nia's multifandom madness

they | need to find creds | blk am♥️⚜️🖤 | nblm

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Fresh Pump !! .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐

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Sweat? More like seasoning.

AKA: Asking the creeps for work out pics ✮⋆˙

Ft. T. Wright, B. Thomas, T. Rogers, J. Nyras, J. Woods, L. Woods, A Bad Habit, One Jack In The Box, & The Operator !!✶⋆.˚

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Sully you’ve moved me.

[loki090909]

𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙎 𝘽𝙀 𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 !

In which the creeps have a crush on you (and accidentally text you about it...)

A/N: SUPER SUPER THANKYOU for almost 200 followers <3 can you guys tell I love the accidental text trope LMFAOOOO. if you guys want a male version as well let me know because I could totally do that! also no habit because I could never see him doing this sorry 😔

Warnings: AFAB/ Fem! Reader, pure tooth rotting fluff <3

Including..: Toby R, Laughing Jack, and Eyeless Jack (Pt.1w/ Tim W, Brian T, BEN, and Jeff W. here!)

side note: toby is giving "I like someone and you know her very well" LMAOOOOO 😭

[xrisen-phoenixx]

Writer’s Muse

The creeps finding out you write fanfic

Includes: Mankind’s Bad Habit, Toby Rogers, Tim Wright, Brian Thomas, Cody Williams, Natalie Ouellette, Nina Hopkins, Jeffery Woods, Liu/Sully Woods, Jane Everlasting, Jack Nyras, Laughing Jack, BEN Downed

TW: Suggestive content

[thesunniestlittlesnail]

Sweet HC’s about; Laughing Jack

Super sweet HC’s about; Laughing Jack

Eats your nightmares. Like, he can literally just eat them. One of his favorite things about you is your horrendous, bone-chilling, gut-wrenching nightmares that he can use as inspiration! You haven’t woken up in a cold sweat since you’ve started dating. 

Follows you everywhere. There is not a place in this universe his gumdrop can hide from him, which makes hide and seek very unfair. 

Leaves you lots of candy, trinkets, and very dark lipstick stains everywhere. Pray for your white materials, because that shit is naught coming off.

Has a human ‘disguise’, and it’s in heavy finger quotations. You ever stare into a mirror for too long or look off into a foggy morning and imagine grotesque creatures crawling out of it? That’s what looking at Jack in human form is like. His teeth and lips are pitch black. He’s way too tall, gangly, and eerily pale. But Jack only uses it when he’s out in public with you. He may be a maniacal, murderous gothic clown—full stop—but that won’t stop him from taking you to amusement parks, carnivals, renaissance fairs, and festivals. 

Master of carnival games btw. You will leave with your arms full of huge stuffed animals, balloons, and cotton candy. 

Cuddling! You are the littlest spoon. Jack loves having you curled up into his chest with his long limbs wrapped snugly around you.  

[mankisser3036]

JACK LEAVING DAKR LIOSTICK STAINS ON ME YEESSSYSODBOSNEOSNEOEN

[thesunniestlittlesnail]

Sweet HC’s about; Laughing Jack

Super sweet HC’s about; Laughing Jack

Eats your nightmares. Like, he can literally just eat them. One of his favorite things about you is your horrendous, bone-chilling, gut-wrenching nightmares that he can use as inspiration! You haven’t woken up in a cold sweat since you’ve started dating. 

Follows you everywhere. There is not a place in this universe his gumdrop can hide from him, which makes hide and seek very unfair. 

Leaves you lots of candy, trinkets, and very dark lipstick stains everywhere. Pray for your white materials, because that shit is naught coming off.

Has a human ‘disguise’, and it’s in heavy finger quotations. You ever stare into a mirror for too long or look off into a foggy morning and imagine grotesque creatures crawling out of it? That’s what looking at Jack in human form is like. His teeth and lips are pitch black. He’s way too tall, gangly, and eerily pale. But Jack only uses it when he’s out in public with you. He may be a maniacal, murderous gothic clown—full stop—but that won’t stop him from taking you to amusement parks, carnivals, renaissance fairs, and festivals. 

Master of carnival games btw. You will leave with your arms full of huge stuffed animals, balloons, and cotton candy. 

Cuddling! You are the littlest spoon. Jack loves having you curled up into his chest with his long limbs wrapped snugly around you.  

