#i just like the idea of him clawing at the photographs on the walls

[toxicanonymity]

Jailbird.

1.5k / Cellmate’s nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader

thank you @iamasaddie for the mood board!!!

PART 2 HERE: Collect calls

Summary: Your cellmate introduces you to her hot nephew and he comes to visitation hours. A/N: Part 1 of 3. This one is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes and @raccoonhandedhottie's nerve to put the idea of doing one in my head. My masterlist WARNINGS: References to sex work, ACAB. Horny phone/visitation talk, mild/non-explicit over-pants masturbation. Mickey Avalon Easter egg.

Without Mabel, you're not sure how you would've survived your first six months in lock-up. You were cuffed for solicitation when a dirty cop wouldn't pay what he owed.  He says he took it easy on you -- you also clawed him and spit in his face.  As soon as you told your new cellmate what really happened, she took a liking to you. She said you should've bitten him in the pecker.   Mabel had been there, done that. She even knew of the cop who put you away.  It wasn't Mabel's first time behind bars. She had the ink and reputation to prove it. Her knuckles said "TAKE NONE" and that was accurate.  By now, nobody gave her any shit. Soon enough, no one gave you any either. 

Mabel had a few photographs on her wall, mostly of her and a younger man. Not a particularly young man, but certainly younger than Mabel. He was probably in his early forties in the pictures, which were five years prior, before she violated her parole. She was giving you a poke and stick tat of a four leaf clover on your hand one day when you asked about the pictures. 

"I was wonderin' when ya were gonna ask about my lil Jojo. I've seen ya lookin' at him, ya little horndog..." 

She let you stammer around in response. "No, I, I'm just, making conversation, wanna get to know you better." 

"It's okay, baby. He's my nephew. All I got left. He's a neat kid."

"He looks happy to be with you–ouch!"

"Don't be a pussy. Oh, he's a real sweet boy. Bet he'd like you, too."

"What makes you say that?"

She looked up from your hand "cause ya got a cunt and you're not bad lookin'," she laughed. "Hey,” she raised her eyebrows. “You ever wanna borrow one of those pics, you let me know, I'll give ya some privacy."

"No thanks."

"Oh, come on. You can fold it so ya don't have to see my pretty face." 

You laughed. 

"Bet he'd dick ya down real good, too."

"What?" You asked, quietly disturbed. 

"He lives with me. Walls are thin." 

"Ah. That must be awkward."

"Not really! We're all human. I could even tell ya the kinda shit he says if ya want. He can get real filthy.  Or shit, I could just give ya his number."

"That's ok."

"Baby, he'd love to hear from ya. Trust me. I've told him all about ya." She put down the needle and picked up a tissue to dab your skin. 

"You have??"

"Oh yeah. Here, I'm gonna write it down." 

She took one of the photos off the wall and wrote his number on the back. Then she folded it in half and winked at you as she handed it to you. 

—----------------

It only took a week of her nagging for you to call “Jojo.” 

Your breath hitched when you heard his smooth, deep voice. The first thing he said was, “Ah, call me Joel,” and you could hear the smile on his face. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Well your aunt’s told me a lot about you, Joel.” 

“Yeah, I can only imagine what,” he faux grumbled. “Real character, ain’t she?”

“I love Mabel,” you blurted out. 

You found yourself opening up about how in some ways, she was more of a mother figure than you ever had.  Joel was easy to talk to. It just came pouring out. You told him about Mabel’s antics and the mischief the two of you got up to. Things you’d steal from the cafeteria. The way Mabel kept the ladies in line who tried to dom you. Next thing you knew, your time was up.  You apologized profusely for talking Joel’s ear off about yourself. 

“Nahhhh, it was nice,” Joel said. “Hell of a lot more interesting than my life.”

“Well it was good talking to you,” you told him. 

He said, “Hey, call me back any time.”

There was nothing sexy at all about that first conversation, but his voice did something to you.  You squeezed your thighs together when you got back to your cell and looked at the photo. Mabel kept giving you a knowing look. 

—------

You started calling Joel regularly.  Mabel told you he liked you a lot, but you weren’t sure if you should believe her. She seemed overly eager to set him up. The conversations were brief and casual. When you didn’t call him one week, the next time you spoke, he told you he missed the sound of your voice. 

Something came over you and you broke the tension. “My voice?” you asked. “Joel, your voice. . . you dunno what it does to me,” you blurted out. Zero to sixty, just like that. 

“Well damn,” Joel said. “Shoulda said somethin’. Coulda given ya better than stories about Mabel.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like whatever ya want, jailbird.” Your heart fluttered “Whatever gets ya hot and bothered.” 

“Honey, you could read me the phone book,” you told him. 

He chuckled. “Haven’t seen one of those in a few years.”  His voice was sexy to begin with but the sharp edge of the phone connection made it even hotter. 

After a moment of tense silence, he said, “Hey, uh, you notice any of your pictures missin’?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Mabel mailed me one. Didn’t tell me you were a fuckin’ smokeshow.”

You laughed bashfully. 

“Well she did. But I had to see it for myself, and shit”

“Well, thanks. You’re not bad looking yourself.” 

Your time was almost up. 

“Hey I’m comin’ to see Mabel later this week. Y’all got the same visitor’s night or what? Cause I’d love to see you, too, if it’s allowed.” 

“Nah, mine’s the next night.” 

“S’alright, i’ll come back for ya, sugar.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“I’ve gotta go.”

“I know. Be good, jailbird.” 

—--------

It was visitation day and you were getting nervous. Mabel thought it was adorable. She helped you get ready. Did your hair nice. “He’s already smitten with ya, baby,” she said. 

You were escorted into the visitation room and sat at one of the booths, separated by glass, with a phone on each side. 

When Joel came in, you didn’t recognize him at first.  In just those five years, his beard had turned half-silver.  He was striking in person.  He was wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans. Tight jeans. You couldn’t help but size up the bulge in them. 

When you looked up at his face, he was raising his eyebrows at you like he caught you looking.  He sat down and put his elbows on the table. You picked up the phone, a little nervous, but more excited than anything.  He checked you out and smiled at you coyly before picking up the phone. 

“Like what ya see?” he said softly into the phone. 

You replied with a low whistle, then asked, “You always dress like a piece of meat?” He had a few hand tattoos of his own. Faded, blurred together. A spade between his thumb and forefinger. A spiderweb curving around one of his biceps. He’d probably done his own time. 

“When the hell are ya gettin’ outta here?”

“Up for parole next month,” you said. 

“No shit!” He looked genuinely excited. 

“Mabel didn’t tell you?”

“Thought she was yankin’ my chain.” He stretched his free hand behind his head and you watched his bicep.  “You been good? Think you’ll get out?” 

“Haven’t been bad.” 

“Good.” He lowered his voice. “‘Cause sugar, I’m gonna need to see what’s under that garb.”

You smiled with faux shyness, and he continued, “God damn,” looking at you like a juicy leg of lamb. 

You stared at each other, checking each other out for a moment. You watched his pupils dilate as your chest rose and fell with desire. 

You made small talk for a minute or two, all the while fucking each other with your eyes. But, things took a turn again.

“What do you miss the most?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. “Bet ya don’t miss the clients.” 

You shook your head. 

He lowered his voice further. “When’s the last time ya had a nice hard cock ya really wanted?”

Your eyes widened. “Shit, I dunno.” 

“Ohhh you’re in for it.” You looked around, paranoid, in disbelief that you could get away with a conversation like this. “Ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” He reached his hand into his lap. “Fuck. ‘specially for you.” You could see his arm moving very slowly but there was no mistaking what he was doing.  His eyes devoured you.

“Joel,” you sighed. “Fuck, I believe it.” 

And just like that, a guard approached him from behind. “Time’s up,” the guard said and glared at you.  You rolled your eyes as a guard approached you, too.

Joel said “Later, jailbird” and hung up the phone.  When he stood up, his massive erection was visible and made your heart skip a beat.  You glanced up to his face and he was wetting his lips. He winked at you with pink cheeks and your eyes immediately fell back to his crotch as he adjusted himself and the guard hurried him away. 

FUCK. You were gushing. Mabel’s Jojo. Joel. What a man.

---------

Part 2

Ty for reading. strip club manager!Joel will be an alternate timeline of this Joel set in the past while Mabel was on parole. DIFFERENT READER. preview

this trope actually gave me so many more elaborate ideas lmao.

------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️ #cellmate's nephew!joel #CN!Joel Miller #CN!Joel #cellmate's nephew!joel miller #jojo ☠️

[accio-victuuri]

selfie points, custom red envelope, joint celebration rumors & AU pairings 🧧🎉🎉

happy CNY to all of you! it’s a happy day for the fandom and not even because of candies— but due to fans making so many content as new year gifts. i have personally enjoyed the photos and video edits of AU pairings. you can check this round-up for the links of those posts so you can enjoy all of it 🫶🏼

the best way to start this post is to clown over xz’s CNY selfie. this is usual for zz, posting one during this day and every year, we tend to speculate over it so this is a tradition already. lol. anyway, i wanna explain more on the caption and the exclamation he was using: 龘龘龘龘！

thank you to baidu for explaining and it makes sense now why he used it: 龘 (pronounced as dá, ㄉㄚˊ [7] ) is a Chinese character with the radical dragon, a variant of "龖" , and the meaning of the character refers to the shape of a flying dragon.

dragon fits because it’s the year of the dragon and he also used an emoji for that. his hand was also posed as the claw of a dragon. 🐲

now back to candies related to this selfie...

people are saying that this was taken using his wechat camera and in selfie mode. which, like what we usually cpn, is because he was sending it to someone else. what we got is another leftover selfie. another one is what’s drawn/reflected in his eye? if you’ve been here long enough, you may be familiar with people saying that ZZ will edit his eyes to show something else. there were examples before that were kinda believable but i personally think it’s a stretch. xz is definitely an artist who loves to hide things in his art, which includes his photos so it is probable. i just don’t know how far he will take it. what fans are comparing it to as possible reference are the two: happy camp hand stand or a photo of wyb in SDC 6.

my favorite part tho is the second photo shared. i always feel like if xz is only giving us 2 photos, then it means something. the selfie makes sense— but the other one? i actually expected him to share a photo of food that he is eating. anyway, it’s a winterberry ( one of it’s names ) and is a known means health and longevity, no illness or disaster, suitable for decorating during spring festival it is believed to bring happiness and good luck.

this is seen frequently in relation to ZZ:

One old cpn we have is that WYB gives him this in bouquets for his filming wrap up events knowing that he likes it. maybe not exactly how it looks but what it means. most popular being during OOL. He posted a different bouquet from what was given to him by the crew as per the wrap up bts video 👀 so why? what’s so important? was he trying to make someone happy? that is mostly explained in the last part of this post.

the speculation is he included that because wyb gave it to him. or that he gifted it to WYB, who took a photo of it and sent it back to him so he is sharing as well. wait… where did we get that idea? 🤔

again, another galaxy brain observation… the wall. it’s not the most unique kind of wall and it’s hard to tell in wyb’s video— but this video went on HS today as wyb’s new year greeting. so it kinda makes sense that gg will use that clue. wherever this was taken, probably wyb’s office, that’s where he placed the flowers. mister photographer wyb then took a photo and sent it to zz to show his appreciation for it.

lastly, a tiny clue from yibo-official is the emoji they used for their cny greeting. does it look familiar????

