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1-800-cr33py · 7 months

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BREATHE

’’ Let’s try that again hm? “ Brian’s voice was low, teasing. You almost wanted to whine, to cry out in desperation.

But you couldn’t. Despite every fiber of your being telling you to as your lover’s hand crept back up the column of your throat. His hand was calloused, yet his fingers traced the muscle with a care only he could provide you. His hazel eyes studied your face, checking for any signs of discomfort, distress, anything; his eyes held a sadistic glint to them, he was enjoying this.

The power he had over you at this moment was absolutely exhilarating.

Brian laughed at the sight below him, in all honesty it was both pathetic and endearing. You, below him, watching him like he was God himself, like he hung the very stars for you and you only. This was how he liked you; pliant and obedient. Brian drug his thumb across your jaw, tracing shapes as he reveled in your breathless whines and squirming for any kind of friction to alleviate the burning ache between your legs. The sight of you brought a delighted groan from the man; doe-eyes watery from the previous edging he’d inflicted. Brian could almost feel sorry for you.

But he didn’t.

Because this was all your idea.

You trembled as you felt Brian’s free-hand slowly find its way down your body, squeezing at your curves every so often before finding purchase between your shaking thighs. Practically keening as your hips jerked upward to meet his palm, which brought a sharp ‘tsk’ from your lover. The hand around your throat tightened, cutting off the sweet air you’d be gasping for. Mouth agape, eyes already rolling into your skull as Brian plunged his fingers into your weeping core, wetness dripping down you thighs and onto the sheets below. Brian’s eyes never left your face as your hips jerked, hands wrapped around his wrists as you begged. Your sweet voice bouncing off the dark walls.

“ Sweet baby, always trying to please me hm? Yeah, I know, feels so good. “ Brian rasped, curling his fingers, effectively drawing a squeal from your kiss-swollen lips. You face flushed. Though the moment was short-lived, your eyes bulged as your lover withdrew his fingers.

“ Poor babydoll. You never said you wanted to cum tonight. “

Author’s Comments: Heyo! Mod 800 here, 888 is busy tonight so this is really really rushed as smut isn’t my forte so I do thoroughly apologize. I don’t really like this so if it seems edited later on it was most likely 888 (god bless her I love her sm)

#1800cr33py #reqs open #1800cr33py’s kinktober #kinktober 2023 #breathplay #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets headcanons #marble hornets smut #marble hornets #hoodie x reader #the hooded man #mod800

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totallynotandie · 1 month

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A Lot’s On My Mind

Or, my rewrite of MH where Brian doesn’t die (It’s worse than death!)

God, he hopes Tim will understand.

It's the last thought The Hooded Man has before his head hits the concrete, the pain isn’t as bad as he thought it would be but the squishy feeling of the back of his head makes him feel sick. He focuses on Tim instead, almost missing the sight of his old best friend peaking over the balcony. He wants to know how he’s thinking, but the nothingness is too welcoming. He’s wrapped in it like a blanket, wrapping him up until it covers his eyes and he can’t do anything but sleep.

He can finally sleep.

The nothingness is still there but he knows he’s somewhere else. A place he has escaped time and time again but only really remembers when he’s there.

The Ark.

The last place he wanted to end up after that stunt. He can’t find it in him to stand again despite the pain being gone.

Everything Is Normal.

The sky is so dark that he can’t tell if he’s closed his eyes or not and the thought makes him so tired. He just wants to sleep now but if he is still alive then he needs to leave this place. He doesn’t want to know what would happen if he let himself drift away here.

Food For The Ark.

The thought hits him hard enough to make him fling upwards, the motion causing his head to spin. He brings his hand back to assess the damage, cringing at the squishy feeling of what could only be blood and deciding not to look for his sanity.

Everything Is Fine.

He decides that it's probably a concussion, not the worst thing he has dealt with and it won’t be the last - probably. He’ll have to worry about that after he escapes. He digs a flashlight out of his hoodie pocket, using it to at least see the ground in front of him.

The Hooded Man pushes himself to his feet, stumbling over his lanky legs while fighting the blurry vision caused by his small headache. That was the one thing he enjoyed about The Ark - its ability to at least numb most of the pain. His normally dry throat didn’t burn while he breathed, he almost felt like he could speak clearly if he tried but what was the point when there was no one to speak to?