[firstchristmas]

Which of the pastas would you think would be into degrading? Who do you think will be more into praising, and who's a little bit of both? 👀

which creeps would be into degrading or praising? or both? — headcanons

cw — smut and stuff obviously..

the three creeps i believe who would be heavily into degrading would be jeff, habit, and brian. jeff due to the fact i mostly write him to be cold and rude towards the reader despite holding much affection for them. he’s into knifeplay and making you frightened, his words are meant to hurt you. habit cuz he’s habit.. he wants to see you whine and cry when he calls you a dumb bunny slut. habit literally relishes your cries and screams when he’s being rough and mean. brian is very stoic, but he will put you into degrading positions and scenarios like stuffing your panties into your mouth as he aims a gun to your forehead. he’ll also make comments on how you still love him despite knowing what he is. these three are the biggest bullies of the bunch.

the creeps who would be in between of the two would probably be.. ben, laughing jack, and tim. ben is a freak so he’s into anything.. praise or degrading? he doesn’t care. hell, he lets you degrade him. he’s into it all! he’s the biggest perv of the bunch so he isn’t picky. he’s more leaning to degrading, though. LJ is on the fence with degrading and praising.. he can be a bully during intimacy and likes seeing you cry. but he does reward you if you’ve been good for him. it’s like a game, you never know which one you’ll get. tim doesn’t really mind and is okay with whatever you feel like that day. he can be really sweet and loving if you want it.. but then he can make you cry while he calls you a slut. he’s into whatever you want.

the creeps who would be heavily into praising is toby, eyeless jack, and slenderman. toby has a literal mindset of being mean to you = bad. he struggles with degrading a lot, even if you asked him to.. none of his insults sound genuine. he loves praising and worshipping you, babbling about how pretty you are and how you’re his angel. so yeah, don’t expect much mean shit from toby. jack views you as a blessing from the gods above, he couldn’t even be mean if he wanted.. due to being mute. jack struggles with being mean physically.. he’s frightened of harming your delicate skin with his claws and teeth. however! during rut he can be mean. but that’s still due to instincts, he loves praising you with licks and purrs. slenderman enjoys praising because it sets him on a higher scale than you. like you need to deserve his kind words while he’s making you squirm and cry on his tentacles. he feels superior that way. he believes insults make him sound weak and childish. the only times he feels the need to degrade is when the reader is a brat. he lets you get away with things, but that wouldn’t last long. still, he’s such a praise freak.

[ivydarkrose]

How tall is Candy? Yk I don't rlly believe google-

Creepypasta Height: 7'1 in his jesterform- 9'6 in demon aka Night Terrors presenting.

Umbra Heights: Candy Pop form(7'8), Night Terrors form (15ft/Can grow slightly bigger at will), Cluster form/Final Form (600 ft+)

Before Pop was Fused with NT: 6'11 ft (Note: He was also very young too so was still growing when he fused with Nights)

[itz-revina]

In my artstyle~^~

I also posted this on insta tho

[koshido]

More photobashing practice but Clockwork finally makes her appearance !

[mankisser3036]

I have an old hc that Jane's trinidadian should I draw her

[websskull]

more kate the chaser fanart

i keep seeing my art on kate edits and i think its lovely, thank u to the editor 💗

pls ignore the awful anatomy i really couldn't be bothered

[skisoprenyak]

heyhey creepypasta girls in my new style

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎 - 𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫 ㅤ⋆˙⟡

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: lıllılı.ıllı.ılı Habit/Evan x GN! Reader ıılıı.lllııılı.

"She’s My Collar - Gorillaz ft. Kali Uchis ⋅" ★

𝟶𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ━━━━━━●─── 𝟶𝟹:𝟶𝟹 ⇆ ◁ ❚❚ ▷ ↻

W/C: 4.2k // Summary: How Habit would romance you !! Both SFW & NSFW HC’s included !!

Tags: Marking, biting, canon level violence, pet play, slight dub-con, he’s manipulating you but lovingly (kind of), and Habit’s very questionable code of ethic’s

A/N: HE WONT LEAVE MY BRAIN. It’s so bad, but anyway !! ENJOYYY !! ^3^

𝐃𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐮𝐨 ➽──────────────❥

Why Do You & Him Work? ✰ .ᐟ

Habit’s view of you is… interesting, to say the least. He is sadistic and full of malice to his very core, and there is nothing on earth that could change that fact. Not even you.

However, the way he goes about it is different when it comes to you. For whatever reason, you fascinate him, enthral him in a weird, kind of useless way. And because of that, everything he does to you is increased tenfold on his behalf.

In his head, tugging your hair and hearing you yelp is equivalent to gutting someone and hearing them scream. Both acts give him the same amount of pleasure, and if they were put on a physical scale, they would be even.

Habit is basically micro-dosing on your suffering. If he wanted to chain you up somewhere, torture you with different knives, and break your spirit after months of psychological warfare- he would. It wouldn’t even make him blink, and he’d do it in a heartbeat if he had an itch that day.

The thing is, he just doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t need to. Doesn’t have to go to extremes to get that rush. He can get the same feeling that comes with stripping the humanity away from some poor civilian- from simply knocking a drink out of your hand.

Tripping you just enough to make you stumble forward, or giving you a forehead flick hard enough for you to scowl. Push his hand away with an irritated whine, and he’ll laugh. Not because this is a cute couple moment, but because you’re mad at him. You, in that moment, were irritated.