AHHHHHHH! What a coincidence!!!! 👀

to add this “emoji clue” in his photo that includes this hat. this freakin hat that launched a ton of cpn posts. interesting….

NEXT IS YBO’s custom red envelope cover for this year. They also did this last year, which we also clowned over.

black panther is something that in this fandom is widely accepted cpn was made by xz. and it’s still there. the panther looks like he has something that looks like what xz wore and drew before. also those personal connections to wyb like the 85 and skateboard, which i understand is a common yibo element and anyone can just add it. personally, i think xz did the panther on the shoulder only. 🤍

I will lightly discuss the rumor going around cpfs, especially the morning of 2/9 when cpfs have noticed that both zz and wyb have turned off their ip address locator on douyin. this usually means they don’t want people to know where they are. there are rumors that zz’s parents already arrived in Hengdian the night before 2/8 and that wyb + his parents are also going to HD so the whole joint family can spend CNY together ♥️

tho i have to say HD is a populated place, but i feel like most people will have the day off and the two are so careful so they won’t get caught. Treat this as fanfic for now. if this is true, we will clues in the next months. that’s just how turtle cpns go.

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #i miss doing round ups like this #cause it’s been kinda quiet #i’m gonna regret saying that lol

[harlowsbby]

Mother’s Day Shenanigans 🩷

Mother’s Day in your household was definitely well you just had to be there to experience everything. Usually Urban would have Phoenix draw you something or make you a little gift.

This year since it was going to be not only Phoenix but Venus as well Urban decided to get pictures taken of the kids but what Urban didn’t realize just how stressful it was going to be working with a 7 year old and a 3 year old.

“Phoenix what are you doing? Venus what are you doing.” Urban so badly wanted to pull all of his hair out as the kids ran around.

He still to this day had no idea how you managed to go grocery shopping with the kids or honestly do anything with them even though that sounded a bit harsh he just had a new source of respect for you and mothers everywhere.

The photographer was looking at Urban wondering what he was going to do, Urban’s cheeks were red from embarrassment. “See and this is exactly why I’m not having kids.” Jack told Urban as he sat back in the chair.

Phoenix and Venus yelled at screamed as they ran around the studio, the two of them running past all the equipment.

“Come on Phoenix stop chasing your sister around and sit on the box.” Urban demanded but of course the kids weren’t listening, Phoenix was too busy chasing around Venus with a flower and surprisingly who would’ve thought Venus hated flowers.

“Daddy!” Venus cried out and eventually ran over towards Urban and his behind his legs. “Stop hiding Venus it’s just a silly flower it won’t hurt you.” Phoenix pushed the flower back in her face making her cry out and make grabby hands so Urban would pick her up.

Phoenix giggled and tossed the flower in her face making her screech and practically claw at Urban’s back.

“Phoenix Wyatt you need to stop terrorizing your sister and sit down on the box so we can take these pictures and get back home before your mother finds out!.”

Urban never raised his voice at any of the kids but he just felt so overwhelmed now he knew exactly how you felt.

Phoenix’s bottom lip began to quiver and before Urban knew it his eyes began to fill with tears and the only sound coming from the studio was his cries.

“Well that does it, come on Phoenix let’s step outside for a bit.” Jack took his little hand and led him outside. Urban sighed and placed Venus on the chair.

“I’m sorry Urban but I have another client in a few minutes so I don’t think I’ll be able to take your pictures, I’m so sorry.” Joey the photographer told Urban he nodded his head in understanding. “Come on Venus let’s just go home.”

When they got outside Phoenix had the rose in his hand and was leaned against the brick wall outside of the studio. “What’s going on?” Urban asked Jack. “We’re about to get that photo shoot one way or another.”

“But the photographer wasn’t able to get any pictures?” Jack rolled his eyes and handed Urban his camera.

“Urban, you literary take pictures for a living I don’t even understand why you tried hiring someone when you can do it yourself.” Jack was right Urban didn’t need some fancy equipment from someone else when he had his own.

“Venus go over there and stand with Phoenix.” Luckily she was able to without Phoenix messing with her and Urban smiled as he took pictures of the kids.

Jack stood in the background making funny noises to keep them entertained and Urban was able to get some good shots.

After taking a few more pictures they all went out to get ice cream while Jack and Venus went to pick out the flavors. Phoenix and Urban stayed back at the benches waiting for the ice cream.

“Daddy?” Phoenix mumbled and Urban looked at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Yes bub?” “Do you not love me anymore?” Phoenix sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “What? I don’t hate you Phoenix nor would I ever stop loving you it’s just you need to listen for daddy okay? And you need to stop bugging your sister especially when she doesn’t like it okay?”

Phoenix nodded and scoffed over closer to Urban and leaned against him. “I love you Daddy.” “I love you too Phoenix.”

Once Jack and Venus came back they all ate their ice cream in silence when they finished Urban dropped Jack off at home before going back home himself. You were out of town on a business trip and would be back home tomorrow morning just in time for Mother’s Day.

Urban got the kids showered and put to bed Phoenix somehow conceived Urban to let them all sleep in the living room, while they were all sleep Urban brought out the heart shaped balloons he had bought you along with the flowers, the pictures he took earlier of the kids he hung them on pieces of wire so they’d be dangling from the ceiling.

After he finished he looked around and nodded his head in approval at his work before heading to sleep himself with both of the kids on each side of him.

————————————————————————

“I’m sure the house looks a mess.” You told your friend Annie who was on the phone, you had just got back home and gosh were you glad to be back. “I doubt it but I’ll talk to you later alright?”

“Alright I’ll see you later Annie.” You hung up the phone and unlocked the front door. “I’m home!” You went to yell but stopped seeing all the decorations everywhere and your sleeping husband and kids on the living room floor.

“Oh my babies.” You cried out and coo’d at them sleeping peacefully on the floor, you began to tear up seeing the photos of the kids and the hand written notes from the both of them.

You took off one of the pictures that was hanging down, it was a picture of Phoenix holding Venus’s hand the two of them laughing at the camera.

You adored your kids so much and when you saw the pictures of Urban laying on the grass with the kids jumping on top of him it just sent you completely overboard with emotions.

You started crying and had to step out so you wouldn’t wake Urban and the kids up.

“I told you she’d start crying.” Urban mumbled to Phoenix, he giggled and snuggled back into Urban.

“Why does mommy cry so much?” Venus asked all three of them were peaking from behind the couch as you stood outside on the porch trying to control your emotions.

“Yeah mommy cries so much just like Venus does.” Phoenix stated causing for Venus to stick her tongue out at him. “Phoenix.” Urban said sternly and he stopped.

“Your mommy just has a lot of emotions that’s all.” Urban told them. “Let’s just get back to bed before she makes us clean all this up.” They all headed back to bed instantly.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #urban wyatt concept #urban wyatt blurb

[jaeyunverse]

twelve — face to face

Your patience was wearing very thin.

It had already been several minutes since you’d texted Scorch to come to meeting room 3, but he was still nowhere in sight.

Nobody’s constipation could be that severe.

Letting out a sound of frustration, you stomped over to the glass wall and glared at the office on the other side.

There the idiot was, perched on a work desk, shamelessly flirting with one of the female employees like he had zero responsibilities to attend to.

“Motherfucker,” you cursed and banged your fist against the glass. Every single person turned to look at you—including the woman he was hitting on—but the asshole kept pretending like he had heard nothing.

You considered giving in to the urge that was clawing at you to drown his lungs.

Unfortunately, initiating any sort of physical violence was not permitted in the office premises. Plus, there were cameras and people around, so it wasn’t like you could label Scorch’s sudden death as an accident.

What you could do, though, was strip him of his dignity.

Calmly walking over to the meeting room’s door, you ripped it open and chirped, “Hey, Scorch! How’s your constipation now?”

You didn’t need to see what was behind Scorch’s mask to know he was embarrassed by your words. The instant increase in temperature made it very obvious.

“You gotta stop trying so hard, buddy,” you continued gleefully. “Sometimes one needs to know when to give up. Besides, not everyone’s gonna be as accomodating as me and let you come to meetings late because of messed up bowel movements.”

The entire office had gone silent, and to your satisfaction, it looked like everyone was struggling to hold their laughter. Except the woman Scorch had been flirting with—she had a horrified expression pasted on her face.

“Chop, chop!” You brought your hands together. “There will be enough time to shit and hit on women far superior to you later on! We gotta fight crime right now.”

Scorch silently rose from the employee’s work desk, fire igniting at his fingertips as he slowly stalked towards you.

It was almost hilarious how the people standing in his way scuttered away. You didn’t blame them for being scared, though. You had your water to keep Scorch in check; the rest had nothing. Not that he’d ever hurt anyone innocent.

“You’ve got a mouth on you today, haven’t you?” he growled once you’d closed the door behind him.

“Don’t I always?” you answered sweetly and shut the blinds as well.

Immediately, the fire engulfed his fists. You rolled your eyes and doused it with your water.

“Can I beat your ass later? This is more important. Take a look at the file first,” you said, pointing at the envelope lying on the table. “We need to go undercover.”

Scorch seemed unwilling to back down without a fight, but he must have heard the seriousness in your voice. Trudging to the table, he tore the envelope and scanned the contents of the file.

“Crime Analytics has intel on a robbery at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art,” you provided as he read. “It’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“Why is this case assigned to us?” Scorch mumbled without looking at you. “There’s a photograph of the suspect in the file with enough evidence to back it up. Why can’t the police arrest him and deal with this?”

“Because the analytics department thinks it’s going to be someone with powers. Just like us.”

He finally looked at you. “Like us? You’re saying there’s a supervillain out there?”

“The file is.” You nodded at the document. “We’re too recognisable. We can’t waltz in with our suits on and risk him attacking us on sight inside a building with hundreds of people and art worth millions. We have to go in as civilians and immobilise the suspect when his guard is low.”

“Wait, this doesn’t make any sense.” Scorch shook his head. “How have we never heard of this supervillain before?”

You shrugged. “No idea. I bet the board knows more, but when do they ever tell us anything? We’re just puppets for them to control.”

“How come we never went rogue?” Scorch mumbled and slumped down in a chair. “We’re the strongest people on Earth.”

You started counting on your fingers. “We’re bound by a contract, they have money and power and could ruin our lives if they wanted to, they cut us open and put a tracking chip so we’d never run away—”

“You can stop.”

“And the company might be capitalistic as fuck, but they do give us the opportunity to fight crime the best we can,” you completed. “Deep down, you and I know that we’ve only been able to help so many people because of their intel, and that’s why we have never stepped out of line.”

Scorch supposed you were right.

“So, what’s the plan,” he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“We go in as a couple.”

Scorch snickered, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat. “Right. I’m sure you would like that.”

“Get off your high horse,” you scoffed. “Siblings don’t go to art museums together.”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “I’ve never been to one. But I think going undercover and answering unwanted questions as a couple on a date would be easier.”