A part of him missed talking, he remembers never being able to shut up when he was younger and made acquaintances everywhere he went. Everyone knew him- or at least knew he was a friendly guy. He was never alone, always having someone there to talk about the latest shitty movie or any other pointless thing that mattered at the time. But he was alone now, alone and staring down into a dark hole that seemed to go on forever.

Maybe a fall from there would work better.

He turns away from the hole and is met with the sight of someone else lying on the ground.

Jay.

By the looks of it, there's nothing left but a shell - A broken mind.

There is nothing he can do for him now and so he walks away. But the darkness swallows the light and causes his flashlight to be worthless.

Keep moving.

He can’t stop, he has to get out, he has to see them again.

His flashlight works enough to land on The Operator's blank face.

He is falling- no, he’s sinking in the water now. It's cold but that's the least of his problems with all the worries running through his head. He doesn’t want to die, he just wants to get away from its influence. He misses being normal, he misses his friends- He misses his mom.

He couldn’t stop himself from mourning a life he could no longer have- it infected him with something incurable, something that was going to always come back. The tears mix with the water while he thinks of the worst.

This is where I should stay now. Away from anyone I could ever hurt again. Away from-

He knew that white mask but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for it. He hadn’t seen Tim use the mask for months now. Had he been able to break away from it? Was he thrown down here to be taunted by it? Or was this just where things went when they weren’t needed anymore?

That made the most sense to him- what would he even do if he came back? He already proved time and time again that he didn’t have the guts to kill someone. That’s how Alex kept getting away from him and it made him feel like the biggest dumbass between the four of them. But he tried to fix that but helping in other ways- he tried to tell the others everything he knew, But no matter how hard he tried it only came out in riddles or code.

This was the clearest he’s been able to think in a long time.

He finally makes it to the end of the water but there's no ground, like a flipped image he falls through like the sky was just one big pond. He feels like he’s falling forever but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Wasn’t all this supposed to end the last time he fell? It made his stomach churn in the way it does when he sees blood just thinking about what a big splat he’ll make.

But he’s laying face first in the grass now and he doesn’t remember landing. He can’t even remember if he was falling anymore- was it just messing with his head? The air smells better here, smells familiar but he’s too busy collecting himself to connect what it is.

He rips his mask off after pushing himself up to sit on his knees, looking around dumbfoundedly at the familiar scene before him.

He was home.

But he shouldn’t be, dead people don’t get to return home.

But he also couldn’t ignore how…alive he felt. Like a video game character who just used a health potion. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good, even before The Operator he would always have something sore- a hangnail or a mosquito bite. It felt unnatural to feel no pain. But he could still feel- he felt his knees getting damp from the grass, the warm night air on his face, the cool feeling of breathing it all in.

He was home and he was…free?

Brian could still think clearly like he was in The Ark but the world in front of him was full of color. He was in the backyard of the house he grew up in, the house his mom owns.

I haven’t seen her since that morning I left to shoot with Alex...

The day Brian died The Hooded Man took his place, but Brian is back now and he misses his mom. He’s quickly on his feet and walking towards the back door, ignoring how the door is painted a different color. The familiar white is replaced with red and the chicken sign she always had hanging on it is gone too.

It doesn’t matter, people change and so do the things they own.

He doesn’t have a key, but years of accidentally forgetting his key somewhere made him learn how to learn how to pick locks. Luckily he remembers that he already broke the lock on one of the dining room’s windows when he was still learning. Deciding to work smarter, not harder, he rounds the house and tries to open the window.

It’s Locked.

It looks like his mom fixed it but he’s still able to pick the lock. It slides open easily and he still expects Cooper to run up and greet him- probably waking his mom with his barking. But all he hears is the ticking of a grandfather clock that he doesn’t quite remember his mom owning.

It’s been like, 6 years? I’m probably just isn’t remembering right.

He pulls himself in, his feet muffled by the new white carpet that his muddy boots soiled. He’ll have to clean that up later because he’s too distracted by all the new changes his mom put into the house while he’s been gone. The dining table stayed the same but where it normally had fresh flowers it now held some piece of modern art, he’s unsure what it’s supposed to be as it just looks like a white cube with more cubes flouting off it.