He can see it on your face, the way your expression contorts in annoyance and disdain. That is what gives him his rush.

In any other situation, you would’ve been long dead. It’s something not even he understands, whether by coincidence or sheer luck- he doesn’t get the urge to maim and slaughter when he looks at you.

And he found out with time that he couldn’t keep you constantly unhappy either.

After a period of persistently doing things that he knew you’d hate, he found himself strangely bored. Yet, he still didn’t want to kill you, even the idea of it seemed bland to him.

Therefore, hatched Habit’s Plan of trial and error.

He’d tried being consistently an asshole, so what if he was consistently decent? Well, by his standards, anyway. Weeks of him sparing you the tiniest speck of the bare minimum- and he was still bored.

He debated psychological torture, but eventually settled on trying the half-and-half method first. And that right there was his sweet spot.

He’d be good to you one day, then shove you around the next. It was a guessing game, and that’s what made it fun for him. Never going too far, because once again, he didn’t need to. It’d be pointless.

A waste of time to push you past your breaking point, and then your dynamic with him would change. Which meant your reactions would change, and he couldn’t have that, now could he?

ᯓ★

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 ➽────────❥

How Do You Fit Into His World? ✰ .ᐟ

Meeting you on a whim, he had just decided he liked you. Maybe it was your tone, or your nervous fidgets, but none of that mattered. His sights were set on you; that had to mean something. A once-in-a-millennium chance, you were his since you’d gained a heartbeat.

Habit, in no way, shape, or form, believes you are his equal. That being said, what he feels for you is as close to “fondness” as he could ever possibly get.

He doesn’t experience emotion the way humans do. Habit physically does not possess the capability to care about anything or anyone more than he cares for you. It’s simply that his “love” will always be different from what you are used to.

If everyone on earth were a bug, or critter to crush and pick apart- you would be his pet rabbit.

An animal, sure, but one that was taken care of. Chosen, in a sense. He thinks -knows- you’re not the same as him. On the same level as him, but he sort of likes that about you. It’s not your fault you were born with a stupid human brain, with your weak body and fragile mind.

The way people look at dogs. They could mourn their dogs, grieve and love their dogs- but at the end of the day. To most, they are still dogs.

You don’t really ask your puppy if he wants a blue collar; you give it to him and expect him to like it. Because he doesn’t know better, because he is an animal. And you are the one holding the leash.

Still, despite knowing he is technically useless, you keep him anyway. Throw things like cheese slices at his face, and find joy in his distress. In the grand scheme of things, it’s harmless.

He’s only panicked because he doesn’t understand. He is only a puppy, after all. It’s endearing when he does dumb things, so naive to everything, it’s as charming as it is pitiful.

That is exactly how Habit sees you, how he digests your ‘relationship.’

You’re free to call him your boyfriend- he doesn’t care. It’s a word; it means nothing to him. It just appears to please you, and he needs balance for when he inevitably pisses you off again, so have at it.

He doesn’t think about the romance aspects of it; he just does things because you’ve talked about them. And it’s not like he minds seeing you enjoy yourself; you are still his pet bunny. And that means he has to pamper you at least a little.

Just like with animals, you can’t always neglect and shun them away with cruelty. Or else they’ll turn aggressive or mute.

The choices were: withering away from mental strain far too heavy for their minds to handle, or start biting the hand that feeds.

Either way, it was incredibly stale. Repetitive and bleak, the only reason it’s fun to mess with animals is because of the change. Your empty-headed pet wobbles adorably like a newborn deer, all because you’d sprayed water on the floor. You’ll scoop the thing up and console it softly. Even though you’re the one at fault.

Habit does the same with you, and it works without fail every time. He’ll yank on your hair, pinch your ass as you walk past, or randomly insult you vaguely. Then, when you turn around to yell at him or cry- he’ll kiss you.

The rare display of initiated affection stuns you, and you get that stupid little expression on your face. Lips parted, with your pupils dilated. Hands pawing at his chest with your dumb doe eyes. He has so much power over your subconscious, it’s comical. He finds it almost… cute. Almost.

ᯓ★

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ➽────────────❥

Love Languages & What They Mean To Him ✰ .ᐟ

Technically, he doesn’t have one. He more so just adapts to be whatever to appease you. But if we get down to the nitty-gritty, it’s acts of service and physical touch.

Habit would never vocalize what he wanted from you in your non-typical relationship; he simply takes things and expects you to memorize why.

Acts of service for him work slightly differently. Usually, people do these meaningful services for their partners without them having to ask, but with Habit’s “lifestyle.” That has often proven itself to be quite difficult; on top of that, he’d rather tell you what to do straight up.

If you want to be a good little bunny, you’ll wait for him to give you a direct order. It’s easier that way, then you can do your stupid couple shit, and he gets what he wants.

In return, you get affection.