Scorch wasn’t able to completely understand the logic behind your reasoning, but he dropped it. There was something about a museum date slash mission with you that sounded very appealing.

“So, what, I’m finally going to get to see your fuckface now?” he joked.

“Don’t sound so excited,” you snorted. “I might think you’re in love with me.”

“The entire world already thinks so,” Scorch popped. “I don’t see what more harm can come out of you deluding yourself as well.”

You huffed a laugh and collapsed into the chair beside him. “You’re taking the SIU account too seriously. It’s all for shits and giggles.”

“Try saying that when you’re declared as the homophobe, bully and furry!” he whined.

“You forgot about misogynist.”

“Oh, yeah. Let me fix that by choking you.”

“Kinky.”

“To death,” Scorch added.

Despite yourself, you laughed again. This was nice—conversing without getting into each others’ faces. You found that you preferred it when you were just hurling insults and threatening to kill each other without planning to follow up on it.

Scorch was annoying as hell, but he was also the only person in the entire building that you could remotely rely on. He was in the same position you were and understood what it was like to be powerful yet powerless at the same time.

“So,” you began. “You wanna do the face reveal first or should I?”

“I already know what you—” Scorch stopped himself before he could continue. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could ask him what he was referring to, he went on, “Ladies first.”

You couldn’t believe you were sort of nervous. It was ridiculous how you were afraid of disappointing him in some way. You hated him, for God’s sake. Besides, a man’s validation shouldn’t have mattered anyway.

Yet, you found yourself holding your breath and closing your eyes as you took your Spandex mask off.

Your hair fell on your face, and you enjoyed the little cover it offered before running a hand through it and getting it out of your way.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Scorch staring at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking because his mask was still on, but you hoped it wasn’t anything bad.

Contrary to popular belief, superheroes had insecurities and self-esteem issues too.

“If you’re thinking something along the lines of how can someone be so beautiful, the answer is God has favourites and I’m one of them,” you said breezily and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Your turn, Walmart Torch.”

Scorch appeared to stay frozen for a moment, but then he cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, whatever.”

A second later, his mask was gone, too, and the sight you beheld had you sucking in a breath.

Damn, he was hot.

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summary: being a superhero is hard, but having to work with your arch nemesis who turns out to be just your type is even harder.

note: i’m actually insane i wrote this entire chapter on phone right now and what’s worse is that i wrote it on fucking TUMBLR instead of docs....... i need help my head aches so much it’s going to explode BUT I HOPE Y’ALL LIKED THE WRITTEN CHAPTER <33 finally an insight into their dynamic/personality irl :’)

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#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jake imagines #jake scenarios #enhypen smau #jake smau #enhypen fanfiction #jake fanfiction #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enhypen oneshots #jake oneshots #enhypen #jake sim #enhypen fluff #jake fluff #enhypen soft hours #jake soft hours #enhypen drabbles #jake drabbles #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen timestamps #jake timestamps #enhypen social media au #jake social media au #enhypen texts #jake texts #enhypen blurbs #jake blurbs

[wh0rephobic]

what do you think about william x photographer!reader:)) i cant seem to get this idea outta my head. just imagine william catches the reader taking pics of him in every angle possible or something like that i dunnoo😩

ahhhhh (cw: mentioned of sex tapes, public sex, exhibitionism and such)

yesssss i love this. always catching william off-guard with the shutter of your camera. doesn’t matter what it is, if he’s puffing smoke out in front of the window, or just sat next to you on the couch with your legs draped over his lap while you change to film before snapping pictures of only your most favorite details of william’s body. the sophisticated crows-feet outlining his eyes, the way the sleeves of his button-up hug his strong forearms so nicely… continuing to travel down his arms, you also love the way the black and white film increase the contrast of his veiny hands, no matter what they’re doing. if they’re thumbing the pages of a new book or swirling some whiskey in a glass… his head always snaps to you whenever the camera sounds.

“whatcha doing there, doll?” he utters lowly.

you lower the camera, eyes still stuck on his lanky fingers for a moment before you blink them up to his eyes.

“nothing,” you smile.

but he knows. he knows everything, he knows that you like taking pictures of him but he just lets you do it to boost his ego. his eyes glance from yours down to the camera gripped in your hands, and over to his hands. he scoffs, shaking his head with a playful smile and turning away to let you just keep doing what you’re doing.

ugh, just looking at his hands can make you breathless. your head reels at the thought of them on you, grazing those rough fingertips up your shaking thighs, calloused from working so precisely on those animatronics. you can picture it now, the way he teases you with them, ghosting them all the way up to the crease of your torso and leg, legging his thumbs dig into that tense skin and rub in even circles, making you clench your teeth as you try to hold in your easy moans. he takes leverage there to spread your slowly pressing thighs and watch the way your slick oozes through your folds, pooling down onto the sheets and making a whorish mess before he even starts to truly touch you. how pathetic.

or even in you, he only uses two fingers to stretch out your small cunt, relishing in the way it squeezes around them when he crooks those hard and delightfully textured pads, making you claw at the sheets and sob for him whenever he pets your sensitive walls. he purrs darkly in your ear when he suddenly brings his skilled thumb into play, massaging your swollen bud. your eyes are crossing helplessly while he draws out your orgasm with the lust on his tongue.

“i bet that’s feels good, doesn’t it? oh, you sensitive little thing… poor bunny can barely even handle my fingers. how am i supposed to fuck you like this, huh? you’ll fall apart!” he coos, and you beg him to break you.

the fact that those hands are yours makes your head spin.

but things aren’t limited to photo, as william proposes a new idea to you: sex taping.

you’re surprisingly into it. when you angle the camera just right on its tripod so that you can capture the way your bodies indulge in each other perfectly. when william is not home, watching porn is fine. but when you have your own porn, it’s almost as good as if he were right there with you. hearing his voice, seeing his cock… you teach him how to use the camera so that he can hold it at angles he wants when you two film, catching every tear that drops from your pretty doe eyes and the stretch of your lips around his thick cock. william is a shameless man. he has no concern when he brings your camera to the store (with your permission) and offers it up to the employee at the desk to print your sex tapes out onto discs so that he can bring them to work and replay the moment that his hot cum shoots out over your face over, and over, and over…

having these tapes are also good for when you want to do projects on anatomy.

but these shenanigans don’t always stay in the house. william is more than happy to jump in the car with you and drive you however far you want to go until you find some sort of beautiful scenery to look over. you two spend time going on hikes together, only for you to spend thirty minutes taking pictures that look so good they could go on a calendar. you also, of course take pictures of william looking over the cliffs that you two find. you then spend another thirty minutes rolling in the grass with william’s cock stuffed deep inside you, kissing your cervix with every thrust.

but your favorite places to go to are waterfalls. they’re so romantic and pretty to photograph… you also love it because whenever you’re done taking pictures, the two of you strip and get to go skinny dipping in the freshwater, which usually ends up with you two making out so hard that you forget about your surroundings again, letting the water carry you downstream until william pins you against a rock in the water and fucks you raw right then in there, your nails scratching down his back while his lips wrap around your nipple, rolling it between his teeth as his cock pushes into your g-spot like it’s meant to be there always and his fingers work your clit. it’s not proper. none of these things are, but it’s human and it’s nature, and you’ve never felt more pleasure.

#🍒 — let’s talk! #🍒 — william afton #william afton smut

[khalixvitae]

sorry to hear your shift was shit!! arghghg we all toil under the goochie grip of capitalism. i had an idea about rook and vil but it's in the book 6 settings and though it's not really relevant to the plot nor is it spoiler heavy, the initiation of the scenario does involve some context from the book and i dont know if you'd mind mild spoilers!! not to mention the og thought leans into nitty gritty smutty territory lmfao lols.... all rook stans are vil stans by proxy and both these blonds whisper terrible thoughts into my head every nite... other thoughts vil and rook using you as a lipstick sample tester with their new array of colours; can't have their colour looking less than flattering on you when they kiss you, right? vil will gracefully leave a peck on your lips, on your cheek, on your forehead, on your jaw, on your neck. if he isn't satisfied, he huffs and wipes it off with gentle ease. if he is, he smiles to himself with prideful satisfaction-- leaves the mark on, and reaches for another. rook thinks all the colours are absolutely magnificent on you! he's a little less dignified than vil in having his turn, but it's also very crucial to see how the swatch looks smudged against your lips ok. at the end of it you'll be looking like that "came home drunk last night and got way too excited to see my cat" picture except your whole face is marked with kiss stains. or vil having you substitute in as an actor and him slowly growing enamored with your innate beauty, both on the silver screen and just right infront of him. maybe he has rook as the photographer and he, too, falls madly in love with you. now you're the muse of two people who are very adamant on helping you to be the most radiant version of yourself and showing you just how brilliant you are now...

- the same balls 2 tha walls anon

This is literally so perfect, thank you for the food anon 😭😭😭. I just woke up and what a wonderful thing to see. Also, I’m about 2/3 of the way done with Book 6 for reference !

Oh to be a living lipstick swatch for Vil and Rook <3 also you’re so right about becoming a Stan of one by association with the other. I actually started out the other way around as a Vil Stan™️ out the gate in book 5, and by book 6 Rook fully sank his claws into my brain. Their insane levels of loyalty and responsibility, as well as their loves for their respective crafts made them so interesting to me. There’s actually a post somewhere on here that I made right when I started book 6 about how I didn’t give a fuck what Idia had going on, I just heard I got a kiss from Vil and I was gonna bulldoze my way thru for him haha. Andddd then I ended up REALLY caring what Idia had going on (I still wanted my kiss though hehe hoo). Whatever the Shrouds have going on should be studied by our nations brightest minds bc girl what the FUCK. Book 6 has been my fav part so far though- the mini game segments were so cool??? Like I loved that addition sm.

Anywho, yes in my mind palace I am romantically involved with both Rook and Vil, they are my strange and wonderful companions <3 also swatching lipsticks so he knows what color looks best when he kisses you is SO Vil, and thinking that every color looks beautiful in its own way is SO ROOK like oh my god 😭😭 the only thing that they can manage to agree on, their respective eccentricities aside, is that you look lovely covered in kisses.

Another thing: anon, what should I call you? Because reading your signature as soon as I woke up had disastrous results- I did read it as “the same balls anon”. Which you could be, if you so wish- if you don’t want to have a moniker at All ofc that’s fine too! Have a great day <3

#twisted wonderland #asks !! #twst #x reader #vil posting ！(◎_◎;) #vil schoenheit #rookism <3 #Rook Hunt

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Night 26: Bad Dream

''You'll stay alive, no need to cry. Baby, please come to me, it's only a bad dream. This, son, I vow, they can't hurt you now. So, please come back to me, it's only a bad dream.''

– Bad Dream by VideoGameRapBattles ft. Trickywi (Five Nights at Freddy's 4)

xXxXxXx

''This is crazy!''

Sam pointed her smartphone, which had the flashlight turned on, down at the hallway, noticing a limp figure sitting next to a white wooden door. She glanced at Springtrap, whose eyes were glowing purple. He nodded, his arms crossed on his back, with Sam deciding to approach the quite familiar figure.

