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astupidweeb69 · 5 months

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Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 9

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Author’s Note: I've been rereading this chapter for about a week trying to edit it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Happy holidays everybody!

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Descriptions of Gore. Some threats of violence. (2,070 words)

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Leaves crunched underneath heavy boots, ragged and irritated breaths came out in clouds against the cold.

Toby was not pleased.

Not pleased with how things were going with you.

And not pleased with being texted by Tim.

Apparently there was some work to do and he had to ‘get his lazy ass over there’. The young proxy didn’t even know the details of what needed to be done. A supply run? Some more random campers in the area? Either way Toby was itching for a fight.

He could feel anger in his system bubbling and ready to boil over. Just imagining Tim’s smug face waiting for him, probably ready to spat some nonsense about how ‘he’s late’ or make a snide comment on his appearance. His face twitched furiously at the idea, and if anyone was unfortunate enough to see the way he walked through the woods now, they’d surely run in the other direction. There was murder in the man’s eyes.

It wouldn’t take long for Toby to find his teammate. That’s how things always worked though, they had a connection to find each other when they were supposed to, all he needed to do was walk mindlessly in a direction and let the forest guide him.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.”

The smell of smoke let him know he found who he was looking for. Tim leaned on a tree, a wry smile on his face, a lit cigarette burning away at his fingertips. It was practically an extension of his hand at this point, the fucking chainsmoker. Toby learned to hate the scent of tobacco.

“Where’s Brian?” Toby frowned, ignoring Tim’s comment.

“Had something he needed to do.”

Tim looked disinterested in the conversation. Getting him to actually tell Toby what was going on was like pulling teeth. And Toby knew first hand how hard that could be.

“Suh-so? Why’d you cuh-call me out here?” The younger proxy fidgeted with the ends of his gloves.

Tim sighed, letting the last part of his cigarette drop to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “There’s been some weird things happening out here. Brian said you should come with me to investigate.”

Toby made note of how he said ‘Hoodie’. Tim’s way of hinting that he didn’t want him there. Typical.

“Wuh-what do you mean weird things?”

Tim motioned with his head for him to follow, walking away into some bushes, Toby raised one of his eyebrows before complying. There was a rancid stench in the air when he started following him, like something died. Not uncommon in the forest, but it was hard to stomach even for the most experienced woodsman.

They followed the smell of rotting flesh, down a small embankment. The dead leaves on the ground made it hard not to slip and fall, and Toby snickered when Tim lost his footing a couple times, making the older proxy shoot him a dirty look.

“There up ahead.” After walking a few paces, Tim pointed to a mangled pile of fur splayed out against a group of pine trees.

Toby’s eyes narrowed at the bloody mess in front of him, turning to the other man in irritation.

“You dragged me out here for a duh-dead deer?”

“Take a closer look, Rogers.”

Toby shoved past Tim, making a point to bump into his shoulder for using the nickname he hated. He pulled up the mouthguard hanging from his neck to cover his nose, but it didn’t block out the smell nearly as much as he’d hoped. It took a lot of willpower not to gag.

He scanned over the remains noting different sized bite marks and scratches that tore through the animal's belly, viscera pooling out and its black lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. A swarm of maggots had already started the process of decay.

Toby could see the red of Tim’s flannel out the corner of his eye.

“Well?”

“Okay, it’s a luh-little strange. I’ll give you that. The bite muh-marks look like they came from a human.”

“Anything else, detective?” Tim mused, clearly noticing something else but liked toying with the kid.

“Just fucking spit it out.”

The older man kneeled down, motioning to two different spots on the deer's hind legs. “They’re all different sizes, meaning more than one person did this.”

“Cuh-cool.” Toby deadpanned. “So what does that mean for us?”

“It means we need to keep an eye out for groups of ravin’ lunatics.”

“Don’t we already duh-do that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. This is the second animal we’ve found like this in a week.”

“And yuh-you only thought to tell me now?”

“I was busy.” Tim shrugged, the corner of his lip curling up slightly. The man did not give two shits about warning Toby sooner. Probably didn’t even want to tell him now. If anything, Brian most likely had to convince him to.

The younger proxy scowled at him, tempted to escalate things, to cause another one of their fights ending with the two trying to claw the others' eyes out. Not that it would hurt him, and Toby always got some sick amusement seeing Tim in pain. But it would be dark soon, and he was itching to get back home. The thought of you back there tied up on his bed was making him scratch at his scar.

He needed to spend more time with you. The look in your eyes as he paced around the cabin…. The look of fear and hatred. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still bugged him. You were… a bit more of a firecracker than he’d hoped. And level-headed unfortunately. You were catching on a little too quickly, to just how…. Temperamental he could be. The memory of you staring at his hatchets came back to him. He needed you to see his softer side, needed you to warm up to him before the truth, the real truth, about what he was came out. Maybe if he stole an old TV and got some of those movies you liked….

“Rogers!”

A finger snapped inches from his face. Toby blinked.

“Wuh-What?”

“I told you we need to get goin’” Tim pushed Toby forward impatiently. “It’s almost night time. Come on.”

He could hear Tim muttering “Fuckin’ useless kid.” under his breath as he led the way.

Toby’s stomach twisted. That phrase got to him. Was something he’d heard a lot, from somewhere before, something in his past. Something familiar. Tim taunted him in ways that sparked a deep resentment, like an itch he could never fully scratch. A scab that wouldn’t heal.

They walked back the way they came in, up the hill and through the thick bushes, without saying a word. One thing they could agree on was the less they talked, the better.

Luckily Toby’s cabin wasn’t too far. Fiddling with the ends of his jacket, combing his hair, absentmindedly, he was glad to be rid of the old fucker finally and get back to what was important.

But things never worked out the way he wanted.

Toby felt a hand on his arm. Tim lit up another cigarette, his eyes narrowed at Toby, before taking a long, deep, drag into his lungs. .

Smoke billowed from the man’s mouth, surrounding him in a thick cloud as he spoke.

“Before you go, I need somethin’ from your cabin.”

Fuck.

Toby stared at him for a moment. His mind went blank, before finally speaking up.

“Wuh-what do you need?”

He’d just act normal. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He could figure something out.

“Hoods and I are running low on some supplies. We know Kate keeps some of her stuff in your basement. Figured we’d borrow some things.”

The boy twitched and fidgeted under the pressure, trying to come up with ways to get out of it. If Tim saw you… Toby didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. He honestly didn’t know.

“What… kuh-kind of things-sss?” Shit. His stutter was getting worse.

Tim raised a brow. Likely annoyed by how standoffish the other proxy was being at something simple.

“Like food n’ ammo. We’ve been too busy to go into town.” Tim paused, and looked almost accusingly at him. “And I know you’ve been leaving the forest a lot recently.”

Toby chewed on the side of his cheek. Of course the other proxies sensed his disappearance. He’d been too preoccupied with you to even think about that being a possibility. That didn’t mean they cared when he was gone, they weren’t his babysitter. But now Tim had him over a barrel. There was no way he could deny him supplies now, without admitting the reason he went into town was for… something out of the ordinary.

“Fuh-fine.” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Just duh-don’t touch any of my stuff.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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The cabin was just up ahead. Toby kept glancing back at Tim who seemed too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice.

“Whuh-wait outside for a second. There’s suh-something I need to take care of first.”

Tim eyed him carefully. They both stood on the porch, tension rising, Tim’s body stiffening and his hands balling into fists for a brief moment. Toby fully expecting him to lash out.