He’s not cuddly, but head pats are decently frequent. They’re fast and require little to no effort, and they also seem to boost your mood quite quickly. So, win-win.

If you’re too down in the dumps for his liking- bad day and you are not giving him the right reactions, he knows he has to replenish your brain before doing what he wants to do. Pets are so fickle.

You’re sleepy, and sad, and not looking at him because you’re too busy being boring. He’ll slide up next to you on the couch, tutting under his breath, annoyed. Why aren’t you being all weird and touchy like usual?

Then it hits him- rabbits are fucking stupid. And can never solve their own problems. Which means he has to use his secret weapon, his never-failing, mighty trump card.

Bringing up a hand, he’ll start by brushing back the strays covering your face. Running his fingers through the strands before settling a large palm on your head. Ruffle your hair, and like the simple-minded thing you are, you’ll giggle. Does it with a straight face, too. He already knows it’ll work.

As expected, you throw yourself at him with a whine of his name. Start clinging to him as you usually do, and he’ll groan like you’ve burdened him. That’s a part of the act, though. All to see how your face twists up this time.

Habit doesn’t initiate domestic affection unless it’s strategic. However, he won’t stop you if you do.

If he’s not busy, you’re free to hold his hand, hang off of his arm, or hug him from behind. He isn’t excited, exactly, but he knows you need it.

That your little bunny brain will get sulky if he doesn’t let you cling to him, so he’ll roll his eyes and keep you close. For the sake of balance, your low can’t really be a low unless you’ve soared, right?

He doesn’t need rest the way you do. Your problem? You loved to nap and sleep.

Curl up in a sunspot under the windowsill, snoring the day away. That made it easy to keep you satisfied, though. So really, he couldn't complain.

Habit also has a habit of pinching your cheeks. A drive-by face squish, and he’ll walk off like he was never there to begin with. It worsens when you’re sappy or you’ve dressed up for him. Rambling about some cheesy date you planned.

It makes his hands twitch. Initially, he thought you’d invoked wrath in him the way everyone else did- but picturing it didn’t feel as good as he’d thought. He grabbed your head like a basketball. Shaking you a little seemed to do the trick.

That feeling is recurrent, though, much to his chagrin. When your eyes get big, and you stare at him like he’s hung the stars in your name. How foolish of you to believe he could ever love at all.

You’ll cuddle up to him, kiss his jaw, and laugh. He doesn’t know why you get away with doing these things; to this day, he still hasn’t figured it out.

But he’ll let you anyway, and he’ll keep letting you until you leave this earth once and for all.

Just because.

ᯓ★

𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐦 ➽──────────────❥

The Down & Dirty ✰ .ᐟ

Kinks on kinks, you think he has a problem. When you had told him you were ready for sex- his entire face lit up like a child on Christmas day. Running his tongue along his teeth as he pinned you beneath him, chuckling at every sound you made.

“What? Somethin’ bothering you? Don’t tell me you’re brain dead already.”

Mocking, while he pounded roughly into you. Habit degrades like no one's business, calling you a dumb whore for letting him have you like this. His hips are even meaner than he is, snapping against your ass, his hand pressing your back into a crystalline arch.

Spits on your tongue when you open your mouth to beg for mercy. A real nasty bastard too, thumb digging into the fat of your ass and fucking you from behind. He’ll spread you, roar with laughter when you whine about being embarrassed.

Tell him not to look, and he’ll make you take it over the mirror. Thrives off your humiliation, when you’re so far gone you can’t even speak. Leaving welts on your thighs, bruises in the shape of his hands- he loves it all. Branding you to the point it’s undeniable.

“Keep it in your mouth or I’ll break you, understand?”

Control, control, control. Habit gets off on authority, being able to see step by step how you submit is one of his favourite parts. That being said, he’ll make you do nearly gross and impossible tasks, and half the time, he knows you’ll lose.

Uses your throat and orders you not to swallow, and he’ll edge you for hours. Expects you to keep your mouth shut, hold his cum on your tongue while he plays with you to his heart's content. He’ll flip you suddenly, press your ankles by your ears, and fuck his whole weight into you.

Habit will shove his fingers under your tongue, mixing the saliva and seed together with a smile on his face. Prodding around your mouth, toying with you just so you gag- it feels borderline violating.

If you succeed, he’ll throw your legs over his shoulders, fill you to the brim as you claw at the sheets. Going until you pass out, round after round, you barely remember your own name by the end. The pleasure is ruthless and never-ending, you cum so hard it hurts, and he’s still not done.

If you fail, well. Better pray you don’t, because the sadistic side he hides (well enough) from you finally has the chance to shine. He’ll force you to ride him, refusing to lift a finger while you do the work. Pinching you hard enough to bruise, and he’s very cruel about it.

Buys you plugs to tug on, accessories, and collars for you to crawl around in.

“Move your hips, cotton tail- you wanna’ see what happens if I have to tell you again?”