It was a huge animatronic bunny, larger than Springtrap. The bunny was blue, with tears across his body and a gap in his torso, showing the endoskeleton. His five fingers were sharp, looking like claws and his open mouth showed rows of sharp teeth. Sam recognized the animatronic as Nightmare Bonnie. She turned back to Springtrap.

''He won't jumpscare me, right?'' she asked.

''No,'' Springtrap replied. ''Believe me, these animatronics aren't active anymore,… at least, unless someone tampered with them.''

Frowning, he walked over to her, observing Sam as she examined Nightmare Bonnie. The animatronic didn't activate even after Sam started poking him. She looked quite fascinated, with Springtap feeling satisfied about his idea of showing her this place. However, it was also rather dark and he figured that Sam might accidentally trip over something. There was a light switch somewhere, I believe.

''Wait here,'' he told her, with Sam nodding.

As he turned to search for the switch, he noticed her looking at the framed photos on the wall and on the table that was in the hallway. While those photos did show a family, Sam realized that they were actually the kind of generic photo samples you'd see at a professional photographer. In other words, they were just as fake as this house was. Suddenly, the lights started flickering and turning on. Sam saw Springtrap walking over to her, glancing at Nightmare Bonnie as he joined her.

''Are the other Nightmare Animatronics here as well?'' she asked him.

''Probably,'' Springtrap said, shrugging. ''While I've been at Circus Baby's to get some parts, I haven't been at this specific area for ages.''

''Or rather, since 1983,'' Sam said in a dry tone. Springtrap was slightly startled at first, but he then realized where this conversation would lead. He wasn't looking forward to it at all. On the other hand, he knew that he brought this upon himself. ''Say, how did you even manage to create this place? I mean, didn't someone notice a house-like area with nightmarish robots walking around?''

''Actually, it wasn't that hard. I just noted that I'd need a few extra room for storage, or rather, a testing area for newly constructed animatronics, and made sure it would be Inaccessible to everyone but myself. I mean, you had already seen that there are no obvious entrances,'' Springtrap explained Sam. ''Also, I believe that I had already told you that I made sure to keep people away from private areas.''

''What about the Nightmare Animatronics?'' Sam asked. ''Did anyone, aside from your family, even knew about them?''

''No, although, to be honest, I've been working on them alongside Circus Baby and the other Funtime Animatronics as a side project,'' Springtrap replied, crossing his arms and glancing at Nightmare Bonnie. ''I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with them at first, considering how Circus Baby was my main focus, although I did experiment with them a little, at least, until Lizzy's death… That's when I decided to give them an actual purpose.''

''Only for that to backfire spectaculary,'' Sam replied in a dry tone. ''Seriously, what were you even thinking?''

''I believe we had already established that I'm really good at making bad decisions, be it when alive or dead,'' Springtrap replied sarcastically, although Sam noticed that he looked quite troubled. She knew that he was well aware that the things he had done to his family were horrifying and feared that her questioning might cause him to break down again, but still, there was a reason why she continued to ask him questions about his past. Someone needed to confront him about what he had done, while also making sure that his side of the story would be heard. However, it wasn't less painful for both of them to go through this again.

''It doesn't make it less horrifying,'' Sam said in a quiet, serious tone. Springtrap's eyes glowed in a soft purple, with him looking crestfallen. He watched her as she went towards the bedroom with a cold, empty feeling spreading through his chest.

Sam knows almost everything about me, yet I still get this feeling whenever I talk to her about what I did. He frowned, feeling a little desperate. Why, whenever we start talking about my past, do I have a feeling that she would start to hate me, even though she showed that, while she despises who I have been, she cares about who I am now?

Still, it wasn't just his friendship with Sam that caused him to worry so much. It was also the fact that he had to deal with what he had done to his own family. He felt guilt and regret, and it was tearing him inside out.

Heavy-hearted, he went to the bedroom, noticing Sam looking at the camera in the corner of the room. She seemed to be mildly-curious about it, having already expected some kind of surveillance. Other than the camera, the room looked like any normal bedroom, although it was covered in a layer of dust.

''Say, have you checked under the bed or the closet for monsters?'' Springtrap asked Sam, feeling a little unnerved by her silence. She turned to him, smiling a little.

''Not yet,'' she replied. She then crouched, lifting the blanket to see whether there was indeed something under the bed. She then got up, dusting her knees and giving Springtrap a questioning look. ''Well, there's nothing under the bed. I thought I'd find Nightmare Freddy, or at least the Freddles there.''

''Actually, I saw Nightmare Freddy down the hallway when I searched for the light switch,'' Springtrap told her.

''Well, you could've told me that,'' Sam said, wondering how she managed to miss the animatronic, although, considering how dark it was and that she was focused on the hallway with Nightmare Bonnie, it shouldn't be surprising she didn't notice him. ''At least I hope that Nightmare Foxy is in the closet.''

She then walked over to the closet, opening it and finding the animatronic in question sitting on the floor. Just as Nightmare Bonnie, Nightmare Foxy looked like a more horrifying version of Foxy, with rows of sharp teeth, a torn muzzle and tears all over his body. Yet, Sam didn't look afraid of the animatronic, observing him curiously as she crouched next to him.

''You don't seem to be particularly disturbed by them,'' Springtrap told her.

''Well, when they're not coming after you, they don't seem to be that scary,'' Sam replied and stood up, her arms crossed. ''Speaking of which, I went through that 'scared-of-the-monster-in-the-closet' phase when I was a kid. Only that the monster that I was imagining was the Shadow Man, who would stare at me with his red eyes, waiting until I fall asleep so he could snatch me away.'' She noticed Springtrap giving her a questioning look. She shrugged. ''I was a weird kid who loved to read creepy stories and had a wild imagination.''

''However, you did stop believing that you were being hunted down by a demon, didn't you?'' Springtrap said, being genuinely interested in her story.

''I did, mostly because I realized that, even though there are some really creepy supernatural beings, in the end, humans are the real monsters,'' Sam replied, staring at him. Springtrap wasn't really sure whether she was angry at him or something like that, deciding to keep quiet. Sam closed the closet, walking over to the bed and moving away the Fredbear plushie, dusting of the blanket. ''You still haven't answered my question.'' She glanced at him and noticed the confused look on his expression. ''What were you even thinking by creating those animatronics? I know that people make bad choices, but the decisions you made can hardly be justified by any kind of excuse.''

''I know,'' Springtrap said, sighing as he sat down on the bed. Sam sat next to him, with Springtrap refusing to look at her. He was just staring at the floor.

''Will, could you please tell me what happened?''

Springtrap narrowed his eyes, which were glowing in a soft purple. However, he didn't feel any aggression. Instead, he just felt empty. He closed his eyes.

How should I explain what had happened? It was a complete chaos… There was so much blood. Nobody knew, except for me…

He vividly remembered the moment he saw Circus Baby's torso opening and showing him the mangled body of his own daughter. Blood was dripping down his arms as he tried to get her out, shocked by what had happened.

I told her to not approach Circus Baby! I told her to not go there!

He felt desperate, knowing that he was too late. Thanks to his own creation, Elizabeth died. Thanks to his own mistakes, he lost another member of his family. However, instead of stopping and trying to make things right, he just carried on with his plans. He had already passed the point of no return.

''After Elizabeth died, I had realized that I needed to keep Sammy and Michael away from the animatronics. I couldn't keep an eye on them, and while Michael seemed to have slowly lost interest in the animatronics, Sammy didn't. I knew that I needed to something about that,'' Springtrap frowned, opening his eyes. ''I figured that, if he was afraid of the animatronics, he'd stay away from them.''

''So, you left him here alone, forcing him to play a game with those Nightmare Animatronics for an entire night?'' Sam said coldly. Springtrap clenched his fist, his vision briefly covered in static, only to see a bunch of monitors in front of him, as well as a little, golden teddy bear with a purple top hat and bowtie, and a walkie-talkie.

''No…'' he told her. ''I didn't leave him here for an entire night. I rigged the alarm clock, so it would seem that a lot more time passed then it actually did.'' He then glanced at the Fredbear plushie that was leaned against the pillow and picked it up. ''He wasn't alone either. I was always there, watching him and making sure that he won't get harmed.''

''Even if you did watch over him and even if he didn't get hurt, he still ended up completely traumatized!'' Sam rose her voice, glaring at him. ''William, he was afraid and crying, and you didn't care! You scarred him for life!''

''I know… and I regret it…'' Springtrap said in a quiet tone. His head was lowered, so Sam couldn't see his expression. He was clutching the Fredbear plushie, shaking.

''Will?''

''I-I…'' Springtrap's grip on the Fredbear plushie tightened. He glanced at Sam, who noticed traces of blood in the corner of his eyes. ''I'm sorry…'' He looked away. ''I… I wish that none of this had ever happened, but there's nothing that can be done now. There's no way to change the past.''

The two sat in silence, with Sam feeling a little torn about confronting him with what he had done and comforting him. After all, he didn't deserve any sympathy. He didn't deserve redemption either. Still, he admitted that what he had done was incredibly messed up and he payed for it. He wanted to atone, feeling remorseful about his past.

''What happened to Sammy?'' Sam asked in a quiet tone, not really expecting an answer. She had already asked him this before and he told her what happened, but she still felt that here was more to it than he wanted to admit.

Springtrap frowned, remembering that day. People were screaming, both adults and children, horrified to see what had happened. Michael was devastated, repeating over and over again how he didn't mean it to happen and that it was supposed to be just a prank. All he saw was a little boy, whose head was stuck in Fredbear's jaws, with blood dripping down the costume and on the floor. The boy was limp, completely lifeless.

I wish it was just a nightmare. But, it was real… It was horrifying.

''After Michael's prank, I was told at the hospital that Sam might never wake up again, and he didn't. He died after a while and I was unable to do anything about it. Michael was completely devastated about what he had done. First, he had lost his sister, and now his brother was gone as well,'' Springtrap explained, his eyes glowing again. ''Michael never knew why Sammy was so afraid of the animatronics, at least until I showed him this area. I was incredibly furious at him and I wanted to teach him a lesson.''

''I guess that you succeeded,'' Sam said. ''Sammy wasn't probably the only one who suffered from nightmares. Considering how spirits tend to linger, I can only assume that, even if Sammy didn't end up being trapped, he could've tortured his older brother by replaying his experiences with the Nightmare Animatronics.''

''I don't think that that matters anymore,'' Springtrap told her. ''Even though Michael was responsible for Sammy's death, in the end, it is my fault for letting it happen. I know I could've somehow prevented it, and I didn't.''

He stood up, with Sam looking surprised,

''Where are you going?'' she asked.

''Don't worry, I'll be here. I just need to clear my mind,'' Springtrap replied, lowering his head. He then walked out of the room. Sam sighed, picking up the Fredbear plushie Springtrap had left and looking at it.

She wished that she never had brought up the events that tore William's family apart.

xXx

Heavy black clouds passed, darkening the sky as Connor entered the factory. He wanted to check on the animatronics before he went to work.

