his dark eyes locked onto you.

You didn’t take more than a split second to look at him, chucking the hatchet in his direction. He didn’t even try to dodge it. He only looked slightly shocked as it cut his arm, grazing the side and cutting his striped hoodie sleeve, but otherwise didn’t flinch.

Fuck! My aim is terrible!

He turned his eyes away from his arm and back up to you, narrowing them at you.

Fuck! I definitely just pissed him off too!

You immediately turned the other way and started to run, only to be harshly jerked out of your stride. He slammed your body against a tree, knocking the wind out of you.

His demeanor had shifted, no longer laughing and treating this like a game. His mood seemed almost… dark. “Why are you running, huh?” He gripped your face hard and your throat harder. You could feel his breath on your face, that’s how close he was. “Why are you running from me, huh?” A sick laugh followed his words.

You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, he was cutting off your air supply. You tried to scratch at his hands, your attempts doing nothing to stop him. You couldn’t even affect him, failing to even elicit any kind of reaction from him. He pulled off his mask, revealing a huge gash beneath it. It took up a good portion of his cheek and it was deep. You could see all the way through to his teeth. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell so good.”

Well fuck…

When he pulled back to look at your face you mustered the most hateful look you could, since you couldn’t scream at him like you wanted to.

“Ahh, that’s good.” He got a huge grin on his face, easing up on your neck. It seemed he was just eating up your reactions, which only pissed you off more.

He let go of your neck to grab your wrists, pinning them above your head with just one hand. Your attacks weren’t doing much anyways, but fuck, he was stronger than he looked.

“So feisty.” His neck jerked when he talked. “I thought omegas were -fuck- supposed to be docile.”

Ohhhh he did not just go there.

“And I thought alphas were supposed to be perfect and good at everything, not twitchy fucking freaks!” You spat at him, as hatefully as you could. At this point you didn’t even need to question if he was an alpha or not. You could smell it on him. It was overwhelming your senses.

He started laughing at that, his body twitching and jerking. “I’m fucking freaky, huh?” He leaned back in, deeply inhaling your scent again. He tilted your chin up with his free hand, his eyes already looked dazed, drunk off your scent. “I’m still about to make you my bitch.”

Seeing that look in his eye sent electricity straight down to your cunt. You could already feel wetness pooling in your panties. Warmth engulfed your body, making you feel weak and needy.

He let go of your wrists, snaking an arm around your waist, pulling your whole body against his. You let out a gasp, starting to pant in his arms.

“Already giving in? C’mon at least make this a little interesting for me.” He chuckled before leaning down and capturing your lips.

He kissed you roughly, immediately shoving his tongue in your mouth. You were quickly losing any will to resist him. His invasion of your mouth felt so good and you were loving the taste of him.

There was no reason you should be feeling like this. You’d taken all your suppressants. You’d never missed a dose. Nothing would just make your heat start like this out of nowhere except-

Oh god…. No way. Absolutely not.

He couldn’t be.

“Nn…” you pressed your body against his, your hands gripping his biceps. He pressed his knee in between your thighs, pressing against your cunt.

You moaned into his mouth, instantly rutting your hips against his thigh. It was like his scent had consumed you. He was the only thing you could think of.

He finally relinquished your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath. You could hear how heavily he was breathing, just like you. He was just as affected by you as you were by him.

He moved down to your neck, licking a stripe up it, a low growl escaping him. For a split second you thought he was going to bite you, but then he just sucked on the skin, making a dark mark. For a second, you were a bit disappointed that he hadn’t.

Wait, no way!

There was no way he was your soulmate. You didn’t want him to be. It just wasn’t happening.

So why did you want him to bite you so badly? Why did that feel right? Why were you just disappointed when he didn’t claim you?

He let up on your neck after leaving a plethora of marks. He was claiming you without really claiming you. For some reason that was painstakingly frustrating.

He was panting loudly in your ear, slipping his hand under your skirt and straight into your panties. He let out a groan when he felt how much of your arousal had already collected in your panties.

“Ah, fuck.” He grit out. “I need you so badly.” His husky voice sent shivers down your spine. He pushed his hands under your shirt, pushing the fabric up. “Get this off before I rip it off.” He commanded, pulling it up as you lifted your arms up.

The sun had set at this point, the air growing colder. Even still, your body was burning up. His hands were all over you, feeling the newly exposed skin. He was rutting his hips up against you, making you very aware of his bulge.