Watches you bounce, desperately chasing your release. Salt streaming down your cheeks as you hiccup, you’ll claw at his bare chest, pleading for anything. It’s been over four hours, and he hasn’t let you cum once.

Making you rock your hips on shaky legs, and he’s lying comfortably below you. Arms over his head and tucked under the pillow.

Then he’ll abruptly plant his feet firm and slam you down. The pace he sets whites out your vision entirely, you’re drooling so much it dribbles onto his skin. You can’t talk, can’t think, letting out nothing but breathy little “Ah-ah-ah-”s. Your limbs go limp, and you collapse; it makes him snort.

Body jolting with each thrust, all you can do is lie there and take it. Being stretched open on his cock over and over again. It’s not his fault, you just look best when you’re crying, pretty with fat tears collecting at your lashes.

Ripe enough to eat.

ᯓ★

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 ➽──────────────❥

The Aftercare ✰ .ᐟ

Surprising everyone, Habit does not just throw a rag at you and call it a day. He’s not the most tender lover, but he is aware enough to understand the toll that it would take on your psyche. After he nearly kills you with his dick, he’ll groom you the way kittens do.

That’s how he justifies the care in his head. He is being a good owner and fulfilling his role well. If he doesn’t, he’ll have broken you beyond repair, and that would make him irresponsible.

The mortal mind is pathetically weak; if he doesn’t offer you at least something to hold onto, you’ll freeze up.

Retreat into your thoughts and dissociate more and more with time. Then he’d lose you, no more reactions, no more fun. You’d be a walking corpse with no purpose. Useless to him, and he was very doubtful that he’d find another “You.”

Wiping down your legs half-heartedly, just enough that your skin is less sticky. And he almost one-hundred-percent made you cry, making the chemicals in your brain swan dive when he got off of you.

This is when you’re the most fragile. The most moldable, which means he has to be careful. Skin on skin is an easy option, in his opinion; he doesn’t need to do much except lie you down on his chest. It also works the fastest when he pushes you slightly too far.

Your full body trembles, not fading completely when he finishes cleaning you- and he knows he’s overwhelmed you. That he’s been too mean.

Still hiccuping quietly, he’ll gather you up in his arms, holding you flush. Have you listen to his heartbeat till your breathing evens out.

Habit isn’t the greatest at comfort; the best you’ll get is a mumbled “Stop crying, you’re acting like I fucking hate you or something.” Or “I’m here, you’re fine.” As he trails his touch over the purple that blooms across your flesh.

It’s the softest he’ll ever get. The most genuine he’ll ever be.

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

Now Playing: Friday, March 28th. Approximately 12:48 AM. ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

On his third victim of the night, with dark red splattered up his forearms, when you knock on the basement door. It was almost one in the morning, so why the fuck were you awake?

Straightening up, he wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. Sighing, “Sorry, I gotta’ get that- would you mind holding on?” And he’s sure the guy would respond if he could.

Tied to a chair, with a hunting knife, struck right through his left thigh. His mouth duct-taped as he sobbed, pathetic. Not your kind of pathetic, yours was easy on the eyes- and this fucker was one unfortunate-looking son of a bitch.

Made him miss you just a little.

Snickering, he raises his leg, bringing it down with a hard stomp on the handle of the blade. The metal pierces bone with a grotesque crunch, and the guy wails. Choking on his own tears and vomit. Ah, like music to his ears, can life really get better than this?

Upstairs, on the other side of the door, you shifted weight from foot to foot, the cold of the hardwood seeping through your fuzzy socks. A soft pout on your lips when you hear the latch click. Glancing up, you met eyes.

Habit slouched against the frame, his black tee slightly damp from exertion. With his cap still on, and scarlet flicked across his face, you’ve never wanted to cuddle more.

He always looked so silly after his weird Halloween stunts that were never on Halloween.

Your boyfriend was a weird guy. He had the strangest hobbies, with a taste for fake blood and getting on your nerves. But you still loved him; his gnarled appearance had grown on you over time.

Mysterious as ever, he cocked his head to the side with a grin. Canines gleaming in the low light of the hall, he reminded you of a wolf. “Hey, cotton tail, whatcha’ doin’ out of bed?” And his nicknames were pretty funny too, always a different variety of the bunny category when he addressed you.

Rubbing your eye, you yawned. “I got cold, and I missed you. Are you almost done with your project? I wanna cuddle tonight.”

So naive, idiotic even. He liked to test you, walk the line of your trust. See how far he could go with this “eccentric hobbiest” act.

Humming, he tapped his chin in thought, “Oh, I don’t know... Mm, give me five minutes, and I’ll show you something really fun, how’s that?” Cheerful, and you nodded, a gentle smile on your lips. God, he could squeeze you to death.