''I don't think we should believe the rumors, even though they are quite interesting.''

''I do believe them.''

''Seriously? I don't think that the stories are true.''

As he walked through the building, Connor recalled his conversations with Bran, trying to remember what his old partner told him about Freddy's. They had been talking about the restaurant's past, about the missing children and the haunted animatronics. Different than Connor, Bran had never believed that it was possible for an animatronic to become haunted, but he would still talk about it. He seemed to be quite fascinated by that idea, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

''Imagine creating your own haunted animatronic.''

''We could do that, Bran. We could use one of the animatronics they made for Ricky's Wonder Shack.''

''You can't be serious, right?''

He could still remember the incredulous look Bran gave him.

''Don't worry, I was just joking.''

He hoped that Bran would understand. After all, they were close friends and shared similar interests. Connor could still remember how Bran helped him when he went through a rough time in his life, never leaving his side. He was quite glad to have someone he could count on.

As he entered the rooms with the animatronics parts and endoskeletons, he saw that everything was in order, just the way he left it. The animatronics he was working on were unfinished, but there were still a few things he needed to work out before putting them together. He still had trouble forcing Ricky and his friends to obey him, as the animatronic AI would override the device he put in. He needed to find a way to make it work.

He entered the last room, the one with Raven. The animatronic was sitting on the ground, limp and lifeless. However, Connor knew that that wasn't true. He knew that Bran's soul was tied to Raven, meaning that he was alive, albeit in a quite twisted way. However, this also meant that his friend would never leave him. He would stay by Connor's side, forever.

''We both should be thankful for that accident, Bran,'' Connor said as he crouched in front of Raven. He frowned at the lack of response. ''Still, I need to figure out how to exactly repeat my success. You do understand that, don't you? After all, you have been the only one who ever understood me.''

He stood up, looking at the Raven for a moment. He then sighed, turning around and leaving, only to suddenly hear the animatronic activating. He turned back, smiling as he saw Raven trashing around.

''Just what I expected…'' he muttered. ''We're together in this, aren't we?''

He then walked away, closing the door behind him. Raven only started to trash more as he was left in the darkness once again.

xXx

Springtrap was roaming through the hallways of Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental, lost in his thoughts. Sam had asked him to show her the rest of the place, with him leading her to the Ballora Gallery which had a hidden door that led to a small area. This part of the location consisted of a hallway with four rooms, a white chair and Plushtrap sitting on that chair. He left her there to explore, not really willing to talk to her. She also kept quiet, with Springtrap wondering whether she feared that continuing the conversation about his past might result in him having another mental breakdown. Considering how that would happen whenever he was at his lowest point, he wasn't surprised that she didn't want to press the issue.

However, even though he felt uncomfortable talking about what he had done, those conversations did help him in a way. Springtrap knew that, as much as he would lament over Elizabeth's and Sammy's death, wishing to change what happened in the past, he couldn't do anything about it. Nothing could bring them back. He knew that, if he stayed stuck in the past, he would never be able to move on, just like that Entity that was haunting him.

Still, what was he supposed to do? Whenever he hoped that he would make some kind of progress, something would happen that would cause him to revert back to his previous mindset. He resented the feeling of fear and dread that accompanied him whenever he decided to do something that would improve his situation, aware that it would somehow backfire. Even worse, his decisions would also directly or indirectly influence Sam, leading to her getting harmed in some way.

He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to prevent Sam having to experience the same fate his family, or rather, anyone connected to him had experienced. He wanted to protect her without having to leave, even though it was obvious that she'd be better off without him. At least, that's how he felt.

Springtrap suddenly found himself unintentionally walking back into the area with the Nightmare Animatronics, entering the bedroom. He frowned, staring back at the camera he had installed in order to monitor Sammy. A part of him, the one who hated his past self, wanted to rip that camera off and destroy it. It was just another reminder of how much of a monster he was.

He sighed, sitting down on the bed and clutching his head. Hell, this whole place was a remained of how much of a monster he was and that, no matter what he would do, this monster wouldn't cease to exist.

Everything that happened, it just feels like a bad dream…

As he tried to calm himself down, he glanced at the drawer next to the closet. Curious, he walked over to it, having already forgotten whether he ever put anything inside it. As he opened it, he was a little surprised to see that there were plushies inside it. He picked up the Freddy plushie, staring at it.

Sammy loved those toys…

He frowned and was about to put them back away, when he glanced back at the bed, at the Fredbear plushie that was left there. Hesitant, he glanced back at the toy he held, then walked over to the bed and left the Freddy plushie next to the Fredbear one. He then went back, taking out the other plush toys and placing them on the bed.

He managed to find Bonnie, Chica and Foxy, and when he reached for the last toy that was hastily placed in the drawer, he realized that it was a golden version of Bonnie wearing a purple bowtie – Spring Bonnie. He held the plushie, a little surprised to find it. He was quite sure that, after the retirement of the Spring Bonnie animatronic, there wouldn't be any toys either. It seemed that one survived. He glanced back at the bed, where he left the other toys.

Nobody needs them anymore… His eyes glowed in a soft purple. Sammy, Elizabeth and Michael are gone, but there's still someone left. Sam would be happy to have them.

He felt warmth spreading across the chest, replacing the emptiness as he thought about Sam reaction to his little gift. It didn't seem like it was much, but he was willing to do anything to make her happy.

''Springtrap?'' He could hear Sam calling him, her voice getting louder.

''Over here!''

Sam hurried up after hearing Springtrap's voice, entering the bedroom. She was worried about him, considering how quiet he was after their last conversation. She figured that leaving him alone for a while would be a good thing, but after she realized that he was gone, she knew that she had to find him.

''Are you okay?'' she asked him.

Springtrap was reluctant, wanting to tell her not to worry about him, but he then shook his head. I told her that I wanted her to be honest with me about how she felt and I shouldn't be lying to her either.

''No, I'm not,'' he replied, noticing the look of concern on her expression. ''However, we can talk about this later. There is actually something I wanted to show you first.''

He then gave her the Spring Bonnie plushie. Sam's eyes widened in surprise as she took it, grinning as she looked at it.

''You can keep it if you want,'' Springtrap told her, then gestured at the bed with the other plushies. ''If you don't want it, you can take-''

He was cut off mid-sentence when Sam suddenly hugged him.

''Thank you,'' she said, her eyes bright with joy. Springtrap was glad to see her like this, but he felt that there were still some things left unsaid. Sam stepped back, looking a little worried. ''You said that there was an issue, right? What is it? Did I say something wrong?''

''No, you didn't,'' Springtrap replied in a comforting tone. ''However, this doesn't mean that I didn't reflect on what you told me.''

''So, what's bothering you?'' Sam asked, giving him a curious look. Springtrap's eyes glowed purple as he stepped back, crossing his arms on his back, and tilted his head.

''What I have done is unforgivable, and what happened here was a complete nightmare. Even if I am uncomfortable talking about my past, I am thankful that you're constantly confronting me about what I had done. After all, trying to ignore and forget what had happened obviously won't help me,'' Springtrap told her. ''However, I cannot go back in time and fix my mistakes either. I cannot undo Elizabeth, Sammy and Michael's deaths. This leaves me with two options. Either I can let myself get consumed by guilt, or I can try and make sure I won't make the same mistakes again.''

''Well, I am glad that you think so,'' Sam replied, only to be surprised when Springtrap's eyes suddenly flared purple. He frowned.

''You know, even though I did destroy the remnant, I don't think that it really changed anything,'' he said. ''I am still the same person I was before.''

''Nevertheless, you still decided, on your own, that you want to destroy it instead of saving it,'' Sam pointed out.

''True, but I also told you that I'm capable of creating new remnant. There's nothing that can stop me from doing that,'' Springtrap replied.

''I know, but you also said that you won't do that,'' Sam said, suddenly realizing what he wanted to tell her. ''I made a mistake at some point while talking to you about it, didn't I?'' Springtrap nodded. She sighed. ''Honestly, I forget sometimes that your situation isn't some kind of clean slate and that you cannot separate yourself from the man you have been before your final death, even if I do acknowledge it.''

''Exactly, although, I don't believe either of us ignored that issue on purpose,'' Springtrap replied. ''I was just stuck in the past, believing that there's nothing I could do about who I am, while you tried to encourage me to learn from my mistakes and become a better person, noting that, while I have been a monster in the past, it doesn't mean that I'm a monster now.''

''So, what are you planning to do now?'' Sam asked him. Springtrap grinned.

''The nightmare continues. After all, I am still a murderer and a danger to people,'' he said ominously. He then frowned, the glow in his eyes slowly fading. ''I do regret my past, and I know I cannot change what I had done, but I also know I shouldn't constantly ask myself what would've happened if I didn't go down that murderous path. Honestly, I don't expect redemption, regardless of whether I deserved it or not.'' He tilted his head, looking at Sam. ''As I had already told you, all I want is to be your friend. However, I'll leave it up to you whether you want to keep me as your friend.''

''Of course I want you to be my friend,'' Sam said, interrupting him. Springtrap nodded.

''Then, I will keep you entertained,'' he said, falling silent. ''There's one more thing, though…''

''What is it?'' Sam asked. Springtrap shook his head.

''It's nothing important,'' he said. ''You don't have to worry about it.''

''Are you sure?'' Sam rose an eyebrow.

''Yes, I am,'' Springtrap replied. ''Anyways, do you want to take the other plushies?''

''Sure!'' Sam nodded, only to look at the closet. ''But, what about the Nightmare Animatronics?''

''We'll leave them here. I doubt that anyone will find them,'' Springtrap said. Sam gave him a curious look.

''Do you have any plans for them?'' she asked.

''I don't have any plans, at least for now,'' Springtrap replied. ''However, rest assured, this isn't the last time we're visiting this place. I'm not going to let the animatronics to just rust here.''

He wanted to help her carry the plushies out, but Sam insisted on taking them all by herself, only for the Fredbear plushie to fall out of her arms. Springtrap picked it up.

''You can go on,'' he said. ''I'll just turn the lights off here.''

''Okay,'' Sam replied, hurrying down the corridor. Springtrap took another look at the bedroom, a mix of regret and sorrow on his expression. He then frowned.

They're gone and I cannot do anything about it anymore. Still, this doesn't mean that I should forget what happened and why it happened.

He closed the door and walked down the corridor, avoiding Nightmare Bonnie. He then went to the light switch.

I was horrible father towards Lizzy, Sammy and Mike, and hopefully, they're better off now. They deserved a much better life, a better family, than the one I gave them.

He turned the lights off, finding himself surrounded by darkness and walking towards the entrance to this area.

Still, even if I did accept who I was, or rather, who I am now, this doesn't mean that I should go back to my old habits. What I do now is my decision and I'm not going to waste the chance I had been given.

After closing the entrance and placing the boxes back, Springtrap went towards the Funtime Auditorium, finding Sam on the stage, who was trying to put all of the plushies into her backpack. He gave her the Fredbear plushie.

''Don't forget this one,'' he said, with Sam taking it, nodding and then trying to figure out how to somehow cram the toy into her already full backpack. Springtrap glanced at the box next to the stage, realizing that he had forgot to put it into the private room. ''I'll be right back.''

