limbo

18 asks are open :P (pls talk to me :()

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

I see the creeps reader(especially the proxies) bidding the shit out of them in their body.

Huh? What's that baby girl? Kitten wants to me to come downstairs? Daddies coming

#alphamale #alphamaleforlife #bigdickenergy

Reader in Tim’s body is genuinely wreaking havoc on society.

He steps foot in the door and you’re air thrusting. You’re saying things he can barely comprehend in his voice. You’re flexing his own biceps in his face and telling him to feel it. Readers leaning against the window and brooding for the fuck of it.

I like to think that all this is happening at the same time from the same event.

Tim’s reader is meeting up with Brian’s reader in their bodies. They’re giggling while looking like scary grown ass men. It’s so jarring and Tim and Brian are trying their best to be normal, but they’re literally watching themselves prance around the yard.

Like your mannerisms look so weird coming from him. He doesn’t know how to feel.

At one point, you pout when talking to him and he actually has to take a lap. He loves your pout- just not when it’s on his face.

Tim ^

[littlemissrabbitt]

Why aren’t you holding my hand?

────୨ৎ────

𐙚 | toby, brian, tim ver.

| evan & habit ver. -> ୨ৎ

| lmk other creeps you’d like me to add!

Toby usually tries his absolute best to keep you as far away from "work" as possible. But since he was already heading that route, he may as well stop by to drop off a body for Jack— He figured he’d multitask. So there he was, standing right in front of you during a quick stop, casually hauling a body bag in his arms. Out of nowhere, you blurted out, "Why aren't you holding my hand?" He stopped. Staring at you, he blinked once, twice, utterly bewildered. I mean, for Christ’s sake, he was holding a corpse. Still, seeing the deadpan seriousness on your face, he let out a soft, defeated sigh. Shifting the heavy body bag awkwardly up and over his shoulder with a thud before he held out his remaining free hand for you to take.

Of course, dragging Brian along on your thrift shopping sprees was a must. You had an absolute weakness for the vintage furniture crammed into those dusty aisles, and you almost never left empty-handed. As usual, you’d just locked eyes with a gorgeous, heavy-framed full-length mirror that you swore would look perfect in the cabin. So there went Brian, meticulously balancing the massive glass pane out the shop doors, his knuckles white with the sheer concentration of not letting it slip and possibly dropping it. Just as you stepped out into the parking lot together, you looked over at him and casually muttered, "Hold my hand?" There was no pause. No witty comeback, not even a glance back to check if you were serious. Without missing a beat, he simply extended a single, stiff pinky finger out from the edge of the frame for you to grab.

Tim has always been the kind of man who insists on taking care of you, making damn sure you never have to lift a finger. Even if it’s just hauling your ridiculous amount of luggage from the car to the hotel room—bags you definitely did not need, but packed anyway—he refuses to let you touch a single strap. So there he was, trudging up the concrete motel stairs, both hands full of at least four overstuffed bags. You cleared your throat, stopping dead in your tracks, and held your hand right out. "Hello? Why aren't you holding my hand?" He stopped, just staring back at you. Surely you had to be joking. But when he saw the completely serious, expectant look on your face, a heavy sigh huffed in his chest as he awkwardly shimmied and hitched the pile of luggage onto one strained shoulder, freeing up his other hand just enough to gently—and begrudgingly—take yours.

[pr3yinst1ncts]

I’ve been hacking up mucus all day so naturally I am now projecting my suffering onto Tim-coughs-a-lot Wright. Brian having to forced his friend into a blanket burrito so the stubborn man would stop trying to leave bed with a temp of 105. It probably doesn’t help the fact that Tim is a naturally warm person, so whenever he manages to untangle himself out of the pile of pillows and quilts Brian buried him under, there’s just a SEA of sweat that leaves a big ass wet patch on the back of his pajamas and the sheets. Brian always has to help him change clothes every few hours because of it.

Brian seems like the type who keeps a variety of medicine flavors in his cabinet imo. Shit like grape and strawberry-banana and bubblegum. Also the type to carry around like five different types of cough drops in his pocket, mostly for Tim. He probably changes out the flavor options every week and then keeps the ones Tim seems to lean towards the most on hand. It’d probably be some dumb flavor like apple pie.