Closing the cellar door, he descended the steps, whistling. The other man seemed somehow even more distraught. Apparently, knowing “help” was just out of reach could really sadden a guy, you know?

Crouching down in front of the chair, he yanked out the serrated knife in one move. His victim flailed in agony, and he laughed. “My baby loves props, so I gotta’ bring out the good stuff- you get it.” Shrugging, he rose, gripping the man's jaw firmly.

Blade in the other hand, Habit aimed the pointed edge right under his brow. Sinking the metal in, the flesh pierced with a pop. Muscles and veins snapping as he carved around the socket, finally letting the knife clatter to the ground when the organ had sufficiently loosened.

He pushes his thumb into the weeping cavern and hooks it beneath the optic nerve. Pulling the eyeball out with a swift tug. The tendons ripped easily, and he’d successfully removed the damn thing.

“Would you look at that, clean cut and everything. You’re lucky I’m fucking good at this.” Waving the gory sphere in front of the man's face, Habit reclined to admire his handy work.

Tossing it in the air, he spun on his heel, hopping back up the steps two at a time. And when he opened the door, you were still there. Now, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor, blanket tossed over your shoulders.

You were such a fascinating pet, he technically didn’t ask you to stay- yet you did. You always did make it easier for him; maybe he should reward you tonight. Kneeling before you, Habit held his hands behind his back. “You ready, bonbon?” Excitement oozed off of him, antsy to see if you’d splinter.

“Mhm.” With that, he whips a hand out, holding it up to you.

An insanely detailed and realistic eyeball was not what you were expecting.

Grimacing, you whined, pushing his arm away. “Habit- I know you think it’s super cool, and I think you’re really talented. But it’s so real looking, and it’s creeping me out.” You wrapped the fluffy duvet tighter around you.

Sometimes, you felt mean about not being that into it- it’s just that gore made your stomach queasy.

You were endlessly entertaining, he thinks. Continuing to shove it near you until you squeaked, cringing and swatting at his hand. Only letting up when you pouted, dropping your fists to your sides.

His face lit up with glee, and he snickered. “Such a baby, fine.” Rolling his eyes playfully, he stood. You really did trust him, huh?

Your mental so delicate, the idea of violence had your gut churning. He’s doing you a favour by sticking around; you literally wouldn’t last a second out there.

He finishes up quickly, dumping the carcass into a large freezer to deal with another day. And when he finally reached his bedroom, you were already snug as a bug. Blinking at him innocently from above the covers.

Such a stupid rabbit, yet his all the same.

Throwing on a fresh t-shirt, he crawled on top of you. The sheets pushed down along the way, so you could “Feel him.” You’d complained about it prior, and you had been good today. Habit was feeling generous.

Shifting, he slipped his arms under you, lying on you, and enveloping your entire frame. He felt like a weight blanket. You exhaled, content and warm. While you slept in his bed often, he was usually up and about. Tinkering with his assortment of weapons he’d collected, or spending his night in the basement.

You’ve never been down there; apparently, it was way too dangerous. Sharp objects and gadgets astray, it was simply too risky, he’d told you. He may have been different than the average lover, but he took care of you, and that was enough. Paid attention to little details, doing things without ever bringing them up.

Breathing in deeply, he nosed at your throat. The sensation had you huffing out a quiet laugh- the soft moment ruined when he bit down. Hard.

You yelped, jolting from the sharp pain. “Habit!” And he kisses the spot to soothe you.

Sniggering, “What? You gonna’ cry?” Sometimes, -and you don’t know how- you forget how much of an asshole he is. “You’re so mean to me.”

That had him pulling back, his arms caging your head. “Nah, I’m not. Trust me, because if I were-” dipping lower, he rested his forehead on yours.

“You wouldn’t be here, bonbon.”

Grin just a tad too sharp, he stared at you. Whatever that means. Raising a brow at him, you smacked your lips together. “Right?” He doesn’t know how you do it, so mundane, yet he can’t get enough. Perhaps it’s because he knows that you’re unaware, or that you’re moronic enough to brush off his threats. Either way, how fun.

He snorts, burying his face back into your neck. You’ve entertained him plenty, so he’ll let you rest, gifting you his intimacy. As close as he could get to it, anyway. This wasn’t awful; you were soft, weak. Comfortable to lie on, and completely vulnerable in this state. Unguarded, and leaving him to protect you.

Like a plush bear with feelings, how quaint. Far too giving, far too gentle, and faithful to the very end.

Yes, what a perfect rabbit to keep.

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

➽──────────────❥

A/N: OMFG all I do is think about him it’s so TERRIBLE T3T but babygirl Habit #canon :ppp

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

I’m still so proud of the theming for this Drabble

Stove was on fr.

[lilahs-red-thoughts]

"Oh honey/ baby/ sweetheart."

In a little condescending or mock sympathetic way.

Something about it scratches the good part of my brain ☆

[habitslittlerabbit]

Happy Weight [Brian Ver.]