Your knees went weak, and you could barely hold yourself up anymore. He slipped his hand into your panties again, using his arm around your waist and the tree behind to hold you up.

He slid his fingers through your folds, allowing your sticky arousal to collect on his digits before sliding them into you. A more guttural sounding growl erupted from his throat as he pushed them all the way inside without resistance. His face was buried in your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as he started to fuck you with his fingers.

“So tight…” he groaned. “Can’t wait to breed your little cunt.”

You were no longer on this astral plane. Your cunt was buzzing with pleasure each time his fingers rutted into you. You pressed your thighs together, unable to handle the feeling.

He shoved your leg out of the way with his thigh. “Mm, c’mon pretty girl, keep it open for me.” He pushed his fingers deep, his palm pressing against your clit with each stroke of his fingers.

It was somehow too much and not enough at the same time. It was satiating you, for now, but you still desired so much more.

“Please… I need… more.” You whined.

“Shh, I know, pretty girl.” He hummed into your neck. “Just let me take care of you.”

He moved up to let you bury your face in his neck. You gripped onto his collar, pulling his neck closer as you deeply took in his scent. It was so addicting, only making you feel more euphoric.

You felt completely enraptured by him: the feeling of his strong hands that held you up, the sound of his panting in your ear, and his scent that you couldn’t get enough of.

His fingers made obscene gushing sounds every time he pushed them deep into your cunt. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. At this point you were moaning unabashedly into his neck, your voice getting whinier and whiner, his fingers making you feel so good.

The feeling kept building and building, the tension in your stomach growing to heights you’d never experienced before. You finally broke, your cunt squeezing his fingers hard.

“That’s it, come for me.” He cooed, still pressing his fingers into your convulsing cunt.

For the first time in your life you understood it. Why omegas paired with alphas. You’d only just found him, and yet there was such a strong compelling force drawing you to him. You already couldn’t imagine life without him. Once you’d experienced this you could never go back.

Even as you were coming down, you still needed more. You wanted so badly for him to take you, to claim you and never part with you. “I need you.” You admitted quietly, not really worried about the embarrassment anymore.

He grabbed your body, pushing you down to the ground as gently as possible, his body over yours. “Don’t say things like that. You’re getting me too riled up.”

You could recognize the look in his eye as pure want. The desire to possess you somehow being communicated to you without him saying anything.

He quickly unbuckled his belt, not even bothering to pull it all the way off. He rushed to push down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. It was already rock hard, the tip was a little red and leaking precum.

Your skirt had already ridden up from the previous activities, giving him easy access. He roughly gripped your hips, pulling you towards him and shoving your panties to the side. You grabbed onto him, bracing yourself as he lined himself up with your entrance.

He couldn’t control it anymore. His insticts were screaming at him to breed you. He shoved himself into you all the way to the hilt, eliciting loud moans of pleasure from you.

He started a brutal pace, pumping into like his life depended on it. He lifted his shirt up, holding it up with his teeth to keep it out of the way.

“God you feel so good wrapped around my cock…” he gritted through his teeth. “Such a perfect little cockslut.”

His words were only turning you on more, your back arched off the ground and you wrapped your legs around him tight, needing to keep him inside of you.

Everything about this felt so primal. Probably because it was. He was fucking you right on the ground, grunting and growling into your ear, with the intent of breeding you. Your cunt was gushing with each thrust, his cock hitting all the right places in you. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you came hard around his cock.

He let out another growl as you came around him. He pushed himself up on his hands, still driving his cock into you. His eyes were completely dazed, he looked almost feral, like his body was moving on pure instinct. “Du bist einfach zu verdammt süß...Ich kann nicht wiederstehen... Ich will dich so sehr.”

His voice dropped lower, taking on a husky tone. “Und du wirst mir gehören, auch wenn ich alles tun muss, um dich zu brechen, mein Mädchen.”

You couldn’t even understand what he said, but you knew you wanted it. He was your everything now. Whatever he wanted for you, you wanted it.

“Please…” you whined, tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him.

He leaned down to your neck once more, inhaling your scent deeply before baring his teeth, taking a deep bite into your unclaimed neck. The feeling of him claiming you was so euphoric, eliciting another explosive orgasm around his throbbing cock.

He moved one of his hands to press over your stomach, holding himself up with the other. “Du wirst mit meinem Kind so perfekt aussehen, mein Mädchen.” He moaned, feeling your cunt convulse around him, your legs wrapped around him tighter than ever. “Das wirst du mir geben, nicht wahr?”