Tim’s biggest grievance would be the fact that since Brian doesn't wanna risk getting sick alongside him, since at least ONE of them gotta be healthy enough to look out for the other, he gets no cuddles or kisses. Not even a goodnight smooch on the forehead. Tim mourns over it like he was a soldier at war who was bleeding out in the middle of a foreign battlefield, yearning for his true love’s affection just one last time before his body cruelly gave out. Brian compromises by pulling up a chair and watching Modern Family with the laptop on Tim’s lap.

He proceeds to also gets sick a day or two later.

[pr3yinst1ncts]

Hiii!!! I love your art!!🖤🖤🖤 if you dont mind me asking a few things. One, how is your day going and how are you doing? Two, do you like creepypasta and marble hornets? Is so, which one do you like more? And three, who are your favorite and least favorite creepypasta and marble hornet characters? (Sorry if its alot) have a amazing day!🖤🖤🖤

HELLO!!! I don’t really know what you meant by art since I don’t draw or post anything of the sort, but thank you!! I’m doing great, just a little sick at the moment :/

I’d say I like both creepypasta and Marble Hornets equally, but personally I’m more fixated on the latter at the moment. Brian and Tim are my favorites if you couldn’t tell from the amount of drabbles I write about them, but if we’re talking the Slenderverse as a whole, I like Evan Myers a whole lot too! HABIT was also my favorite for a while, but he got demoted temporarily because of Masky. I originally started this blog because of HABIT actually, but, well, you guys can see we’re heading all over the place now :P I also love Jane the Killer and Nina the Killer a whole tons…might write for them soon…

As for my least favorite, Ben Drowned. Jeff the Killer, even. I’m just not into bums I’m afraid.

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Yin Yang & The In-Between !! .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐

➽──────────────❥

Your divine duties and the strays you found in an alleyway- where did it all go wrong, right?

AKA: Miscellaneous texts between you and your evil boyfriends ✮⋆˙

Ft. J. Woods & A Bad Habit !! ✶⋆.˚

➽──────────────❥

➽──────────────❥

Habit is fighting day and night against that leash FREE HIM

[pr3yinst1ncts]

I’m still not over cowboy Tim btw. him driving you in his slightly rusty but well-loved truck into town, indulging you in gas station snacks and glazed donuts from the local family business bakery. (off-topic but I think if you beg REALLY hard he might let you stack donuts on his dick. two maximum. but if we wanna go all the way I think he can fit like three. call that cock a jaw breaker the way I’m about to slobber at it)

Later on, when you guys are parked in the middle of some abandoned field, Tim chastised you for your shaky hands while his guided yours to his belt buckle, helping you undo the thing as he teased you for being needy :( you’re sitting between his legs, settled in the footwell while your mouth lapped at his cock. he’d be lazily thrusting up into your throat if some random officer didn’t pull up to the car for a check-up. ur damn lucky he got one of those stupid cars that are so high off the ground that you have to become a professional hiker to get in :/

[maggotmuncher0]

i bought a new lavender pencil (or "Bright Lilac" or whatever)

[outside-helps]

[mersei47]

Idk if u do request but I luvvvvv ur artstyle so if u don't mind can u draw brim I luv them so much !!!

yeah you guys can always send me requests actually and I will answer them when I have time! (or might not sorry in advance)

I want what they have

[mersei47]

I like drawing taylor's hair

[mersei47]

If you're still doing request, can we get some Brim pre-MH. Pretty please

cant think of angst rn but I draw a pile of brim here

[satinbabeeey]

Could we have a piece of B!Proxy Overriding/ignoring an order from Masky just like she did to Hoodie? Would my man be flabbergasted or furious?

Brat! Proxy’s Disobeying Masky

This fic contains: undertones of dom/sub dynamics (or full on, just to be sure), undertones of pet play

It doesn’t happen often, not with Masky. He has the sort of grip that stays constant. Your leash is always at a certain length, his control is always permanent.

He doesn’t hold onto your obedience loose like Hoodie, who’d lazily hold the end of your leash where the loop can go through his hands—good enough so when he really needs to, he can yank.

But he’s not like Toby, clawing right at your collar to try and get you to act the way he wants you to act, go the way you want him to go.

He’s got a good grip, a firm grip and he keeps it that way. But when your leash starts to slip, it’s your mistake not his.

You’d been ignoring him all mission. Whether it was intentional or not, Masky really didn’t care for the reason. You were acting out and could possibly jeopardize the mission. But you didn’t seem to care, did you?

“Brat, I told you to not run off,” He warns while taking longer strides to catch up with you. “If we all split, it’ll be harder to regroup where we’re at.” Hoodie is lingering behind, but Toby has long since darted off—the whole reason you thought it would be ok too. Clearly that wasn’t the case.