────୨ৎ────

𐙚 | evan’s version —> ୨ৎ

| toby’s version -> ୨ৎ

| i need to be a stereotypical housewife

| just for him..

| i’m so hungry for dihh

| i luv me a muscular man w a tummy

Brian was never the kind of guy to meal prep. With his demanding missions keeping him away for days at a time, the most culinary effort he ever mustered was grabbing a stale, microwavable burrito from a roadside gas station. After a grueling operation, his routine was always the same: a scalding hot shower to wash off the grime, and straight to bed.

But that all changed the moment he met you.

You had an passion for the kitchen—baking, experimenting with new spices, and turning simple grocery runs into gourmet feasts. So, you can only imagine his absolute shock when he started coming home from grueling multi-day assignments to the rich, warm aromas of freshly cooked meals. We aren't talking about basic frozen dinners, either. You spoiled him rotten with homemade pasta tossed in slow-simmered sauces, savory meatloaf, tender pot roasts that melted on the tongue, and even the occasional perfectly seared ribeye.

And then, of course, there were the desserts. Fudgy brownies, batches of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies, and even a freshly baked loaf of banana bread sitting on the counter, waiting exclusively for him. It was the kind of domestic bliss men only ever dreamed about.

Unfortunately, all of those sweet treats and hearty, soul-warming dinners came with a cost.

One quiet morning, Brian was getting ready for the day, pulling on a simple pair of well-worn jeans and a faded cotton t-shirt. Except, the moment he slipped the shirt over his head, he noticed a significant, undeniable difference. The fabric pulled tight across his chest and strained against his broad shoulders, clinging a bit too closely to a waistline that hadn't felt this soft in years.

He shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the hem with a frown before calling out down the hall, “Hey, babe? I think you might have accidentally shrunk my clothes in the dryer.” He let out a low grunt as he tried to stretch the stubborn fabric away from his torso.

You peeked your head out of the bathroom doorway, a towel wrapped around your hair and a sassy retort already on the tip of your tongue—until your gaze landed squarely on the hilariously snug shirt, and the mystery of his "shrunken" wardrobe suddenly became very, very clear. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the delicious sight before you. Both biceps and the perfect firm but dad bod-like tummy snug in his shirt.

“Hmm.. I dunno what you’re talkin’ about, Bri.” You responded with a cheeky grin, only earning you an unimpressed look. “I’m serious!” You snickered as you approached, slithering your arms around his midriff from behind to squeeze the tummy he’d developed lately. “You look so sexy..”

Brian let out a low, rumbling groan, though the stern, unimpressed look on his face completely crumbled the second your hands made contact with his waist. “You’re enjoying this way too much, you know that?” he muttered.

“Maybe,” you murmured innocently against his back, sliding your palms upward to trace the tight, straining cotton stretched over his broad chest and giving a little squeeze. “I’m just appreciating the hard work I put into those pot roasts. Quality ingredients yield quality results.”

Brian caught your wrists before your hands could wander any higher, though he didn't actually pull them away from his chest. Instead, he just held them in place, trapping your palms flat against the heat of his torso. “Mm. Quality ingredients,” he repeated, his voice dropping an octave into that low, gravelly register that always made your stomach do a little flip. He turned to face you, immediately tucking his head just enough to press a warm, lingering kiss against the crook of your neck, right beneath your jaw. “Is that what you call stuffing me full of carbs and sugar every single night? Torture. That’s what this is.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed softly, leaning into the contact while your fingers slid their way up his shirt to get a good feel of his warm skin. “You didn't complain once while you were devouring that lemon meringue pie last night.. In fact, if I recall correctly, you ate three slices and looked at me like you wanted to bend me over the table.”

Brian let out a low chuckle that rumbled right against your chest, hooking his hand behind your knees and scooping you up to toss you back on your shared bed. “I was sleep-deprived and vulnerable. You used my exhausted state against me.”

“I gave you sugar, Bri. I’m practically a saint.”

“A menace,” he corrected affectionately.

The snug fit of the t-shirt was suddenly working entirely in your favor. With him looming over you, the cotton pulled even tighter across his chest, outlining every hard line of muscle beneath the subtle, softer layer you had so lovingly put there over the last few months. He hovered over you, his hands sliding down to rest heavily on your hips, his thumbs lazily tracing the edge of the waistband of your shorts.

“You know,” Brian murmured, his thumbs hooking onto your waistband and sliding them down before tossing them somewhere on the ground, “if Im gonna be eating you’re amazing cooking, I should start keeping up with my cardio..” He purred as he carefully adjusted your legs over his shoulders. The new position gave him the perfect angle to press his already half hard bulge against the soft cotton of your panties.

You let out a sharp gasp, your cheeks instantly warming as you grabbed onto his biceps as if to brace yourself. “Bri.. I should really get started on breakfast.” You whimpered as he rolled his hips against you again.