You understood what he was asking, despite not knowing a single word he said. “Please…” you whined, nodding.

“You want it, huh?” He asked. “You wanna have my babies? You want me to breed your cunt?”

“Please…! Please, come inside me.” You begged, already feeling dizzy off the thought of him breeding you.

“Fuck… you’re gonna look so good swollen with my kid.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic, chasing the feeling of his oncoming orgasm. “Gonna come inside your pretty little cunt. Gonna… fuck… claim you.” His voice cracked. He buried his face in your neck again, biting down as you felt his hot cum flood your cunt.

You both panted hard, exhausted and your minds still fuzzy from the pleasure. He leaned up on his elbows to look at your face, cupping it in his hands.

“Wow, you really are -fuck- a pretty little thing. Lucky me.” He said lazily.

You looked into his eyes, finally having a chance to really study his features. You really weren’t sure what you had just gotten yourself into, but it was all fated to happen… so it must be right.

At least you hoped so.

I hope you guys enjoyed!!!

~pls remember to distinguish fiction from reality

#creepypasta #crp fandom #creepypasta fic #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers

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theamberparadise · 21 days ago

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I want to make a reaquest again, please ( if you don't mind )

Jeff the killer ( Why am I so obsessed with this guy? 😭) and ticci Toby ( because i love him ) x Jessica Rabbit s/o When they were on date Then there was someone catcalling their s/o ( separately) please

TICCI TOBY AND JEFF THE KILLER X JESSICA RABBIT-LIKE READER PART 2 | READER GETS CATCALLED!! (SFW)

SYPNOSIS; how would Jeff and Toby react to a Jessica Rabbit - like reader get catcalled while on a date?

TW; catcalling obv, curse words, brutal ways of murdering, drinking

A/N; does this count as a part two I hope this counts as a part two somebody tell me it's a part two

part 1

TICCI TOBY

The lights are dim. The plates are clicking. Jazz is playing.

You're at a high-end restaurant that Toby managed to reserve a seat at after bribing BEN to do some password magic on his computer.

He knew you and him didn't need to pay because BEN managed to make it appear that the reservation and meal was paid.

You were sitting in a cushy chair in front of a velvet covered table across from Toby. To look decent he snagged on a suit and covered his gash with a thick gauze that took over his face.

The date is… fruitful. At first he tried to be “fancy” by ordering oysters but the waiter quietly reminded him that you were in a steakhouse and oysters weren't even on the menu. Then, he spilled a glass of water off your table. Then accidentally called the waiter a “bitch” because of his tic, but fortunately the waiter just dismissed it.

But despite all that has happened, you're still enjoying the date since he was considerate enough to not mutilate all the other people here just to have the whole place to yourselves like he did last time at a run-down diner.

You both were sitting next to a big window. And so he wasn't doing a good job sitting still at multiple civilians who were passing by gawking at you.

Of course he understood why, a beautiful goddess like you would obviously gain stares from people.

He was holding your hand across the table, breathing a little too heavy for your liking while he talked about work and other shenanigans he rambled out too fast when a knock emanated from the window beside both of you.

You turn your head, flipping a chunk of your hair away to get a better view.

There, two teenagers were grinning at you, paying no attention to your date, who significantly gripped your hand tighter than before.

One of the teenagers cupped his mouth around the sides and pressed against the glass

“Yo, baby! You ever been with a real man?” his voice was muffled through the clear material.

You could practically hear Toby growl.

Your thumb circled the back of his hand, a silent way of coaxing him to stay I'm his seat and not do anything.

“Show me somethin’, sexy! Maybe I'll be the one to pay for your dinner!” Toby tensed. The last comment didn't sit with him well because of his masculinity being mocked.

You shake your head and try to look away, trying to continue your conversation with Toby but his chair is long gone.

Tears filled your eyes at the thought of him might have had enough and left you because you didn't do much to stop the teenagers outside your window.

You glance at the window once again, just to find nobody there. You cock an eyebrow, looking left and right through the cool pane.

Then, a huge splatter of blood shoots against the window, followed by muffled screaming coming from a male before the younger looking teenager’s body slammed on the glass, making a big thump.

The people behind you who were eating are obviously terrified, with a crowd already up from their seats and backing away into the wall, trying to get as far from the windows as possible.