Tim always thought the boy was weird. Fucked up in the head. Overly-emotional, unstable, obnoxious, and he’s seen the worst of Toby’s manic episodes. He was almost certain the kid engaged in some light cannibalism, from the way he mumbled to himself in his delusional states. He was so fucking glad they didn’t live under the same roof anymore.

Finally, after a few moments of staring the other down, Tim relaxed. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.” The older man decided he’d do whatever it took to get the fuck outta there, even if that meant having to obey. Despite how much that bruised his ego, he just wanted to go home and sleep.

Toby quickly went inside, slamming the door behind him, and Tim sat on the steps of the porch with a reluctant grunt.

Twitching anxiously, he ran into the room where you were tied to the bed. You jumped, obviously startled, by the door aggressively being opened. Normally he’d mock you, wanting to give a fake ‘awwww’ at how freaked out you were by his presence. He was still mad about how you've been treating him. But he didn’t have the time for that right now.

He opened the drawer to his nightstand, getting out an old t-shirt.

“Wha-” You started to question, but he cut you off by shoving the cloth in your mouth painfully. He tied it around your head, a little too tight, but he needed to make sure you were properly gagged and wouldn’t be heard.

Toby leaned down to your ear, speaking in a low hiss. “You nuh-need to be fucking quiet. I have a guest. He’s dangerous, so don’t get any ideas. No one’s coming to save you.”

He gripped your jawline tightly. “Do you uh-understand?” You stared back at him. Toby narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on your face even more, until you finally nodded your head.

He released his hand and exited the room, mentally preparing himself to interact with Tim again, and with a deep breath, opened the front door.

“Okay, you can cuh-come in now.”

Tim groaned as he got up to follow him inside.

Toby couldn’t help letting his eyes dart to his bedroom door when they walked past. He led Tim down the hall where the basement stairs were, which he started keeping locked the day he captured you. He didn’t need you to see what was down there. Hopefully not ever.

After Toby unlocked the door and showed him the various backpacks stolen from victims, Tim rummaged through a couple before collecting the items he needed. Mostly food, a couple old boxes of ammo. Nothing special.

His heart was pounding when they climbed the stairs again, so close to getting this over with. Wanting nothing more than to have him out of the house. Away from you.

But without warning, Tim stopped in the hallway,

It was so sudden Toby almost bumped into his back.

“Whuh-what is it?”

There was a dangerously long pause, before Tim’s head turned to look behind his shoulder. Toby's eyes widened in fear.

“Did you hear that?”

#ticci toby #creepypasta #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #yandere creepypasta x reader #yandere ticci toby x reader #unrequited #yandere #fanfiction #my writing #masky creepypasta #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby x you #yandere creepypasta

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cryptomiracle · 1 year

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Ticci toby headcanons (but make it ✨romantical✨)

Basic facts

He's clingy as hell .

After losing his sister, he kinda has that "I can't afford to lose another person" mentality, so he's basically attached to your hip .

He'd literally follow you EVERYWHERE .

And by EVERYWHERE I mean EVERYWHEREEE

He's a bit (more than a bit) of a creep.. he'll follow you to work, the gas station, the grocery store, your house, your friends house, and he has tabs on everyone you have a personal relationship with .

He knows the name of your first s/o, your mom's/dad's Facebook, your blood type, and even your favorite song .

Gifting

not only is he clingy, he's crazy too (duh) .

He's the type to leave a human heart in a pretty little gift box in your house while you're away, but be confused as to why you're shaking with fear when you find it, while he looks at you through your window .

But if YOU leave him a gift, he'll cherish it with his whole heart.

Even if it's just some little gift bag you threw together, even if it's a scented candle from the dollar tree, the fact that you thought about him enough to get him a present, is enough for him .

Physical touch

I already said he's clingy, but I didn't say HOW clingy .

He absolutely ADORES cuddling, this mf has a grip like a vice, once he has you trapped, there's no getting away. Literally ..

He LOVES anything to do with your hair

He also loves when you run your hands through his hair, or brush it.(he hasn't brushed his hair since like 2013)

he'd learn how to braid just for you .

He knows all the products you use by name, so you don't have to worry about him getting the wrong ones .

When he's out killing he can be a bit.. wild.

But surprisingly with you, he's extremely gentle like you're a precious jewel, or a fine piece of china he can't afford to break.

Whenever you two go somewhere, he'll never let go of your hand. Never ..

What freedoms you have

He let's you go places ofc.. as long as he can come with you .

he doesn't want you to hate him, so he doesn't treat you like a "pet" but he does feel the need to protect you, especially because of his "line of work"

He's not exactly a "yandere" but he can be quite possessive .

If anyone is rude to you, or even looks at you sideways, he'll simply stare at them with an empty, yet hateful glare .

If anyone tries to flirt with you, or looks at you with "lustful eyes", they're instantly on his kill list .

If you tried to escape

It depends on his mood tbh .

If he's in a good mood, he might let you escape then continue to stalk you from a distance for a few months until he can't handle being "away" from you anymore .

But if he's in a bad mood..

He'd let you escape, but he'd be waiting for you IN your own house.

Because of his job, he's really good at hiding in plain sight, so he'd just live in your house without you realizing it .

it'd start with little things, like moving stuff, or taking your stuff and hiding it.. then he'd start to whisper things, he'd tell you things in your sleep, he'd leave little marks on your arms, legs, etc. Nothing too serious, just something to get you on edge and paranoid, he'd crave his name on different things in your house, like walls, doors, etc. He'd slash your tires, and leave pictures of you asleep on your dresser with hearts drawn on them in an "unknown substance" (it's his blood)

He'd do this for months, slowly driving you mad.. then he'd take you back.. ♡

#ticci toby #headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #yandere ticci toby #fanfic #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #tobias rogers

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creepypasta-fan-page · 10 months

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“Memes, Ticci Toby edition„

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Yes, I made this.

#Ticci Toby #Tobias eren rogers #yandere creepypasta #Creepypasta memes #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #Lyra rogers

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bloodblanks · 1 year

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pumpkin head [ticci toby x reader] — chapter i.

After a long day at school, Y/N goes to the park to relax and feed some ducks. A boy that she hadn’t seen before catches her eye... maybe a bit too much.

co-written with @spookyravioli, please check her out! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mildly dark content, including abuse, alcoholism, mental health issues, unhealthy relationship dynamics, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

Have you ever thought about being a worm?

No, not in the way that girls tend to ask their boyfriends if they’d still love them if they were a worm. Like, actually just being a worm. Being a cute, weird, squiggly little thing inching its way forward on the ground.

Because Y/N was doing so right now.

Y/N was staring at the ground, eyes beholding the sight of precisely three worms wiggling their way around the freshly rained-upon earth. It was odd, but she felt compelled to keep her eyes on the worms, watching them intently, not wanting to look up and away.

She was sitting on a swing, old and rackety and looking as if it was on the verge of collapse. Her beat-up shoes dug into the softness of the mud as she propelled herself forward, cringing at the creaking noise each movement made. The wooden seat was still damp from the humidity that lingered in the air, and the same moisture soaked through her clothes, causing them to cling uncomfortably to her body.

But what drew attention was the plastic pumpkin that covered her head, the only dry part of her right now. The pumpkin fully encased her head, leaving her eyes as the only thing visible, shining through the darkness inside. They were her most striking feature, being her only feature that was visible to others. Other than that, her head was just that of the pumpkin’s cheap plastic orange shell, merging seamlessly with the rest of her body almost as if it were natural.