But you attempt to again. “But they got away,” You snap with urgency, feeling the adrenaline in your body coursing like it was blood itself. Pumping through your veins, you wanted to beat Toby to the target. “If we don’t get them now, then-“

But before you can bolt for what felt like the umpteenth time, Masky’s hand clamps down on the collar of your shirt and yanks you back.

You jolt, your body instinctively ready to pull and shake, but you slump then when he brings you to his side.

“I didn’t ask for your insight.” Masky interrupts, giving your collar a rough shake.

He looked over at Hoodie, nodding his head towards the direction of Toby. “Go after him before he gets accidentally kills the target. We have to keep them for questioning.” It was a group effort really, while they were after one person, there were others connected to them that you all needed the whereabouts of.

Hoodie strolls past, and while he’s wearing his mask, you can feel the slight smugness of seeing you so dejected.

Once it’s just you and Masky, he shakes at your collar again to get your attention.

“See, now look. Because of you and Toby, Hoodie and I have to play babysitter. Do you think I like doing that?” He questions with his head tilted down to peer at you through the eye sockets of his mask. You bite the insides of your cheek, almost refusing to answer.

It’s not like you, but part of you hates to admit you’re being disobedient—specially towards Masky. But he knows, and he’s not letting you off the hook without you admitting it.

“I’m not going to ask again, mutt.” He hisses out. It makes a whimper slip out of you, like a scolded puppy with her tail tucked in between her legs. “Answer me.”

“No.” You manage, looking up at him with just your eyes, your sad dumb eyes. Masky continues to look down on you, and with the darkness—you can hardly see the lines of his eyes.

He shifts again. “Right, because you’re a grown ass woman, are you not?” You nod but it’s not good enough. He tugs at your collar again, “Are you not?” “I am.”

“Right. So act like it. I give the order, you listen.”

You can’t help but feel guilty, like you had just disappointed him. The frown on your lips has Masky releasing the grip of your shirt before his hand pats at your cheek.

“Now come on,” He orders. “We need to catch up with them. Let’s go, Brat.”

And you follow.

[acidichypoxia]

Jam in my jammies

[cadennwaden]

bray doodle i did last night

[retro-quant]

Still Timlex that’s where my priorities are

1 2 3 ticci Toby ticci Toby ticci Toby

[satinbabeeey]

I'm very embarrassed sorry

Puppy play reader and toby and tim headcanons (preferably not with tim and Toby at the same time, like different relationships) 😓

DONT BE EMBARASSED, I absolutely love writing puppy play. So this ended up being more like a snippet than headcanons, I hope that’s ok!

Puppy Play | Tim and Toby

Content and CW (MDNI): Dom!Tim x sub!reader, sub!Toby x Dom!reader, puppy play, leashing, bdsm, anal play (Tim giving), overstimulation (Tim giving), leg humping (Toby giving).

You’ve decided to try something new with your boyfriend, and all you have is a collar, a plug, and a dream.

✮ 𖦹 ᝰ 🩵

Puppy! Toby

It was only fitting. The way Toby will heel and kneel at your feet when he got needy. What granted you the idea was the way he’d sulk against your thigh, face pushed against the fat of your leg like he’s trying to melt into you. His hands were grabbing at every inch he could get. Soft, warm skin.

He already had the muzzle. So you got him the collar and leash to go with it.

“Puh-puh-“ Toby’s drooling all over your knee, your foot slotted between his thighs. “Please.” He’s grinding his hard on against your leg, dragging the slick across your skin. He’s trying to chase his peak.

But he’s obedient. You can tell him to still and he’ll still. But you can’t keep him quiet.

If he stills, he begs— if you tell him to stop, he whimpers.

“Toby, you’re not listening.” You’d have to coo at him like a frightened animal being talked to. Your hand is less soft, tugging at his leash to remind him of his place.

“I thought you said you’d be a good boy.”

“I am! I’m- whistles- I’m trying!”

You’ll have to tug his leash again before his head hangs low. His whimpers have died down for the most part.

You feel a little bad, Tony resembling a kicked puppy. But another part of you reveled in how easily he filled his role.

And that was enough for you to be generous.

So, like the kind master you are, you spread your legs, allowing enough space for his head to fit through.

You like how Toby perks up at the sight of your invitation. If he really were a dog, you just know his tail would be wagging at such a speed.