However, Toby makes his final appearance through the window. His bare eyes which were usually hidden behind an orange tint, were now staring at the mortified customers like they’re next.

In Toby’s hand, a broken piece of wood which seems to be from the same chair he sat on. His suit, formerly in pristine and clean condition, now splattered in a disgustingly wet, dripping red.

Everyone’s screams filled the room. But the constant thumping of your heart? Enough to silence them off if ever it had a voice.

You curl up a faint smile before he trudges inside the door again, earning gasps and half-finished screams from the crowd of servers and customers as he snaps his fingers to get your (very frozen) waiter.

“I wa-want a take out b-box,” he mutters. The waiter gains sonic speed as he scrambles around, bringing back a stack of folded glossy paper boxes for food.

Without a word, Toby grabs the boxes with twitching hands, the faint sound of somebody calling 911 speeding him up, filling the boxes with A-grade wagyu steak like greasy non-authentic chinese food.

Toby grabs your arm tenderly, like a calm in the midst of chaos with haphazardly-packed food in his hand before he hushes you to his car and speeding off, the constant wailing of the sirens not fazing him.

As soon as Toby hears or sees a threat– especially when on a special day with his beloved elegant vixen, he doesn’t spare an ounce of empathy or critical thinking.

Because he’s spent so many years being rejected by pretty girls, there is absolutely no way he’s letting a bum steal what he was deprived of all these years.

Even though he’s a bum himself, Toby knew there was something you see in him, and he isn’t about to waste that something on anybody.

Toby has spent so much time making sure he was on par with you. Fancy ties his father used to wear, itchy polo shirts that make his skin twitch, tight dress pants that make him look like a looney. He’s even picked up on etiquette habits, like holding a wine glass properly, learning seven types of forks…

So if he notices that someone is trying to coax you to give them your attention, he immediately sees it as a challenge and that person is now a huge threat to him.

And threats, like what he’s been taught all his years as a proxy, are immediately eliminated.

There’s not a moment that he doesn’t enjoy it though. He sees it as a way to prove that he’s not spineless, not something to underestimate and disregard.

And if it’s in front of people? He’s showing off.

Look at me I just beheaded a twinky little fuck who tried to steal my hot ass girlfriend!! Look!!! - his mentality

Toby wouldn’t drag you into the bloodshed though, he’d hate for your look to be ruined because of him:(

But when he does get a splatter of blood on you, he legit stops midway into beating the guy into a bloody pulp to pull out a hankie from his pocket and frantically try to wipe the stain away before going back and finishing the business.

“Oh, n-no baby I’m s-so sorry… here, l-let me c-clean it up for yo-you.”

And when the job is done and the guy is at least hung on a post somewhere to prove a point, he proceeds to take you on the most romantic car ride you have ever been in or the most mundane and cuddly walk of your life. You honestly don’t know what’s up with that, maybe it’s because you’re fucked up in the head too or he’s just magical like that.

Toby does ask many questions after, though. He needs assurance that it’s only him you want and that you’d never be freaked out at such a freak like him. And when those words spill from your lipstick-coated lips with those sleepy eyes he loves so much? He’s shivering and rests his forehead on your shoulder, breathing in your scent.

If you tell him it's okay and that you're there to comfort him while scratching at his scalp, he's already contemplating on killing 500 more people for you.

He barely even lets you look someone else’s way, why would he let anyone invade yours?

JEFF THE KILLER

The clean taste of vodka washes over your tongue while your eyes seem to dim under the yellow bar lights.

Jeffrey was crudely telling you a plethora of fucked-up jokes about how his recent victims look like when he was “done” with them. You laugh at him, not at his jokes, but at how stupidly beamed up his eerily pale face is. He suggested getting a drink at a bar he and Habit usually go to and calling it a date. You agree, since you were quite bored and was in a mood to play hard-to-get with him.

The scene was quite noisy. Drunk, underpaid construction workers clinking their overflowing mugs of beer. The cranky bartender slamming down overly-sweet drinks. Shitty country music blaring over the broken speakers.

It was a perfect killing night for you. Desperate, incel men with families needing to get their dick stepped on, bastards salivating behind your back, and in the far left corner, muggers who think unassuming girls are the best targets.

You continue to entertain Jeff, who was now on the topic of him mutilating his victims in about twenty ways; when the bar entrance door swings open and rings the bell overhead, producing a broken jingle followed by a long whistle and a hackle of guffaws.