The hollow inside of the pumpkin was nonetheless a bit stuffy, especially with the humid weather, but it also shielded her from the cold and gave her a certain pressure that kept her grounded to the earth. Without it, she would feel as if she was adrift at sea or perhaps like a ghost suspended in the air rather than a human being with corporal mass and weight. In some ways, she found the pumpkin to be an anchor, keeping her at bay and preventing her from drowning in the stresses of life. Granted, the pumpkin head was by no means physically comfortable, often causing her to sweat or feel like she was breathing her own breath over and over, but she wouldn’t want it any other way.

But that wasn’t her problem right now because, despite the general unpleasantness of being rained upon and the slight condensation building up inside the hollow pumpkin, she found peace in the moment.

What truly bothered her, though, more than the moistened seat of the swing, more than the dirt caking up on her shoes, more than the stuffiness of the pumpkin head, was that as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stare at the soil forever. So she forcefully tore her gaze away from the worms, lifting her head back up, the scenery changing to one of the forest that started at the ends of her backyard.

Staring out into the vastness of the woods, her eyes examined the various tones of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns that had fallen off the trees, carried through the air by the September winds.

It’s beautiful, she thought, watching the animals scurry about on the ground, the birds chirping joyfully and singing in tune. It was a calming atmosphere, with the earthy scent that comes after rain filling the air, inhaled along with each breath of oxygen.

But that wasn’t what her eyes searched for.

No, they were looking for something else, something different. She didn’t know what exactly she was looking for; all she knew was that what she was searching for was not something harmonious with the ever-so-fascinating ecosystem before her eyes.

What she looked for was something far more sinister. Something insidious, shadowing over her life with every step she took, its mere presence strong enough to throw everything out of balance.

Its gaze, empty and hollow and cast upon her entire being. She shivered, feeling a chill run down each individual section of her spine.

Even if that thing wasn’t even there to begin with, even if it was all in her head, the thought of it staring at her at this moment, analyzing and scrutinizing her for all she was worth, was enough for her to want to bury herself underneath the ground, lying there forever and hidden from its gaze.

Quickly, she dropped her eyes, lowering them back to the ground, back to the worms.

Soon, the worms would be gone, unseen until the next rainfall. Burrowing into the earth, tunnelling through the dirt in search of nutrients, blissful and happy with their simple lives under the ground. Away from its watch. Their only worry being the birds that soared high above, waiting for the perfect moment to sweep down on their prey or the higher-ranking insects on the food chain.

However, she would have to stay there, stay in that rusty old swing set, waiting for her mother to finish making breakfast before she would leave for an even bigger ecosystem: high school. Y/N didn’t have the luxury of hiding away in the ground, the luxury of leaving once things became too difficult; instead, she was forced to face her problems on the daily, dealing with them from behind that measly plastic pumpkin on her head. And even then, after she’d finished the school day, she couldn’t be shielded away from the presence that haunted her so often, the presence that she had been searching for just minutes ago.

What she wouldn’t give to be a worm right now.

“Y/N, breakfast is ready!”

The sound of her mother’s voice snapped Y/N out of her quickly spiralling thoughts, causing her to hop off the swing and then make her way towards the backdoor of her house. Now she would have other problems to deal with, other things to focus on other than that ominous presence that ingrained itself into her mind every day, taunting her with the absence of knowledge as to what it is, rendering her to merely a puppet longing to see its master, yet only able to face the audience.

The brisk air, the grey puffs of clouds, and the worms crawling about the ground were left behind as she entered the house, shutting the door behind her, replacing it with the warmth of the indoors. As she took her shoes off, replacing them with slippers that gently tapped against the tiled floor, that was now the only thing that engulfed her mind, her eyes zoning in on the kitchen table before her. It was almost as if she was ignoring the world around her, with the way she sat down on the chair and looked straight at her plate in silence.

Through the hollow eyes of the plastic pumpkin that surrounded her head, she stared at the food in front of her, her eyes widening with joy, practically sparkling as she gazed at the sight before her. And through the rigid shell of the pumpkin’s exterior, she was able to shut out the man sitting beside her at the end of the table, shut out the words that spilled out of her mother’s mouth as she finished setting the table.

Shut out the world around her, just as it was intended to do. Because sometimes the world got a bit too heavy, a bit too overwhelming, a bit too much for her to handle. Because sometimes her surroundings alone were enough to overstimulate her. The plastic pumpkin served perfectly as a divider between her and the world, shutting her into her own little space, able to safely interact with the rest of her world through invisible glass panels.

And she knew it was strange; she knew that she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Everyone else did too. That didn’t stop her, however. She still kept it on at almost all times, to the point where even her teachers had given up on trying to get her to take it off at school.

Back to breakfast, though.

Her mom had made pancakes, and she couldn’t take her eyes off them, taking in every little detail that seemed to make her head fuzzier by the minute. The way the maple syrup dripped off the sides of the neatly stacked pancakes, the way the slices of bananas laid on top, complementing the glistening brown syrup with their soft yellow colour, the way the texture was so light and fluffy, enticing her, beckoning her to stab into them with her fork, squish them in her mouth…

Oh, and the scent, the scent was ever so divine, a heavenly blend of banana, maple, and freshly made pancake that sent her straight to cloud nine.

There was not a single person in the world who made pancakes as well as her mother did; she was sure of that. Not even Gordon Ramsey could compete. They were so ethereal that the man beside her had to snap his fingers in front of her face to snap her out of her trance.

Y/N jerked her head up at the source, turning towards the smiling man, John, her stepfather, with confusion and slight embarrassment, remembering how her mother was talking, and she hadn’t listened to a single word of it. She worried then that perhaps it was something important.

“Everything alright, kiddo? You looked kind of spaced out there.” John’s voice rang in her ears as she stared into his mocha brown eyes that mimicked that of freshly poured hot cocoa.

Y/N paused for a moment, processing his words in her mind.

“I’m okay,” she stated, her voice so soft that it was almost a whisper, yet she knew the man heard her clearly. Returning to her breakfast, now picking up her fork and beginning to eat, she lifted the edge of the plastic pumpkin up and over her mouth, stopping just above her nose.

“Are you sure? You don’t think it’d be easier to eat if you took that thing off?” John asked while raising an eyebrow.

“I guess, yeah.” Y/N agreed with him, hoping it’d get the interaction over faster. It didn’t.

“I mean, doesn’t it get stuffy in there?” John questioned again, taking a sip of his coffee, yet he didn’t take his eyes off her, making Y/N slightly shrink into her seat.

“No, I’m fine.” was the only thing that left her mouth, unsure what else to say.

“Alright, whatever you think, kiddo.” John shrugged, but luckily that was the end of it, his final remark said before he went back to face her mother.

With a small sigh leaving her lips, Y/N returned to her food, yet she couldn’t truly indulge in it like she previously wanted to, almost as if the magic had dissipated, leaving her with nothing but a bleak morning breakfast. Y/N could feel the occasional glances from John, glances so quick that she could barely decipher them, yet she knew it was something that had to do with her, causing her to shrink more into her seat. What was once delectable flavours bursting in her mouth was now just the chewing of food, each bite more tiring and boring than the last; the fluffiness of the pancakes having seemingly evaporated, leaving her with something that felt akin to rubber.

It didn’t matter. She just needed to finish breakfast and catch the bus to school.

That’s why she was even there in the first place.

—

The room was cold. That was the only thing she thought of as she stood in the school gymnasium. While the flimsy t-shirt and mandatory long shorts that reached her knees did little to protect her from the blasting A.C., her pumpkin head kept her face warm and safe, the feeling resembling the one she got from laying under her weighted blanket and curling up underneath the comforting pressure.