“Ok,” You reach for the back of his head to unclasp the muzzle. You dont even need to finish your sentence before he’s diving in, proving how much of a good boy he can be.

Master! Tim:

Tim had just about enough of today. Being sent on a wild goose chase, being around a bunch of idiots that supposedly can’t do anything without making things worse.

Maybe he was being too harsh.

Maybe it was the lack of nicotine in his system that was making him pent up.

You knew that look, the kind that said ‘I need some destressing.’ And for some reason, your idea of helping was to make his blood boil even hotter.

You knew how much he liked the collar on you. Nice firm leather with a silver tag dangling from the center. ‘Tim’s’ engrained into the stainless steel.

It was a gag gift Brian had gifted him. “Got yourself a nice little bitch, huh?” He would’ve gotten socked for that right there if he wasn’t right. You were obedient and submissive enough, but behind closed doors you acted all tough and mighty.

A brat really.

Giving him lip, all while teasing him like he already wasn’t ready to pin you down and use you for stress relief. But he’s got you where he wants you now.

“Sorry…” Your voice is so meek and shaky after your third orgasm.

You’re both in the comfort of your home, your room. Your sheets soaked, the smell of your sex mixing with nicotine. Tim finally got himself a new box to go through, already puffing out a good long smoke.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his shirt off and pants undone. His cock hard and red, despite already stuffing your back hole with his load.

Now, he’s just making sure none of it leaks out, using the plug you keep in your secret little drawer.

“You’re sorry now?” He quips, his hand giving the plug a push when it threatens to pop out. Your ass is clenched and red from the spankings he just gave you for thinking it’d be cute to annoy him more than his peers already had.

But you are cute. You’re lucky you’re cute, tears in your eyes building with that little trembling pout on your lips.

Tim sucks in his cigarette, letting it sit at the back of his throat for a moment before breathing it out.

His hand moves to one of your red cheeks, slowly soothing it. “Yeah, well consider yourself forgiven, pup.”

[classygumi]

DON’T touch habit’s reese’s cups.

habit has his own jar of candy, filled to the brim with reese’s cups. he loved them, ate one after every meal and carried them around like they’re mints. he kept the ceramic jar on the counter for easy access, and when you’d quietly snuck to grab one while he was gone—

“whatcha doing?”

you remembered flinching so hard it made him cackle. you were on your period, simply craving any form of chocolate you could get your hands on. you knew your boyfriend was greedy, greedy in the way he hunted, greedy in the way he practically fused himself to you.

but god forbid you eat one reese’s cup.

“just one?” you whispered, looking up at him pleadingly. he hummed in faux thought, deciding to entertain your begs. his fingers traced along the hem of your (his) hoodie, tickling your soft skin, “what do i get?”

“huh?”

“come on, sweetheart,” he groaned, canines sharp as he grinned, “gotta give me somethin’. i’m givin’ you something.” you laid your head on his chest, and he could see you debating. he knew he was being cruel—it was a reese’s cup. “what do you want?” you murmured.

habit decided to be merciful.

“go get one. but don’t eat it yet, bring it back here t’me.”

you shot up fast enough to make him chuckle, returning with the orange wrapped sweet in your hands. he guided you to straddle his hips, watching you get nervous as you handed him the reese’s. his hands found your thighs, thumbs pressing into the plush skin to help soothe you.

“open it.”

you tore the packaging, gently tearing the second skin off the chocolate. you waited.

“good girl,” he smirked, “now feed it to me.”

you tried to stop yourself from frowning, the cramps in your stomach intensifying and your cravings slowly growing more unbearable. “don’t pout, sweetheart,” he opened his mouth, and you pushed the treat between his teeth, “now, c’mere.”

before you could mourn or question, his hips thrusted upward, forcing you to fall forward against him. your lips connected, and you squeaked in shock at the sudden taste of chocolate, peanut butter, and something purely habit.

when the treat had dissipated in the warmth of your mouths working against each other, the only smear of chocolate left behind was the tiny bit in the corner of your lips. habit’s tongue lolled out, licking your mouth clean.

“y’sweeter than the damn candy,” he mused, “could barely taste it over you.”

habit loved his reese’s cups, but he much preferred this now that he’d gotten a taste of it—the chocolate swirled with your saliva was addictive, and he couldn’t imagine you would touch his reese’s jar without kissing him ever again.

he wondered what he could get you to do next time.

riotrants: he’s just mean