You turn, the red, shiny dress on your body twinkling in the light with your hair cascading down. Your eyes surveyed the scene and saw what looks to be a small-time mobster with a few of his minions. Maybe four, maybe five. Jeff knew what was going on, and he also knew what was about to happen and was ready to pounce.

The mobster leader fished out his phone, flipping it up like a treat he was feeding to a stray.

“Nice dress, sugar! You look good in red.” he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing over his beard was enough to make you grimace. “You oughta just leave this freak here and stay with me tonight,” before you could say no, Jeff stands up, ripping the surgical mask off his face and stepping up to the greasy man.

“Watch it,” he growls, “This is my toy.” you grinch at the nickname before a flash of silver catches your eye. It was already long after Jeff had pulled out his knife from his pocket. A smirk tugs on your cheeks.

“Aw,” the mobster chuckled. “Little joker wannabe here wants a bit of trouble.” he looks up, his gleaming eyes settling on you, giving you a disgusting wink. “Say, whaddabout I kick this bitch of a date of yours and we kick it off at my pla–” he was interrupted by Jeff stuffing his blade upside the mobster’s guts before he cruelly yanks it out, raising a hand to grip his greasy hair and bang the leader’s head repeatedly on the corner of the bar table.

By the time Jeff was done the mobster was laying lifeless on the floor, shards of his bloody skull littering the bloody puddle.

And when you look back at where his minions were standing, the entrance sits empty. The rest of the crowd either also left via the backdoor or weren’t looking at all. Some even had their wallets spread out on their tables, giving up whatever they might be mugged for.

Jeff turns to you once again. He lifts your hand up with his cold fingers, then leaning down to press a kiss right on your knuckles.

He then notices the stains on your stockings, feeling proud of what he did.

“He wasn’t wrong. Y’always look good in red, baby.”

Contrary to Toby, Jeff likes it when you end up as an affected factor of his mess. Seeing you covered in the blood he spilled boosts his ego in the wrong, twisted ways.

Jeff actually prefers to do the killing in private, then stay hidden in the scene with you, watching the horror on somebody’s face upon discovering the body, giggling at how they scramble to call the police on their phone.

However he does try to blare it out as much as possible. Jeff is chaotic, it’s the reason why he’s on so many news articles. So he tries to make the scene as brutal as possible so it’s worthy enough to appear on the front page.

He then cuts out the column and slips it under your door a week later after the incident, with a note scribbled on the back with red messy ink, saying “You always wanted a love letter, right? Well, surprise! - Jeff” (he thinks it’s better than ACTUAL love letters)

Jeff likes outwardly kissing you in front of the crowd if there ever was one during his kill. It’s his way of saying “this is who I killed for and if you try some shit like that as well you’re fucked”. He does it with his eyes open, side-eyeing them while he does it.

He hates when people steal something that’s his. He practically got everything ripped away from him before he went crazy. His ego, his dignity, his family. Once Jeff has something he values once again and especially as somebody as pretty as you? He’s building a barbed wire of warning before he lets go of himself.

And when the cops arrive, he takes your heels and your hand while you both run to his truck, then drives you to a run-down gas station so you two could “really relax”. Even though he was the one who ruined the peace in the first place.

Thing is, once Jeff hears something even remotely perverted and directed towards you he comes stomping over and tells the person to “back the fuck off” and then comes crawling back like a dog.

He actually believes he’s just as jaw-dropping as you are. So when somebody tries to disturb the “dynamic” he claims you two have, he's extremely offended.

Jeff doesn’t ask questions like Toby does because he’s such an egotistical asshole that he expects you to thank him for causing the intended murder.

But when you scold him for it? He’ll start thinking that you actually wanted the guy and starts listing off on why you shouldn’t feel bad for him when you really don’t.

He’s all for staring, hell he can stare at you for hours without saying anything– but when another person does it to you suddenly he’s wondering why they’re doing that and interrogates them immediately.

Same with touching. He’s willing to grope your ass in public but when somebody even slightly comments on your ass he’s on theirs.

You tell him "thank you" with that creamy voice of yours while tracing his slits? He will lick your heels.

When you don’t notice the penetrator trying to hit on you Jeff sends them a glare and flashes his knife before grinning inhumanely wide. So far, that’s the best technique he’s used, but for the stubborn ones?

He already knows what to do with them. And for you? A nice, cushy seat with front row view of his performance.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta proxy #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta au #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer creepypasta #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby creepypasta #tobias erin rogers #crp

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