She was in her last period, P.E., sitting on the bench with all the other girls, waiting for the teacher to finish droning on about the benefits of dodgeball. She glanced to the other side of the gymnasium—the boys were already destroying one another, each hurling the ball with such force as if trying to surpass the speed of light. The loud sounds of laughter and yelps of pain felt overwhelming for Y/N, but thanks to the pumpkin head, she was able to shut it out, rendering the sounds to mere background noise.

It was both scary and amusing how the day could pass by so quickly. It seemed like just a few minutes ago, she was still in her first period, staring out the window, gazing out towards the grey morning skies. Now it was already afternoon, and she couldn’t see it, but the rainclouds indeed would have lifted, revealing the brilliant glow of the sun beneath.

“Alright girls, pick your teams!” the coach instructed, finally finishing her spiel. Two girls—it was the same ones each time—stood up and took turns picking from the other girls on the bench, making their teams.

Y/N was never much of a fan of dodgeball or sports in general. The idea of having balls hurled at you didn’t exactly appeal to her, and she didn’t think her hand-eye coordination was the best either. Still, it was mainly the pressure of constantly being alert and moving around that was overwhelming to her. Perhaps she was just lazy, but the thought of her having to dart around, dodging scary foam or rubber—she wasn’t sure—balls was already intimidating, causing her to already want to slump down and lie on the floor. Maybe even play dead.

From what she could tell, most girls felt the same way as her, except for the few that took P.E. a bit too seriously.

She didn’t have a choice here, though, as she was now standing on one side of the gymnasium with her team, the fear of the ball colliding with her body making her tremble uncomfortably.

The game started with a blow from the teacher’s whistle. Some of the girls opposing her dashed towards the center line, picking up their balls while Y/N remained in the back, hoping that she could avoid the crossfire.

Then one of the girls who did, in fact, take P.E. far too seriously (and also did not like Y/N very much) picked up their ball and glanced at her, the way an eagle would lock its eyes on its prey, and at that moment she knew she couldn’t escape. She tried to prepare herself to dodge, but as soon as the ball left the other girl’s hand, she realized her body’s response was neither to fight nor to flight but to freeze.

So there she stood, like a deer still before the headlights of a car that was about to come crashing into them.

And just like that car, the ball was flying towards her, soon to slam into her chest.

And just like that deer, Y/N fell backwards, her tailbone painfully hitting the smooth gymnasium floor, her elbows sliding against it. She couldn’t breathe, the ball having effectively winded her, and everything felt like too much at that moment—the burn from the friction against the ground, the jolt of discomfort that shot up her tailbone straight into her spine, and the feeling of the ball ramming into her ribcage all replaying over and over. It was sensory hell.

The girl who had hit her was walking towards Y/N, stopping a few feet before her. Some of the other girls had paused their playing and were now glancing over at the scene.

“Whoops, sorry.” the girl apologized, but Y/N could tell that she didn’t really mean it, with the way she looked to the side as she said those words, her voice monotone, not conveying either care or regret for the situation; it was glaringly apparent that she did it intentionally and only apologized in fear of the consequences.

And so, Y/N forced herself to sit up with a struggle, slightly wincing at the movement of her muscles.

“It’s fine,” she muttered quietly, getting up and walking towards the bench.

It was what she had wanted originally, to sit on the bench and wait until school was over, but the sight of seeing the other girls having fun playing without her was ever so slightly painful. It was a fun that wasn’t present when she was there with them, a fun that she couldn’t have because she was weird, she was weak.

And she knew that’s what everyone else thought of her, as well. While she wasn’t bullied in school, nor harassed, which she was grateful for, she also couldn’t ignore the strange looks they gave her, the way they hesitated before speaking to her, the whispers behind her back when they thought she wasn’t listening, and worst of all, the snide comment someone would make every once in a while.

‘Weirdo.’ That was the word she heard the most often, but that was from her fellow students. ‘Childish’ was the one most often used by the teachers, as they shook their heads in disapproval of her wearing her pumpkin head at school, calling her mother up for a meeting occasionally to discuss Y/N’s ‘unsociable behaviour.’

Sometimes, she just wanted to tear the pumpkin off her head so that she could walk like all the others, talk like all the others, and live like all the others. And she had tried to do so, she had tried so many times, over and over and over, but every time she tried, she felt so vulnerable, she felt so defenceless.

She felt like a baby bird, freshly hatched from its egg, featherless and unable to fly, just prey for larger animals to feed upon.

So, she wore it for comfort, even if that meant sitting on the bench alone.

—

The crisp September wind was ever so present, making her bring her knees up to her chest as she sat on the wooden park bench, bundling herself up tightly within her own clothing.

In her hands were some uneaten crackers from lunch, and at her feet were some happy ducks quacking for more of said crackers. It made her chuckle, the way they resembled little babies cooing at their mothers, their happiness reflecting in how they waddled closer step by step, like a toddler learning to walk. Y/N felt special, seeing how they were willing to leave the comfort of the pond behind them, walk up to her for food, trusting her like they always did.

And she had rightfully earned it, crumbling the cracker within her closed fist and opening it to throw the crushed pieces towards them, watching them rush towards the food.

She found it a bit pathetic that she felt more of a connection to the ducks in the local park than the peers in her school, but like her pumpkin head, it brought a particular type of comfort to her that nothing else could.

And just like everything else today, that comfort was taken away from her.

Her pleasant moment of serenity was shattered by the sound of a boy laughing at one of the ducks, which had just aggressively ripped a large piece of bread out of his pale hands. The sound was accompanied by the teasing of an older girl, saying how even ducks could beat him for a piece of bread. It was a melody of an interaction that Y/N had never experienced before—the playful teasing of someone instead of subtle, passive-aggressive comments that would confuse her on whether they were jokes or real insults.

Her eyes darted toward and focused on the source of the sound from behind the safety of her pumpkin head, like a cat experimenting with a small piece of yarn.

She could see them clearly, at the other end of the pond; a boy, a girl, and an older woman who Y/N assumed to be their mother.

The mother was sitting on the bench opposing her, watching her children give bread to the ducks and enjoy themselves. A soft yet tired look graced her features; it reminded Y/N of her own mother, who often donned that expression. Her brown hair was tied up neatly in a bun, and her green eyes were reminiscent of the rich colour of summer’s leaves. She was sitting elegantly with her maroon coat and black boots, complete with a beige scarf; Y/N would even say she was overdressed for the weather.

The girl appeared to be a young adult, older than the boy, who appeared to be about her age but not by much, likely his older sister. Her long, platinum blonde hair was tied into a low ponytail, brilliant and shining and impressively long, falling down to her waist in soft waves, her hair reminding her of Rapunzel. She wore a white sweater, cropped short at her waist, with a pair of baby blue jeans that weren’t too tight but at the same time still hugged her curves well; she resembled one of those girls in the magazines you’d see in the store. And her eyes, those light green eyes, were similar to her mother’s; only hers were brighter, like the green grass of a springtime meadow. She was nothing short of gorgeous.

However, no one caught her attention more than the boy.

Freckles adorned his pale skin, pale to an unnatural, concerning degree. If she was younger and still believed that vampires existed, perhaps she would have suspected he was one. Y/N could only assume that he didn’t go out much. His hair was brown and fluffy, tousled and she couldn’t help but find herself yearning to run her fingers through it, to feel if his chocolate brown locks were as soft as they looked. He was dressed in much more plain attire, unlike his mother and sister; he wore a thick striped sweater with the colours of the season, autumn. Aside from the sweater, he only wore some wide-length jeans, darker blue and much more casual and looser than what his sister had on. He looked cute in a strange way. And his eyes, bold and with a fiery spark of amber, practically taking on a golden glow, she couldn’t resist staring at them even though she had learned that it was rude to stare.