''Take your time,'' Sam replied, still focused on her backpack. He went to the box and picked it up, taking it towards the office. Just like the other one, this box also contained the dismantled remains of the Funtime Animatronics, with him and Sam having picked up everything they could find. Once inside, he pushed the box under the table and stopped, looking at his old office. Feeling curious, he reached for the drawer and found an old walkie-talkie inside it. He snorted, taking it out.

I guess some old habits never die.

He clutched the walkie-talkie in his hand, taking one last glance at the monitors, noticing his own reflection. His eyes glowed briefly, with him feeling some of his confidence returning.

Does it really matter whether I have changed or not? I am still the same person, but with a different outlook on life. I am not going to make the same mistakes again.

He then walked out, closing the door behind him. He was joined by Sam, who was ready to leave, having managed to stuff all the toys into her backpack.

''I'll just go and check whether everything is turned off,'' he told her. ''I'll meet you at the elevator, okay?''

''Sure. I need to give Mum a call anyways so she can pick us up,'' Sam replied, albeit giving him a knowing look. Springtrap had a feeling that she somehow knew what was going through his head, but she still decided to let him to deal with it on his own, even though he didn't tell her anything. Not to mention, there wasn't anything he needed to check on as the whole place had been shut down, except for the lights. He sighed.

In truth, what he really needed was to be alone for a moment.

''I know that you cannot hear me anymore, and that we probably will never meet again, but there are still some things I wished I had said before all of this had happened,'' he said in a quiet tone. Static flashed in front of his eyes, but he didn't really react to it, feeling empty. What he saw were just memories.

One of them was of his daughter, smiling happily as she showed him a drawing she made. All she wanted was her father's approval.

''Elizabeth,'' he muttered. ''I was always proud of you, and I hate myself for what I did to you. Now, you don't have to suffer anymore.''

He glanced at the private room, remembering how he observed Sammy trying to fend off the Nightmare Animatronics. Even though he was incredibly scared of them and even crying, he still managed to keep them away, having quickly figured out their patterns. However, he was left scarred for the rest of his life, and even that ended too soon.

''Sammy, I'm sorry for putting you through those nightmares and for not being able to help you when you needed my help. Hopefully, you won't have any bad dreams anymore.''

Turning to the scooper room, he frowned, remembering the rage he felt as he confronted Michael, who was remorseful about what he had done to his little brother. Even though his oldest son was a bully who killed his own brother, having his insides scooped and turned into an undead corpse was still a cruel fate.

''Michael, you've done well,'' he said. ''You're much better person than I am, and I do hope you have finally found the peace you deserved.''

He lowered his head, with sorrow showing on his expression. He never knew how much he had lost until now.

''I'm sorry I couldn't be a better father…''

He stood there in silence, almost expecting an answer, but there was none. He knew that it was time to leave. Still lost in his thoughts, he turned the lights off and joined Sam at the elevator, noticing the look of sympathy she gave him. The feeling of emptiness faded, replaced by the familiar feeling of warmth and comfort.

Perhaps, I didn't lose everything.

''Are you okay?'' Sam asked him.

''Not really, but I do feel better,'' he told her.

''That's good to know,'' Sam said. ''Speaking of which, surprisingly, nothing bad really happened today. I mean, there were no accidents.''

''Sam, don't jinx it. The day isn't over yet,'' Springtrap replied, frowning. The elevator opened, with the two walking towards the entrance.

''Well, I'm just saying…'' Sam replied, trailing off as they opened the door and realized that it was raining outside. Springtrap simply gave her an annoyed look, with Sam smiling sheepishly. ''Maybe I spoke too soon.''

''You think?''

Links:

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#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story #Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged #william afton #springtrap #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf 4 #five nights at freddy's 4 #nightmare animatronics #nightmare freddy #nightmare bonnie #nightmare chica #nightmare foxy #nightmare fredbear #plushtrap

[lixxen]

A few days ago I was playing around with this picrew and decided to make a silly Spider-Man who I had scrapped for my original spidersona in 2018 because his whole schtick was too close to Miguel (in a few ways) and I didn't want to seem unoriginal

But y'know. No idea is original in the end. So here's my third Spider-Man character

This is Weaver.

(story UTC)

He's was once 24 year old investigative reporter at the Daily Bugel with Eddie Brock. He was paired with Peter Parker, who photographed for Weaver.

Peter was on track for being Spider-Man, his pre-bite canon events on track and everything. The two went to OsCorp for the bite, but Weaver saw the spider and killed it before it could bite Peter. The two made a joke about how freaky it looked before moving on.

The two broke off and Weaver found the room with all of the different experimented on spiders. He spots a locked darm room in the back and picks the lock. He walks in and hears noises.

Flipping on the light, he sees a large spider standing above him. He freaks out and it bites him, paralyzing him and wrapping him up to eat later. The spider tucks him under the web sack (where the other spiders are coming from) and leaves him. She promptly forgets about him and eventually his cocoon is absorbed by the eggsack.

A few months later, when the sack hatches, Weaver crawls out with the baby spiders. His eyes are now black and he gained two more. His canines are now sharp and there's double of them. He has zero memories of how he got there and why he is like this.

The scientists enter the room to check on them and freak out when they find him. Just as panicked, Weaver makes a break for it and escapes.

He finds out that he has natural web shooters in his wrists and can stick to walls with his hands and feet. His nails are like claws and he uses them as such; they're more durable now. He can see very well in the dark and his senses are maxed out.

He steals clothing and food from different shops before hiding away in an abandoned building. From there, he lives off of stealing food and items; trading the items to villains and other heroes for things to keep him alive.

After a few months, the city realizes that he's just a scared young adult who doesn't know what's going on and they start to feed him. They leave out food and treat him with caution. He doesn't speak to them, but he shows his appreciation.

Peter ends up receiving Venom, which isn't good at first. But after running into Weaver the two start to slowly get along begrudgingly. They look after NYC and manage Weaver. Peter doesn't know if Weaver is his missing coworker, but he has a feeling he is.

He is named Weaver by the people due to the giant webs he will make throughout the city. They genuinely do treat him like a pet, even if he is a person who can think for himself just fine. It is perpetuated by how he acts.

He does speak some, but his throat hurts so he normally doesn't. Peter gets to hear it sometimes and he never pushes him.

It is joked that he's NYC's pet, the creature that they all feed and look after and he kind of chases off new villains. He doesn't mind some of the current ones but he will attack new ones.

Pre-cocoon Weaver!!

#spider man across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spidersona #spiderman oc #oc

[ennaku-sirri-da]

My Best Friend is dead. Her name ...was MARTHA. She resides in the bathroom now, but I'm still trying to make her smile. [ Part 2 ] [ INVESTIGATIONS....START!!!]

( Plaintext: My Best Friend is dead. Her name ...was MARTHA. She resides in the bathroom now, but I'm still trying to make her smile. [ Part 2 ] [ Investigations....start!!!] )

Habit is pretty new around here, but if he can't find a single friend then God help him he is going to make the ghost in the bathroom who may-or-may not-exist-but-hopefully-its-a-may-- his friend. Now if only he had any idea where to start?!?!

--

Well, she's fading in relevance, but some rumors still stick- that is atleast a place to start with.....

TO THE DRAMA TUNNEL!!!

( Wanna clarify this is NOT actually drama he's going there for though, that's just what the majority of the place harbours. I guess this particular use is like...more of...Information-Hole??)

[ GIF description: Pinkie Pie from MLP FIM uses a attached slide and somehow slides up and out of an underground lair where she prepares for parties with a variety of party items and folders on everyone's likes and dislikes. End GIF description]

That's right. You heard me, bozo. Habit has a secret underground cave under the angel statue at the forefront of his school full of folders on every single person only used for the V.V.V. Important Purposes Vital For Survival. Such as catty gossip that can be used against you later. He hasn't really told Kamal about it truthfully because he'd never let that fly HQKJSJSK

But sometimes when they're talking after being out of their respective schools he TRIES anyway. Getting really close and whispering conspirationally.

'' So I heared his moms gettin' die-vorced...''

( habitspeak translation: So I heard his moms gettin' divorced...)

''HAHA YES AMAZING''

Sorry guys, Kamal is also trying, but just to keep his cool. The times when he does tolerate enough to give some gossiping ground. Still though, brotato, personal space.....😳😖( blushing emoji and closed-eye agitated emoji )

HOWEVER. He simply won't entertain the idea of this fanciful ghost-hunt his friends picked up and the associated taperecorded interviews, derelict dental records(???), old newspapers, photographs, impromptu questioning around the neighbourhood, bake sales for means to obtain said-newspapers, urban legend discussion printouts, breaking n entering into school offices at 3 AM ... Holy DUCKNUGGETS. Chill out big time, saaley. Don't fuck around and find out with what we don't know, yeah? He's mildly superstitious( despite liking to think himself more rational than that) so he's really uncomfortable with Habit mentioning it.

>POV: your just the janitor in the basement to grab your dust pan but Habit is Happening

[ ID: Meme of a guy with a vast number of papers and red tape stuck together on the wall like a stereotypical conspiracy theorist. He is explaining them raptly with wildly serious looking eyes. End ID]

So, um. Habit gets more huffy around him about that But he Keeps Going Anyway. And getting into more trouble with everyone as usual.

Guys, I NEED you to know I'm TOTALLY imagining a musical sequence where Habit's going through his All Saints High school and EVERYONE'S LIKE....

[ Video Thumbnail ID: A painterly style illustration of the three musicians performing " We Don't Talk About Bruno...But It's Cursed" in the style of the Madrigal family members, but ominously done in glowing greens and bright reds. The title text is in the same colors and has a roughened look. Their eyes all glow green and the man in the middle has rats on him in an imitation of Camilo Madrigal. All of them are posed like they're telling a sinister story, clawing their hands and grinning in an unhinged manner. End ID]

" WE DONT TALK ABOUT MARTHA "

( plaintext: "We don't talk about Martha" )

Of COURSE it would not be like, the exact same bcuz different context. But just the general vibe of someone's real self faded into increasingly contrived stories, the implication that meeting with this person is a portent of bad luck, danger and possibly death itself and an enforced silence on events. And the protagonist wanting to unveil the truth.

Oh and! I particularly took a Catholic school for Habit to go to( it wasn't his choice, Father sent him off ) because of that one line he drops in a PSA " hate the sin love the sinner" I think, which I've most frequently heard around(not personally) as like. An anti LGBT sentiment from Christians. It was jarring to hear in the game, but worked to effect. And also Martha and Habit's story sprung from this one particular song that was sent to me, plus Catholic schools are some of the largest spread in the US, admitting non Catholic students as well. His own family would probably follow a different Russian Orthodox tradition though.

--

Well, what's happening on the B side?

Martha is quite, quite highly amused.