She sure has gotten some weird tastes since I’ve been gone.

He chuckles while he picks it up, flipping it around in his hand to look it over. He cringes at the mud that he leaves on it and decides it’ll be a better surprise if he cleans up his mess before she wakes up. The broom closest is where he remembers it, but the products in it are more expensive than he remembers.

Did dad start sending her more money?

He wonders, a bitter taste from the thought of his absent father whose only good came from the steady paychecks. Brian hasn’t seen him since he was 10, the last time either of them saw him while he gave his mother a wad of cash and flew off to Vegas. Brian thought he would have gambled everything away already, but it looks like his father took all of the familys luck.

He grabs some sprays and realizes the rags aren’t where they usually are. Looking around again he notices that the familiar tan wallpaper is now gone and replaced with an off-white paint, making the whole room brighter. Something about it made Brian feel sick, like he should be realizing something but his brain just wont let him.

I just need some water…can’t remember the last time I’ve had any.

He stumbles to the kitchen, trying to ignore his racing heart. He tries not to notice that he doesn’t recoganze any of the mugs, filling one up at the refurnished sink and chugging all the water down in big gulps. He repeats this a few times, not realizing how much he missed water even after having almost drowned 10 minutes earlier. When he’s done he leans back against the sink and lets out a sigh, basking in the feeling of being in his childhood home again.

But instead of smelling like breakfast food and cheap flowers it smells like artificial vanilla and pizza. When he opens his eyes he stares at the remodeled kitchen, unable to recognize anything from his childhood. He desperately tries to find anything familiar, pausing when his eyes land on the fridge.

Pictures of a family that looks too happy to be considered real replace his baby photos. He can’t help but to slowly walk towards it, pulling what had to be a stock photo off, letting the magnet hit the floor while he just stares at it.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

“Put your hands where I can see ‘em’.” A man stands at the door in a bathrobe, a handgun pointing expertly at Brian's head. How long had he been staring at the photo? How is the stock image man in the same room as him?

“Why are you in my house?” His voice is deeper than he remembers but much smoother than it should be from not using it for the last 6 or 7 years. He keeps his eyes on the floor, hoping so desperately that it isn’t what he thinks is happening to him. Stuff like that only happened in cheesy movies.

“This ain’t your house, me and my family been living here for years.” The safety clicks and Brian looks up at the man, tears running down his face at a revelation that he was still desperately hoping to be false.

The older man stares at him for a moment, eyes widening before he slowly lowers his gun. “Wait…wait a moment. You’re that missing kid. Brian Thomas? We still have a paper up for you in the office.”

Kid? He had to be in his late 20s by now.

“What happened to my mom? Grace Thomas. She lived here.”

“Oh…kid.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else after that, a different kind of ringing filling his ears as if to try and protect him. But it quickly became familiar when he saw its face pushed against the dining room window, only slightly visible from his view from the kitchen and the off-duty cop in front of him. Thoughts that he knew now weren’t his filled his mind, thoughts of the stock photo family staining the stupid white carpet red.

How dare they live so happily in what was supposed to be his home.

He bites his tongue to try and ignore what the operator is putting in his head, but when did it get in the dining room?

Mom died because I wasn’t here to take care of her when she was sick.

He knows that. It doesn’t need to keep repeating it to him.

“What the fuck in that??”

Gunshots snap him out of it for a moment, watching the poor man in front of him desperately try and shoot at the creature and somehow miss every shot despite his close range. Brian can’t help but be a little impressed that he had the balls to do that, the thought had never crossed his mind.

There’s nothing left for me now, I might as well do as I’m told.

The gun is still in his pocket and while he knows that thought really isn’t his own he still can’t get over the relief he knows he will feel after he finally gets this all over with. Maybe it will finally leave him alone this time.

It’s not like his mom will get the chance to be disappointed in him now.

For the first time since he became The Hooded Man, he raises the gun with a clear head.

For the first time, He does as The Operator wishes.

#marble hornets #marble hornets fanfic #brian thomas #the hooded man #mh hoody #mh hoodie #tim wright #mh masky #marble hornets comic

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