It got worse the moment they made eye contact.

His eyes were mesmerizing, drawing her in; so many emotions in one glance alone that made her breath fall short. Even if they were narrowing, confusion and irritation now painted on his face, she couldn’t bring herself to stop staring. It was like she was paralyzed, like she was staring at the scene of a car crash, knowing that she should look away yet not being able to, her body trembling as he was now whispering to his mom and sister, both of them also looking at her with discomfort.

At that very moment, Y/N felt an assortment of feelings.

On the one hand, she was afraid. He was like everyone else, a seemingly ordinary teenage boy just hanging out with his family by the park, likely now creeped out from being stared at by a stranger with a pumpkin head for a face. Now that she thought about it, she was surprised that he didn’t stare at her sooner; most people did. Perhaps now he and his family would leave, uncomfortable with her presence, or maybe he’d start making fun of her to his family, jeering at her appearance and calling her what she was—a weirdo that didn’t know not to stare.

But on the other hand, she was utterly and entirely captivated. She couldn’t stop looking at him even if his reaction was negative. She had never met someone so enthralling; never in the sixteen years she had lived in this town had she seen someone so oddly entrancing. She concluded from that that he must be new, seeing as she had lived in this town her whole life and had never seen him once before. Rarely did they have newcomers in this small town. Thoughts blossomed in her head about who he might be and why he was here.

It was a bizarre feeling. Was this what her stepfather referred to when he spoke of his hormonal teenage years? She didn’t know.

But what she did know was that the boy had stepped away from his family and was now circling around the pond, marching his way directly towards her, sending her straight into a newfound state of panic, her body freezing against her will. At that moment, she was sent back into P.E. class all over again, but this time he was the dodgeball. A beguiling, enchanting dodgeball, but terrifying and approaching her at a rapid pace nonetheless.

And like in P.E., she was paralyzed, continuing to helplessly stare, all the while trembling in her spot as he neared her, stopping a few feet before her and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you staring at?”

next chapter soon...

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7vvch · 1 year

Text

More Ticci Toby x reader headcanons cus I said so

Toby hates fighting with you, and even when you are fighting he says stuff he doesnt mean and regrets it later

BUT dont get me wrong he isnt that soft, if you fucked up you fucked up and he can murder you anytime

He isn't very social so you better be happy staying with him in his apartment

Toby is really possesive over you, he doesn't want anyone else to touch you or someone to hurt you

If someone does that they wont hurt anything again

His moodswings are terrible, but if you love him you can handle them right?

I just dont see Toby wanting relationship with anyone but this is x reader headcanons so uh yea

He didnt have many partners through his life so youre a new "thing" to him

He doesnt want you to leave his apartment, I know it sounds shitty and yandere BUT when he needs to go on his secret little mission he wont be bothered to lock you in his apartment room

Just so yk wouldnt leave him

If you do tend to break up with him, good luck

You've fucked up darling, he'd either beat you till death or drive you and kill you somewhere in woods

Id just say be careful with this one and don't make him angry<3

~Tina

#ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #yandere ticci toby #ticci toby hc #ticci toby headcanons #toby erin rogers #toby rogers #im back on my bs

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purplepuddlesuwu · 1 year

Text

"Heh I finally caught you! Now nothing and no one will get in the way of us being together!"

Yeah I know he isn't suppose to be a creepypasta anymore but bleh this guy has been in the fandom for a long ass time and taking him out of it just doesn't feel right. I'll rewrite his whole character if I have to I love this little silly guy. I already got an idea of how I wanna rewrite him and he's not gonna be all that goofy cause come on look at him this man is a serial killer!

#art #digital art #artists on tumblr #artwork #digital drawing #digital illustration #digital artist #ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta #toby creepypasta #yandere #male yandere #drawing #digitalart

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kastcway · 1 year

Text

#my art tag #creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rodgers #marble hornets #toby rogers #creepypasta fanart #cw: gore #gore #cw vent #cw body horror #guro cw #yandere

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w1steriaz · 2 months

Note

Yandere Ben Drowned with Fox Demon Spirit S/O.

I'm going to assume you ment a one shot.

Character- Ben Drowned

Fandom- Creepypasta

Reader- Gender!Neutral

Summary- Ben with his lovely Fox demon spirit partner!!

Tw: Manipulation, Controlling. Yandere.

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

꒰აBen Drowned໒꒱

This man was exhausted out of his mind. Constat missions, dealing with everyone's attitude really took a lot out of him. However he was more laid back then most. Finding himself cracking jokes while being stressed. A coping mechanism he created for himself after being a heavily traumatized spirit.

Well until he met you. God, you made him feel so blissful. Like time stopped all around him. Really ironic for him since he always professed "your time is up." His own quote coming to bite at him. He never saw that even coming.

You always made him laugh, and cheer up. He loved everything about you. Petting your ears and how intriguing your visual design is. That once you admitted to liking him he without a thought reciprocated the feelings back. At the moment his arms and smaller figure clinged onto you.

"You have no idea how happy you make me love.."

His voice whispered into your ear. Sending shivers down your spine. You two were simply cuddled up on the couch. He enjoyed these moments. Never been a crazy fan of weird interactions with couples. Watching movies and having you by him was enough.

However what you failed to realize behind the scenes. His jokey outward appearance, was a dark and evil man. Anywhere you went he knew about. Cameras constantly on you, thousands of pictures plastered in his closet kept secret. He was smart to never let you know. In fear you'd leave him by becoming frightened.

If anyone flirted or even got to close. He'd make you forget them. Drugging you in your sleep. It was your most vulnerable state after all. As well as learning your pressure points. Studying you, every inch of you he knew.

Your pressure points allowed access to make you dizzy, and bring you to an unconscious state. He couldn’t allow you to go to far out..right?

If you ever found out about his obsession he'd trap you. Make you stuck in his computer forever. The safest place where he can view you at all times. Control you. Manipulation was his biggest advantage. He constantly guilt tripped you into doing things you didn't want.

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

#slenderman #ben drowned #jeff the killer #eyeless jack #toby rogers #creepycore #yandere

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the-ship-maker-2 · 11 months

Note

Hear me out can you please do a yandere Bloody and Tiki Toby with a quiet and gentle darling that wears Jirai Kai fashion because of their abandonment issues and because it's cute

And where the darling asks him if they can paint his nails / put ribbons in his hair / do their makeup

I'm sorry if this is too much or the sounds weird

Yandere!bloody painter and ticci toby with a s/o who wears jirai Kai fashion who asks them if they can give them a makeover HCs

-bloody painter was shocked when you asked him that

-do you think he doesn't look good enough for you?

-however you've been well behaved recently he's willing to reward you by allowing you to do a makeover on him

-he draws the line at dressing him up.

-femboy egirl anyone

-A MAKEOVER?!

-hes ecstatic

-sure he'll let you do whatever you want with him

-aa long as he gets to spend time with you.

-its a good bonding experience. And good quality time

I hope you like these and feel free to ask again!

#ask box #answered #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #yandere! bloody painter #helen otis #ticci toby #toby rogers #head canons #send me requests #please flood my inbox #please and thank you

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creepypasta65 · 8 months

Note

Is it alright is I can please request a Yandere Ticci Toby and Yandere X virus/Cody in love with the same (GN) S/O?