( Also perhaps holding an little flicker of hope, cuz it's like. People who do not fully believe in her cannot see her no-matter-what,

as she found out when she was newly-awakened and tried to go about school as usual

[ Gif description : An animated sequence from the Katawa Shoujo visual novel where Hanako looks on in confusion while students zip past her impossibly fast, their faces and figures blurring. Only one other person stands without moving. It generally represents the feeling of the world leaving Hanako behind. End ID]

<Yup. Kinda traumatizing. Stuff like this is why she prefers to stay stall-confined self-exiled most of the time.>

and also she has to reveal herself voluntarily. She's not shown herself, but he clearly does believe....)

She's like " Woah. DOLLY : O (open mouth emote)" HSJDJDJ A big, walking, talking one. Which he is. It just particularly endears her because she used to have a hobby of collecting them, finding out about their histories and stuff. When she was alive she eventually stopped talking about it because some people would find it embarrassing. Still carries that shame, but hey, there's no soul around to see right now.

Follows him around sometimes, even. Walking in front, clutching the walls above, at his shoulder.

Judgementally spectating him getting into another fight come-to-blows by virtue of his incredibly short-fuse especially with assholes( Hes uh. Stressed. To say the least.) . Only she likes to pretend he's actually following her by walking in front of him all-proud by vaguely predicting which direction he's taking. Actually he doesn't even see her there, but that just reduces any pesky possible arguements, right? Playing pretend is so much better. Few regrets. Like how he has to usually stitch his wounds up himself 'cause skin-bandages feel gross on the fur and don't do much. She could probably do that for him, and better!!! Without all the shaking and sniffling.

That is of course all a big IF. Habit's skyrocketed to the exact sort of notoriety she has spent so many years averting for herself, in like, record time. In a strange turn of events--- this kind of reputation making it hard for him to keep n' make new friends who don't slip through his paws like wilted petals-- has led him to.....someone who would under more non-time displaced circumstances...would NEVER be his friend. No matter how much she both admires and envies his loudly bold, curious and creative side coming through in times like how he touts around and takes apart the one Mecha Jesus Transformer ( from Kamal) with a whole backstory he's made up with his, apparently one friend, now. Or when he refuses to follow taken-for-granted rules without reason( like she couldn't bring herself to). But now, there's no one around to see......

Still, old habits die hard. Even when you're already dead in the ground. So she hesitates...and hesitates some more. Teetering on the edge of an afterlife-changing desicion.

But once...

It's just a regular bathroom visit. Open the door, check for other people, run inside. Regular running away from everyone, letting perenially red eyes run redder when for all the high-achieving to not make anyone mad still the teachers didn't know what to make of him. Running over chipped molars in the mirror-reflection for far too long, the usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, not the cursing God, not the attempts in the stall to muffle his noise lest passing janitors hear, not the barely contained scream, not in-the-end when it all thankfully stops and he slumps down on the closed seat, exhausted.

And then he says something. New.

"I wish ..someone would miss me if I was gone."

Unfortunately this time Habit can't contain the part-excited and part-terrified scream hoarsely ripping from him when all his researching becomes reality.

[ Gif description: Animated cutscene from the Faith games in its signature usually colored-outline, black fill-in, rotoscoped cutscenes. Amy Martin rises up from the edge of the beds end, hands first and then up to her head covered by long hair. There's a slight glitching distortion. End description]

SHE IS HERE.

( Plaintext: She Is Here.)

#WOW LEGITIMATELY TOOK LIKE . 4 HOURS???? #PLEASE REBAGEL IF U LIKE MY BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS AKA ASS BUSTING WORK #I uh. get distracted a lot CRIES #BUT GOD!! FINALLY #martha #martha s4m #dr habit #s4m #horror #gif #death tw #since shes like a ghost n also died pretty gruesomely #smile for me game #fanfic #roseverse #au #s4m au #my headcanons #headcanons #kamal bora #(mentioned) #ill tag religion from now on as well #religion #paranormal #homophobia tw #for that one quoted line #im SLEEPIN #murder tw

[frecklystars]

Insomnia doodles... I miss sleeping :’)

#lil doodles #woof #blaemire blogging #KINDA? #i went onto his twitter awhile back #and he had a dogfight gif as a reaction image #and i was like. that looks. exactly. like. the one i made #maybe its just a coincidence but......... bro #the seconds and frame size and everything were the EXACT same #now im listening to castaway by 5sos and thinking of megatron #LIKE SOME SORT OF PINING FOOL #i just like the idea of him clawing at the photographs on the walls #he's hyped on dark energon and there's flames bursting out of his chassis #and he's yelling out in complete emotional agony... yes. i want this #is it for my au?? or is it just for my rewritten universe where my s/i is present? #who knows. not me. i dont knows. #i can literally hear my heart beating thru my ears #im gonna go drive and blast music super loud and then get a sandwich

[whaleofatjme1920]

In the Tent, Under His Arms (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: literally just smut, knotted dick, breeding kink kinda?, possessive, I feel like EJ is his own warning, dubcon, rough, degrading(?), slight praise, if you are a minor DNI]

[AN: this thing is 8K words so have fun. Ngl, I had a lot of inspiration from the Wolf Man from Darkwood, so like,,,,,, that's gonna show up here as influence srry. ily <3]

To say you are nervous as you traverse the woods was an understatement. You could hardly breathe as you quietly stepped through the darkness that curtained the forest around you. Small little mushrooms and pieces of paper dotted your way as you continued to shine your flashlight at the deer path before you. Branches seemed to spring out from tree trunks in the blink of an eye scratched at your clothes as you pushed yourself forward. Every little sound that didn’t emit from you set you on edge.

How the hell did you even get here? You woke up on the floor of a rundown house. Cold tile had been your mattress as you slowly found your bearings. A quick glance around the darkened room showed a barren room, its walls littered with papers worried about a tall man in the woods. The only warnings were to watch out for him, fear him and not get caught by him lest you be taken. But you were still confused, scared and unsure.

Instead, you found yourself doing the only thing you could really think of. Securing your safety. This went on for a week without a hitch (save for the odd faces that peered into the windows every now and then) until one fateful morning where you were greeted by the only sentient living being that wished to talk to you since… Well… Since before you ended up here.

You had taken up refuge in a closet for the night and after stretching, headed to the kitchen to make something when you were rudely greeted to a… man?

Leaning against your counter drinking some coffee he’s already brewed.

You were about to rush back to your closet and pick up your blade when the man lowly chuckled.

A deep silence fell between the two of you as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. From the silence came low, rumbling, almost animalistic breathing.

It was then that you finally got a clear view of who was leaning in your kitchen. You grounded yourself in the doorway, not budging as the man slowly sipped from the coffee mug. You took notice of what he was wearing as he did so - a big, dark blue hoodie, and on top of that, a big, brown jacket. He had worn blue jeans. Steel toe boots.

The most unsettling parts of it all?

He had ashy, grey skin. From his profile, you could see shark-like teeth, grinning at you like a wolf.

“It’s really rude to stare, sweetheart,” the grey skinned man interrupted before taking another languid sip. “Have some coffee. I went outta my way to get it for you,” he finished before you could even begin to register what he was saying.

You awkwardly looked off to the side as words failed to build in your mouth. However, your mind continued to race with thoughts.

The grey skinned man verbally rolled his eyes with a huff before placing his mug down. Then, he quickly turned himself around and opened up one of the cabinets, fished for a mug, settled on a slightly chipped white one, inspected it, then placed it on the counter beside his. His clawed hand reached for the pot of coffee and grasped it before pouring the pleasantly warm and aromatic liquid into the slight chipped mug.

“Here,” he hummed as he held out the mug to the still frozen in place you. “Before it gets cold.”

You felt immediate disgust but hit it from your face as you cautiously stepped forward.

Sighing deeply, he closed the space between the two of you by taking confident steps forward.

On instinct, you held your hands out and took the mug.

He smiled in approval before leaning back on the counter to drink from his mug. “Sorry about the lack of sugar and creamer,” he said in passing as he watched you take a slow, shy sip. “You’ve seen the state of things out there, haven’t you? Can’t find shit even if I tried.”

Upon deeming the drink not poisonous and not harmful to your wellbeing, you felt more at ease and took more confident sips. “Who are you?” You asked, effectively breaking the semi-comfortable silence.

“A medic in some circles, a trader in others,” he began, flashing his rows of pearly white sharp teeth. “Call me Jack.” His gaze then lowered, eyes still obscured by his hood. “And what about you, sweetheart? How did you find yourself in this wicked place?”

You shifted uncomfortably before leaning in the doorway and taking another sip from the mug. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “I woke up here,” you gestured to the cold, checkered tile the two of you were currently standing on, “and got to work,” you finished. Your eyes remained trained on the floor. You remembered the first few days you were here - how awkward and strange they were. The feelings of confusion and anger. Stumbling around in the dark.

Jack nodded thoughtfully at your words before he finished his mug in one big gulp. He then smirked at you, the corners of his lip tilting upwards before he began stalking towards you.

Instinctively, you backed up, ready to defend yourself.

Jack chuckled under his breath. He smelled of wet soil and pine. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as he stopped just an arm’s distance in front of you. He looked down at you, his eyes still observed by the darkness as you struggled to see what he looked like. His clawed hand suddenly reached out, and you flinched. He grinned, and took his lifted hand to hold your chin before slowly tilting your gaze upwards to meet his in full. “Let me get a good look at those pretty eyes,” he murmured.

And that when you saw his, or rather, the lack of. Just empty caverns. Dark, soulless, but they looked at you with such hunger.

Jack watched your pretty eyes flutter, mostly in nervousness before he leaned down. His sockets bore into you. His other hand left his coat pocket to your face, clawed came closer and closer to your eyes making you scrunch your nose. “Find me in the burnt clearing. I’ll be waiting for you.” His index finger came up to the bridge of your nose and slid down it. He chuckled at your confused expression before he tapped your nose.

When you reopened your eyes, he was gone.

You spent a few days wondering if you should go or if it was a trap. There was really no one to ask and the faces that peered into your window didn’t seem to give an answer one way or another. Your gut, however, kept telling you it was a bad idea.

That was what you were sticking with: it’s a bad idea, you shouldn’t go.

So, why were you stumbling through the woods near sundown looking for him? It was stupid, you thought, that you could be walking into your death. You quickly slashed through the brambles until you made your way to a small clearing. A light shined in the short distance when it wasn’t obscured by rapidly growing branches. A quick glance down at your map showed that this was the eyeless man’s camp.

Your fingers tightened around your blade as you left the heavy foliage to inspect the camp. There was a sizable tent followed by various crates strewn about. In the center was a fire pit and across from it was a worn down green couch. How did that even get in here?

You carefully came closer to the roaring fire with timid steps while trying to calm down your breathing. A quick glance around and there was nothing but silence to accompany you as the sun sunk further and further down the horizon. You let your guard drop for just a moment before prickling back to attention. A presence behind you made you swivel, lurch and raise your blade faster than what you were capable of.

“Took you long enough. You do know that it’s rude to keep people waiting, don’t you?” Jack states with a small frown before bursting into a fit of laughter at the sound of your still drumming heart. “What has you so nervous?” He questions, eyeing you like you are nothing but a piece of meat.

“This is your camp?” You say, more out of observation than waiting for affirmation.