“Why bother?” he teased, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he reached down to push your panties aside. “I’ve got my breakfast laid out nice and pretty right in front of me already..”

[creek-ink]

TOBY AND NINA IN THE CLURBBB!!

(don't look at Toby for too long bro is goofy lookin and I can't be bothered to fix it)

ANYWAYS!! ref below cut

[seireitonin]

THE OG TICCININA ARTIST!!!

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Laughing Jack has made a best friend.

He changes form to look more “human” but he’s still too long. Too tall and too angled, there’s just something so off about the way he moves.

You bring him around on hang outs and everyone he talks to is immediately on edge. They can’t tell what about him is wrong, but every time he interacts with them it feels like they’re in danger. Your super close friends don’t mind him too much, and he respects them back- but anyone he deems “interested” in you is instantly distanced.

Jack stands behind you like a guard dog, face blank as he stares unblinking. He looks a hairs width away from lunging at them, and he slowly morphs his features little by little.

The sharp teeth peek through, his eyes grow darker and darker, his pupil spilling like ink into the whites until the shade mixes entirely.

The person you’re talking to keeps glancing over your shoulder. Sweat beginning to line their back because Jack’s malice is becoming physical.

However, the second you turn around- it’s like he reboots. His whole face switches back in less than a second, and it’s disorienting to see. One second, he’s barely recognizable, the next, his features soften and he’s grinning warmly.

Whoever’s trying to pursue you stops from that alone, and if they don’t, they just seem to vanish overnight. You think it’s a problem with the dating pool, Jack likes to keep it that way.

He always shrugs it off when you ask, so you don’t think much of it. Simply returning to your bestie dates and cuddling with him when you get home.

He’d never pressure you, but god if he hasn’t wondered what it’s like to be over you. To have you completely, to witness the way you fall apart under his touch.

Just the thought of anyone else seeing that part of you has him irate, and he can’t risk another stealing away his time with you. He loves you too much for that.

LJ’s playful to you. He nips at your cheek, holds your hand when you’re scared and wipes your tears when no one else will. You’re his special little human, and he’s doing whatever he can to keep you happy, no matter the cost. Even if his heart shatters into nothing when you come home with eyes brighter than the sun—

“I think I have a crush on someone.”

It’s fine. He won’t ruin your life because he’s jealous. It’s not fair to you. You’re the only person on earth that he thinks deserves a good future. A stable one, where you can thrive and settle down with somebody who’s treats you well. Somebody normal.

He’ll buckle up and deal with it because the guy makes you feel whole. And it’s not like you cast him aside, you’re too sweet to ever wrong him.

You even gift him a phone on his birthday. It’s not really his birthday, he doesn’t have one, but he made up a date to celebrate with you anyway. The cake and candles, your excitement in seeing him blow out the flames. He keeps the memories locked in box, revisiting them when he misses you and he’s lonely.

You text him silly updates, pictures and voice clips about your day. It’s nice. He’s happy. He sees you less, but it’s okay. He misses you more, but it’s fine. You still love him, and that’s all that counts. You are content with your lover, and he is still your best friend. So it’s fine. Everything is fine.

Until you start arguing with your boyfriend.

It starts small. Little things here and there. He doesn’t pick up after himself. He doesn’t listen when you speak. He forgets dates that Jack knows by heart. He calls you cruel things during spats that Jack would never open his mouth to say. But it’s fine. You tell him that your lover is working on it.

You tell him that your lover means well. You tell him that the man who makes you cry is still your one and only. So it’s fine.

And then, it isn’t.

Because after awhile, it’s not little things anymore. He refuses to pick up after himself. He won’t listen when you speak. He keeps forgetting the fucking dates and doesn’t apologize because he’s tired.

He begins coming home smelling like a perfume you don’t own. He rushes out the door when you need him by your side. He raises his voice and spits in your face when you ask him where he’s been.

You run to Jack every time. Hiccuping in his arms so hard you shake.

Asking him if there’s something wrong with you, if there is something unfixable about you. Why the one who holds all your focus is drifting.

He comforts you, he hushes you gently and promises that you’re wrong. He wipes away your tears because the man who is supposed to won’t. And it’s fine. He understands why you cling, knows why you want it to work so terribly. Yet, when you return to him the week after, your confession is different.

You tell him you think your lover has done something awful. You tell him you think you’re in over your head. You tell him you argued with your lover last night. You tell him that the man grabbed you hard enough to bruise. He sees the mark on your wrist, and swears you’ll be alright.

He cradles your cheeks and soothes you with all the endearment you’d taught him to nurture. He kisses your forehead and holds you with all the fondness you’d seeped into his heart. That day, he tells you he’ll take care of you, keeping your mind occupied with jokes and treats. It’ll be fine.

Because Jack has snapped, and he’s going to skin the one you hold closest to the bone.