(if you like to spice things up a bit the S/O is not a creepypasta?)

Thanks for the request. Also, I love your pfp :)

Yandere Toby and Yandere Xvirus/Cody in love with the same s/o:

Toby:

Toby is furious that Cody is also in love with you. Toby wants to have you all to himself and not share.

He will confront Cody about his feelings towards you and tell him to stay away from you.

He doens't want to hurt Cody, but if he has to then, he will.

Cody:

Cody is mad that Toby is also in love with you.

He gets furious when Toby takes you away from him. He will tell Toby to stay away from you.

Cody sees Toby as an older brother and will not hurt Toby, but he's mad that Toby is stealing you away.

He will lock you away where Toby could never find you.

Have a nice day :)

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta hcs #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby hc #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta ticci toby #yandere ticci toby #tobias erin rogers #yandere xvirus #yandere creepypasta #cody creepypasta #xvirus x reader #xvirus headcanons #creepypasta xvirus

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homankfc · 2 years

Photo

Blood warning I guess?

Lol I forgot to post that comic and the yanadre Chan pic

#scar #gtws fanart #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #yandere #yandere simulator #yandere sim #creepypasta art #creepypasta #creepy pasta #creepypasta au #Toby Rogers #ticci toby #jeff the killer #jeff woods #jeffery woods #kate #kate the chaser #y/n finally appears!

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astupidweeb69 · 5 months

Text

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 8

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Next Chapter: Part 9

Author’s Note: I know this chapter is a lot shorter than my previous one's but, I figured it was better than nothing. I might end up rewriting this to make it longer or something.

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Some threats of violence. (1,276 words)

___________________________________________________________

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said it so genuinely, like there was nothing wrong with the situation. Like he hadn’t taken you from your home, stalked you, tormented you, fucking bashed your head in with a baton. He said the words as if he was just a regular school boy confessing to his crush.

It made you sick to your stomach.

“Well? Are you guh-going to say something?”

He sounded impatient, as if you were the one in the wrong somehow. You looked up from the ground, his dark eyes and expression turning colder each second that passed.

“You’re insane.”

Wrong answer.

Toby’s face dropped, and with a heavy tension in the air, he raised his arm, his hand closing into a fist.

You prepared for the worst.

Then, Toby took a sharp breath, holding it for a moment, and exhaled. Slowly lowering his hand again. Trying to muster up the strength to not lash out, most likely.

“I’ll give you some time to warm up to me. I wuh-won’t hurt you.” He paused, thinking. “I’ll tuh-try not to.”

He didn’t sound very convincing.

You decided to hold your tongue for the time being. At least until you came up with a game plan to get out of this fucking place.

Toby sat down on the couch next to you, still pissed off. The sudden shift in weight causing you to look over at him. It was hard not to notice just how big he was. Tall and lanky, but at this distance it was obvious he did some kind of exercise. He’d be hard to take down on your own, and you’d need some kind of weapon that could immediately incapacitate him. He couldn’t feel pain. You knew that now.

“See suh-somethin’ you luh-like?”

Your thoughts were interrupted, noticing the wide grin stretched across Toby’s face as he looked you over. You had been staring.

Albeit, you were trying to figure out how to kick his ass, but you had been staring nonetheless.

Frowning, you decided it was best to stay silent, choosing to just shake your head ‘no’.

Toby sighed. The noise making you jump a little. “There’s nothing you can do now.” He put his arm around you, your body tensing as you were pulled into him. “And that’s okay.”

The ends of fingers started playing with your hair.

“It isn’t.”

Your voice came out quieter than you’d had hoped. But soon rose from desperation, sadness, anger or a combination of the three.

“It isn’t okay. I have a life, I have fucking friends who care about me, you can’t just tell me it’s okay. God! How could a person be so selfish?!”

“Because I can.” Toby hissed. “Fuh-for once I can be selfish. I finally found suh-something that I want. So I’m going to get it. Even if I have to drag you back here kicking and screaming over and over again.”

His words sunk in, like a rock falling into a bottomless pit.

“You’ll have to.”

Toby laughed cruelly at your response, not phased at all by your determination. He leaned forward in his seat, playing and picking with the skin on his hands. His nose scrunched in a smile, and he turned his head to you, putting a hand on your knee. “That’s fine. I duh-don’t mind a cat and muh-mouse chase every once in a while.”

____________________________________________________________

You felt numb. Your brain buzzing, probably the after effects from the head injury Toby gave you. All the energy you had was focused on the fireplace on the other side of the room. You could hear your captor behind you in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards. After a couple of failed attempts to get you to speak, he resorted to pacing the cabin, occasionally glaring at you. Muttering phrases and curses under his breath. He finally stopped when your stomach started growling, quickly making his way to the fridge to find you something to eat. Of course, you didn’t ask him to. You decided you weren’t going to ask him for anything.

But there was one thing that had started to bug you, well, other than the whole kidnapping thing.

Scanning the room more intently, you noticed two hatchets that hung by the front door. One with a bright orange handle, and the other dull and wooden. They looked well used, and if it wasn’t your paranoia just seeing things, there were definitely specks of red on the handles and on the holster they hanged from.

It made you wonder what Toby did in his free time.

Sure, you had asked him before if he was going to kill you. And he had alluded to murdering people in his fits of rage. And although you never saw any evidence of it, bloody fucking axes on the wall seemed like pretty solid proof.

You moved closer to get a better look at them.

“Hey. Yuh-your food.”

A bowl of cold soup was shoved in front of your face.

Toby stood next to you frowning, trying to figure out what you were looking so intensely at.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I was - um….. Nothing?” You stammer back.

He placed the bowl into your hand and walked over to the wall, lifting the leather holster off the hooks. The blades of the hatchets swung as he carried them over, before sitting down on a musty chair across from you.

“You like em’?” Toby asked, a hint of tease in his voice, like he was trying to be playful.

“Not really” You shot back.

“Aw, yuh-you’re hurting my feelings.”

Toby took the orange one out of the holster, tossing it back and forth in his hands with ease. He looked up at you for a moment and smirked, before l lifting the handle behind his head, and throwing it forward. It missed your head by a few inches, but you still ducked instinctively. The blade connected on the other side of the wall with a loud ‘THUNK’, the force knocking some empty bottles off the window sill and shattering on the floor.

“What the fuck!”

He cackled at your reaction, throwing his head back in the chair. After a few moments he collected himself.

“Duh-don’t worry, I have good aim.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. "Why do you have those?”

He glanced over at the hatchet embedded in the wall and then back to you. “Firewood.” Was his curt response.

You didn’t believe him.

A small buzzing sound came from Toby’s pocket, startling you both for a moment. He furrowed his brows, before taking out his phone, and glanced down at the screen. He grimaced, reading through something.

“F-fuck.”

If you were wanting an explanation, you weren’t going to get one. Because he got up from his chair and angrily stormed through his home, saying nothing, and grabbing items to get ready for something. He stopped in front of you with a small plastic bag.

Zip ties.

Of course he would tie you up.

“Get up.”

You rose to your feet hesitantly, not liking his tone at all. Something in those texts must have set him off. His hand quickly grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you back to his bedroom where you had first woken up in this hell hole. He threw you onto the bed, and placed your wrist against a metal pole on his bed frame, securing the zip tie to your hands so you couldn’t move. Toby grinned once he was done.

“There. Suh-so you don’t get any ideas while I’m guh-gone.”

Before he left the house, you heard him call out.

“I’ll be back soon!”

#creepypasta #ticci toby #reader insert #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x reader #yandere ticci toby x reader #yandere creepypasta x reader #yandere #toby rogers #fanfiction #my writing #yandere ticci toby

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safe-by-dawn · 10 months

Note

Hi! I loved the Toby headcanons you wrote! Can we please get a yandere nsfw Ticci Toby x reader?

~Possession~

Yandere!Ticci Toby/Toby Rogers x SlightlyDeranged!Reader (Smut)

Requests are currently open!

MDNI!

My first request! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing them and I can't wait to get some time to write for some more Pastas! I got some good ideas up my sleeve.

Also I made the reader super into the fact that Toby fucks up anybody that even gets near his s/o, so if you were thinking of a more innocent/scared reader just send me another ask but but honestly anybody that gets with Toby better be into that because he's gonna burn cities for his s/o.

I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I did writing it!

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Public Sex.

Let me know if I should add anything to the warnings! I try my best to add what I think is necessary but sometimes I can't tell when something should be included.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh there and it was enough to make your heart drop for the poor man that had taken up residence next to you at the bar. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He didn’t know that the small touch that still lingered on your thigh would be his one way ticket to an early demise.

He didn’t know that the other man beside you practically owned you at this point, and he surely didn’t know that you took some sick, demented enjoyment out of watching the way he gets when he’s jealous. It’s lethal.

“Won’t you come home with me, darling?” The words are slurred, barely even there when he leans towards your ear.

You can practically feel Toby stiffen beside you, radiating anger in such a way that it seeps into your clothes and fuses into your bones leaving a sweet, delicious ache in the pit of your stomach. He’s a good fuck normally, but the switch that flips when he gets jealous is unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

“I suggest you take your hand off me,” Your eyes finally meet his, a coy smile playing at your lips, “If you want to make it through the night, that is.”

Your hand moves to push the man’s off your thigh, but he keeps your flesh in a vice-grip as he speaks, “Feisty, I love that in a woman.”

You can’t help the small giggle that pulls its way out of your throat as you feel Toby finally move. You don’t know how he’s held back for this long. You know the jealousy is burning in him, and his eyes are on the two of you. You don’t even have to look over at him to know it. Toby’s own hand finally shoots out and in one swift motion, grabs the man's fingers and twists, pushing them towards him and you hear the sickly snap before you see the way his fingers are now bent, definitely broken.

He might have a chance if he stops now, but now you have anger on both sides of you, and you just know it won’t end here. You know Toby has no reason to hold back, and he won’t. He doesn’t know how. Not anymore.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” The man pushes out of his seat, moving towards the man that just snapped his fingers.

The bar stool scratches heavily against the wood floor as Toby finally stands, gripping onto the man's collar and practically dragging him out of the dingy dive bar. They’re out of the door before you can even stand, and you take a moment to fish an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of your pocket, pulling one out and lighting it before reaching for the money you kept in the back pocket of your jeans.

It’s at least a hundred but you don’t count it before throwing it down. Call it payment for damages for when someone finally finds that sour fucker’s body the next morning.

You pull a drag from your cigarette as you move to get up, your own bar stool screeching into the air and you finally allow yourself to look to the only duo that rests in the corner of the bar and giving them a small smile. Their eyes pull quickly away from yours and you finally make your way outside into the just as disgusting night air that surrounds the establishment.

You can hear him before you see him. The labored grunts of him most likely already crushing the man’s head in is just around the corner, leading into the dark alleyway, and the fact that you can only hear Toby is a sure sign that he’s almost done with the man. His life’s probably gone, but Toby has so much anger stored in his body from that interaction that he might be there for a moment before he feels like he’s finally finished with him.

The scene you walk into is much worse than you expected, and some part of you is glad that it’s dark. The wall behind them is a disgusting inky color that you can only guess is blood. Some broken bones, arms contorted in a way that makes your stomach turn, even after getting comfortable with seeing what kind of aftermath Toby can leave behind, it’s a little bit much.

Toby has his hands splayed onto the brick of the wall, holding himself stable as his foot sinks another kick into the limp leftovers of the man on the ground. Once you finally make it closer to him you can hear him whispering, voice coming out in a low growl that sets your skin on fire.

Mine, she’s mine.

You let your hands rest on his back, pushing to wrap around him, hands coming to rest just under his shirt on his bare stomach. You let your thumbs toy at the waistband before gripping onto it, and it usually serves to pull Toby back to the real world. Tugging him out of his thoughts proves to be a little harder tonight, but his hand comes to rest on one of yours before he lets the man have one more kick before pushing himself off of the wall and turning his face towards you.

It’s splattered with dark red, and if you hadn’t known him, you would think it was his own, but you know the man doesn’t have a single scratch on him. You pull your hand from his waistband to tug the cigarette out of your mouth after taking a long draw, moving it to Toby’s mouth and pressing the butt of it to his lips. He pulls his own draw off of it before you toss it to the ground, not worrying about stomping it out. You wouldn’t have time even if you had wanted to.

Toby’s lips crash hard against your own after he exhales the smoke, and you drink him in like you’ve been thirsting your whole life and he’s the water you’ve fought so hard to finally reach. Your teeth hit his in the mess of a kiss, and you’re sure he’s drawn blood when he finally bites at your bottom lip.

“You’re fucking mine.” His voice comes out with a growl of arousal and over-exhaustion, and it only serves to push you closer to the brink and his hands aren’t even on you yet. His usual stutter is nowhere to be found, lost in the clouded haze of anger and post-murder. His mind’s only on one thing and it’s you. All of it is you.

“All yours.”

You can barely get the words out before he’s pushing and pulling, pressing your back hard against the other side of the alleyway and his mouth finds its way to your throat. He bites hard, no doubt leaving a bruise already forming. You can feel him all around you, hands all over your body, pulling at your clothes and undoing the button on your jeans. He pushes them down quickly, and the way the night air presses heavily into your form is the only thing to remind you that you’re still outside.

Anybody could see you, anybody could see what he’s done, and anybody can see the mess he’s about to make of you. It sends a delicious chill up your spine. His lips press against yours once more before he’s pulling away and pressing your face into the brick of the building, no doubt scratching you up a bit, but it’s worth it. It’ll all be worth it as long as he takes you right here. You’re far enough in the dark that as long as nobody follows the sounds pouring from your mouth then you’ll be just fine.

His mouth lands on your shoulder and even through the fabric, the weight of his bite tears a shriek out of you. “Keep making those sounds for me.” His voice filters into your ears, and you can’t help but push back into him. The thin fabric of your panties does little to keep the denim of his jeans from rubbing you deliciously, and you can feel every inch of him through his jeans. You’re practically drooling at this point and he knows it.

“You’re fucking sick, y’know that?” He speaks before he presses a smaller bite into your earlobe and his hand finally pulls your panties down to meet where your jeans rest at the bottom of your thighs. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?” His scarred fingers finally press against your slit, pushing just enough to feel how wet you are, but not giving you what you wanted just yet.

You can only nod, words not able to form in the knot he has tied in your throat.

“You get off on me killing for you,” He laughs then, absolutely deranged, exactly how you like him. “You’re- You’re just like me.”

His fingers finally circle your clit, pulling some of the pent-up arousal out of you in the form of a moan and the words finally slip out of you, “Jus’ like you, Toby, Fuck.” You huff as his fingers work you, pulling you closer to your edge and you can feel him trying to undo his pants with one hand and your mouth waters at the thought of him finally filling you up.

“You love me?” He asks, he always asks and you always answer.

“Only you, Toby.”

He leaves another bite on your shoulder as he pulls himself out of his pants, resting against your ass and never slowing his hand on your cunt as he says his next words, “Then cum for me, baby.” It comes out as a whine, begging, delicious, and twisting your insides.

It pushes you so close, almost to the edge. As he finally slips into you, you tumble, falling over the edge as his hips finally snap into you. He fucks you through it, as words fall out of your mouth in an incoherent mess and you can only hear him chuckle behind you. You can only feel his hands on you as he finally pulls off of your sensitive clit to grip heavily onto your hips. All you can do is brace yourself as he fucks into you, chasing his own high.

His grunts fill the Alley, and the way he growls sets you on fire as your body tries to come down from its high. He doesn’t let it though, cock pressing hard into your sweet spot with each thrust. His hips hit against you with a bruising weight as he fills you to the brim with every bit of him, every inch stretches you out deliciously. You can feel it coming again, can feel the tight coil in your abdomen get worse with every thrust.

He finally snaps his hips and keeps them pressed against you and him cumming inside of you pulls you over the edge for a second time like a noose tied around a rock and your neck and he just threw it into the ocean.

You both come undone and your cunt milks him for everything he’s worth. His growls fill the air around you as he ruts against you, thrusting another time before he pulls out of you. Your mixed fluids leak out the smallest bit before he’s pulling your clothes up and buttoning your jeans for you. He lands a light smack to your ass before he’s finally fixing himself and his hand finds purchase in your hair to finally pull you off the wall and into him.

His thumb presses heavily into your cheek, smearing the blood from the scratches the dirty brick gave you before he presses it into his tongue. He’s fucking deranged, but you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t admit you were just as fucked up as he was.

#i wanna write something a bit more graphic but ill save that for another day #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #fanfic #toby rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader smut #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby

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bloodblanks · 1 year

Text

pumpkin head [ticci toby x reader] — prologue.

Life wasn’t always easy. But when it got hard, Y/N had a solution: take a hollow plastic pumpkin and put it over her head. No, seriously. It helped. It’s a valid coping mechanism, goddammit. But then Toby Rogers, a homeschooled outcast who might be even more of a freak than she is develops a morbid interest—or what normal people call a crush—on her. And she’s also getting stalked by a mysterious entity called the Operator. All of a sudden, Y/N’s plastic pumpkin isn’t enough to shield her away from the world and keep her safe anymore. No, she wasn’t going to take it off, but somehow, Toby was still interested in her even with it on.

co-written with @spookyravioli, please check her out! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mildly dark content, including abuse, alcoholism, mental health issues, unhealthy relationship dynamics, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

“If I can’t have you, no one can.”

Time seemed to stop. At first, it was in slow motion, the way his fingers, caked in coagulating crimson, took hold of the box of matches, the way he slid the case open, the way he reached inside, taking out a singular matchstick, the once pale and thin wood now also tainted red. It was still in slow motion, time appearing to stretch out endlessly as he brought the match to the rough brick-coloured sides of the box, swiping it across and striking a newborn flame, birthed from the friction.

But then he raised his hand out, fingers loosening their grip on the frail matchstick, and it was right then and there that time came to a startling halt.

The scene before her played out like a video that had just been put on pause. And she, too, was paralyzed, staring in horror at the sight before her, unable to move a muscle. In this frozen space of time, it was just the two of them—her, standing still, eyes wide in terror, and him, eyes downcast, the slightest hint of tears still visible, running along his waterline.

The match fell.

Dropped from his fingers and hitting the floor, the room was set ablaze in a matter of seconds, fire bursting from the kerosene that he had drenched the room with, fire licking at the carpet, eating up the furniture, devouring the walls.

Everything was suddenly illuminated with an amber glow, the colour of the flames reflecting perfectly in his eyes as he finally raised them, staring straight into her.

It was like they had just met all over again, the sweet amber hue of his irises captivating her own; she found fatal attraction in them like a moth would a flame. And burn she did indeed, as all the sweetness left his eyes, the hue replaced by the fire that burst out before her, the fire that sent her body harshly colliding against the hard tiled floor, fully engulfing her unprotected form like vines entangling themselves around her limbs, dragging her down into a world of blazing, scorching pain.

She didn’t even have time to scream; instead, violent coughs erupted from her throat as she curled up into herself, back hunched over and knees brought up to her chest, miserably trying to prop herself up on her elbows.

The air was stolen from her lungs, replaced with the thick, heavy coat of smoke that was slowly descending upon her, clogging up her airway and causing her eyes to sting in irritation. Her esophagus felt as if acid had been poured down her vocal cords, searing and burning through her flesh.

She made another effort to try to get up, weakly pushing herself up on all fours. Still, she barely crawled a few steps away before the agony of the flames devouring her skin and the pulsating pain of the smoke sending sharp icepicks inside her brain became all too much to bear for her, and she’d collapse back down.

She came to the conclusion, then, that this was it. This was the end for her.

She was going to die.

She was going to die, in the kitchen of the boy she thought she loved, the boy she thought she could trust, the boy she thought truly understood her in a world where she had been isolated for so long, up until the very second they met.

And then he had become the boy who she had become mesmerized with the very moment their eyes met, the boy who she had opened up to and seen as her very first friend, the boy who she allowed herself to be vulnerable with, trusting him with both her body and heart, believing that he wouldn’t break it.

Because if there was one person in the world that she could rely on to be there for her even if no one else was, it would be him.

But now here she was, alone, with no one by her side, not even him. Here she was, alone.

Dying.

She had given him all of herself, entrusted everything to be in his hands. Entrusted herself to be in his hands. And he had held it, treating it with care, treating it as something so delicate, so fragile—only to allow it to shatter.

As he loosened his hold on the tiny little matchstick, as his fingers splayed out, letting it fall to the ground, he had let her go as well.

Now there she was, on the ground, every inch of her ignited with sheer torment, surrounded by the flames of what she would think to be Hell if she didn’t know better, if she wasn’t so painfully alive still.

If she wasn’t so painfully alive, the events replaying over and over in her mind like a broken cassette tape. The thought of his betrayal, hot and fresh and deep, wounding her where it had hurt most on repeat. The sound of his voice, hurt and betrayed and resentful, his last words to her playing on a loop. The vision of his amber eyes, puffy and bloodshot and still harbouring the slightest hint of tears, narrowed at her in an ever-present glare, etched in her mind.

It was all that she could think of, hear, and see.

She wondered then, how did things come to this? What could she have done differently to prevent this from happening? What had she done wrong for this to happen? Where did she make a mistake?

Not that it mattered anymore, because dark spots were clouding her vision, and she could both feel and see the smoke thickening, smothering her and causing her eyelids to feel heavier with each passing second.

As her eyelids fluttered like the desperate wings of a moth trying to fan out its own flames, she could feel her body’s desperate plea for her to just close her eyes, allow the fire to consume her, consume her just like he had, with the tender touch of his fingertips and the passionate movement of his lips.

He had taken everything from her, the fire finishing up the one last thing—her life.

As her fatigued eyes opened for the final time, through the spots in her vision, the haziness of her tears, and the dancing of the flames, was the silhouette of the tall man.

The horror of the realization dawned upon her, and at that moment, she too was burning, seething in pure blazing rage.

But what hurt the most, feeling like a spear of torment piercing straight through her heart, was that before her eyelids fell to a close, finally submerging her in the reprieve of unconsciousness—

She met his eyes one last time.

His bittersweet, amber eyes.

next chapter ->

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