“It is,” Jack hums. “Good to see you made it. I’ve seen some proxies barely make it here by the skin of their teeth,” he continues as he sits down by the fire.

“What?” You ask as you quirk up an eyebrow.

Jack picks up his back to rest between his knees and rummage through it before beckoning you over to sit next to him.

You cautiously sit next to him on another crate. You avert your attention from him back to the fire.

“Proxies are servants of this tall guy,” Jack explains after ensuring you took your seat. “They run these woods essentially, but they never come to my neck in fear of the things that exist past what is safe,” he grins slightly, still rummaging in the bag. “Out here, it’s just me and the things who lurk.”

“The things that lurk?” You whisper in a questioning tone.

Jack nods again and pulls out a little journal. He begins to thumb through it as he continues to explain to you. “Things known as the Rake, the notdeer, the proxies that succumb to their sickness early, y’know, the things that kill.” He finally finds what he’s looking for.

You turn your attention to the journal and see he’s amassed a collection of polaroid photographs of the things that lurk.

“See? These are some proxies,” he hands the book to you and points at the pictures. “And here is one of the things that lurk.” His clawed finger shows you what used to be a proxy, their body torn to shreds, organs hanging everywhere, and in the center, what you can describe as a monster hungrily devouring their flesh. “I have a lot of good shit out here, and most of them never make it past this guy.”

You shiver slightly and Jack furrows his brows for just a moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for a moment before briefly taking the book from you. “Anyways, very few people make it out of the woods unless you’re a proxy or me. We used to make it out a lot easier but there was this one guy, ugly fucker,” he hisses. “That left the woods after burning down the trees to the main road - one of our crossing points. The trees grew back so fast after the tall guy’s wrath and now we’re all stuck here as a result. That ugly fucker? He disa-fucking-peared.” Jack growls deeply as he says it, clearly not happy with the memory.

“I’m… Sorry,” you apologize awkwardly.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?” He hums. “Anyways, flip a few pages and you’ll see the ugly fucker’s hovel before he left.” He pointed to the picture of a house similar to the one you were staying in.

Small world?

You studied the man who stood in the picture. He wasn’t that ugly in your opinion.

Jack then shows you other photos, places, effigies, proxies and one of a brilliant mansion. Apparently, you need to stay away from that place at all costs. There’s also pictures of him and other people, some of them you recognize from your time on earth? Is that right? Are you still on earth?

Jack explains a bit more to you. Mostly about this place. It’s like a pocket. Somehow, you were taken and brought here for a reason. Jack suspects it’s because the tall man, also known as the Slender Man, wants to make you a proxy.

“You’ll lose your humanity that way,” he tsks. “And that’s why I called you here. Not for pictures and conversation,” the warmth that was in his tone over reminiscing over things and learning about others is gone.

You notice it almost instantly. You watch as his posture changes and so too do his facial features. You know he means business now.

“I know you’re looking for a way out,” he begins. “I can help you with that.” Jack notices your eyes light up for the first time in well… It’s the first time he’d seen you look so hopeful.

“What’s the catch?” You ask as you slowly lean away from him.

Before Jack could say anything, a shriek was heard off in the distance. Jack’s face twinkled with excitement for a second before he nodded his head over to his tent.

It caught you off guard and sent your heart racing before yet another shriek emitted from the dark forest around the two of you.

“It’s dark,” Jack says as his gaze goes back over to his tent again. “Stay here for the night. Those things out there don’t really fuck with me,” he muses. When you don't answer, he stands up. “Unless you wanna try your luck out there, sweetheart. By all means…” He trails off as he slowly begins walking over to his tent.

You swallow your pride and stand up much too fast and catch pace with him.

Jack lets out an amused chuckle as he opens the flaps to the tend and allows you entrance.

You were immediately shrouded in the scent of petrichor and wild flowers. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell near as rough as you had originally expected. You felt a tad awkward standing in his tent as he zipped it up.

“You can sit down,” he says as he ensures the flaps were shut properly.

You nod more to yourself than anyone else and take a few more steps inside. It was tall enough that you could stand without brushing your head on the roof. On the floor interspersed with grass were carpets. It looked like a nest was in the near middle? Tons of blankets and two twin sized mattresses laid side by side were on the ground.

You glance around and see a small little desk, some writing supplies, just normal home stuff. Why was Jack living out here? There were tons of vacant houses.

Instead, you brush the thought off and settle on sitting timidly at the end of one of the blanket covered mattresses.

“Good choice,” Jack says as he procures from his pocket a box of matches. Then, he reaches over on the little desk for a kerosene lamp. After lighting it, the dimness of the tent became something actually visible. He checks his watch as he slowly makes his way to the other mattress.

“What time is it?” You ask as you struggle to get comfortable on the mattress.

“Surprisingly? Nearing midnight,” he answers. Jack stretches slightly before plopping down entirely. “Get some sleep, yeah? Tomorrow morning, we’ll set out to do what I ask,” Jack subtly demands. He props his elbows up on his knees and watches from the corner of his gaze as you shift awkwardly.

You felt strange laying down on the mattress, but did so anyway. It doesn’t seem Jack cared very much that your shoes were still on. You move your body slightly to find comfort on the mattress while Jack continues to eye you from the corner of his vision.

He takes note of your form, how delicious you look. How he can take you right now.

But he saw your eyelids grow heavy. Within moments, you were on the verge of passing out.

Jack relents softly. He knows she wants your full attention while he ruts into you making you cry out to gods that don’t want to hear you. He sees you begin to fade in and out of consciousness. Luckily for him, he does have some business to attend to, and those creatures didn’t ever get too close to his camp.

They wouldn’t touch you, not with his scent bathed all over you.

One of the last things you heard before Jack left to attend to other matters was a compliment. You barely heard it, and it would have shocked you right awake if your body wasn’t on the verge of shutting down.

“You look so pretty right now, Sweetheart. Beautiful, even.”

It wasn’t until 3am that Jack finally returned. You were fast asleep when he finally resented the tent, but he could smell you all the way from where his important matters laid. His nose guided him back to you. And funnily enough, it brought him back to you about a week ago as well.

Jack hadn’t smelled a fertile woman in a very long time. Well, since this whole mess came upon the Slender Man’s woods, really. He spied on you the first few days you were here. You weren’t as ready for him then, must’ve just been leading up to it. When he popped into your kitchen, it was because you were getting so close to your peak. The smell was overwhelming, sweet, and tender. Intoxicating. Like fresh peaches and the tangiest of strawberry pie. Lucky for him? You came to him at your peak.

Jack ressecure the flaps of the tend before his vision that saw all too well in the darkness his beauty that rests on the mattress he knew you’d choose. Your face and other gestures were gently lit up by the almost extinguished kerosene lamp’s flame. It drove him wild to see you breathe so peacefully.

Your chest rose every so slightly and he could have sworn he caught the outline of your nipples if it wasn’t for that stupiud bra you had on instead.

Jack licked his lips as he quietly drew himself closer to you. He couldn’t stop himself from crawling on top, quietly and slowly, so as to not wake you. One of his knees gently pried apart your legs, and then he took in your scent. You smelled of something not from the woods. You smelled of fresh vanilla and dark roast coffee. Of strawberry pound cake. Of good things.

Jack leans down and takes in your scent near the base of your neck, inhales deeply, then buries his nose in your hair. You smell divine, possibly even better than… Well, it’s best not to say. His hand picks itself up off the mattress to gently and gingerly brush near your hairline. Sily. Pretty. He then places it on your stomach and lightly presses, trailing his claws along your abdomen to your side. You are so soft. So delicate.

The moment his clawed fingertips touch your side and begin trailing down, you wake up.

Your eyes fly open and you almost let out a scream at seeing how this strange man is looming over you. Your mouth opens, but his hand quickly leaves your side to smother you. You breathe heavily against his palm, your eyes wide and with fear. You struggle against him.

“Shhh, he hushes as his hand presses a little firmer on your mouth. “Calm down.” His voice was low as his knee dug further into the mattress, just below the place he wanted most.

You continue to struggle against him, fighting against his planted hand while his other hand presses down on your hips.

“You promise not to scream?” Jack deadpans in a low tone with an edge that cuts you to your core. He sees tears welling in your eyes, and he knows you’re telling the truth. Slowly, he peels his hand back, watching as you keep true to your word.

You take in deep breaths to help self regulate. “What the fuck?” You seethe. Your arms, which have been pawing wildly at his chest, relax only slightly when his clawed hands catch your wrist in a vice grip.

“Easy,” he murmurs, only loosening his grip when he’s sure you won’t fight him any further. His head dips so his empty caverns can peer right through yours in the dim light.

One look and you know what he wants. Horor and something else - something wanton - pass across your face, making Jack laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna hurt you,” he hums, his clawed index finger trailing your cheek.

Before you can say anything else, Jack’s hand leaves your hips and grabs your face. With a wicked grin, he licks his teeth, then leans down and licks your face.

You contort to digits as he does so. He smells of iron.

“Why are you doing this?” You growl as his tongue leaves your cheek to your chin, slowly making his way to your neck. “I can leave if that’s-”

“No,” Jack growls. “You won’t leave,” he states before gently nipping at the soft flesh on your neck. “You smell so good,” he murmurs before taking another languid lick at your neck.”I’m going to make you mine,” With that, he entirely retracted his form from yours to look down at you.

Of course, you fight him. Your thighs grip around his upper leg that still rests between your knees and you almost maange to flip the two of you over. But he was much bigger and much stronger than you could manage. With a deep laugh, he grips your wrists tighter above your head and squeezes to let you know who is in charge. With his free hand, he reaches into his back pocket and gets the zip ties.

How the fuck did he get zip ties?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you hiss as he dangles them in front of your eyes.

“I just can’t trust you right now,” Jack tsks in the tone of a pouting child. The black zip ties feel awful against your wrists (they also feel good) - and he’d secured them so tightly. He playfully watches you attempt to break free from them, and when it proves futile, he laughs. Jack then allows his hands to take free roam of your body while you begin to protest him less and less. “I know you don’t have any spare clothes,” he hums thoughtfully before his fingers waltz down to the hem of your shirt. “Luckily, I have some left over. You won’t be needing any of this,” he cackles as his sharp claws make waste of the fabric.

You feel yourself growing weaker and weaker under his grasp but still curse at him more than what you deem possible. Jack seemed to eat up your insults. “You’re fucking sick,” you spit as he eyes your bra hungrily. “A sick fucking pervert.”

“You stayed the night, Sweetheart,” Jack grins wickedly. “I’m only taking claim of what’s now mine,” he says before delicately tracing the cups of your bra. He likes the design. Dark blue with light colored polka dots. An interesting choice. Without wasting any more time, his claws cut through the fabric too - no use in unclasping while your hands are bound. “How beautiful,” he giggles. “How lovely. I could hardly tell when you were using those bags you call clothes,” he teases, making your knees clamp around his knee once more, making Jack break again and laugh.

You bite your tongue and try to avert your gaze from him, not wanting him to see that you’re flushed due to the intimacy and that your body and you yourself are growing keen to the situation you have found yourself in. “This is…”

“C’mon,” Jack breathes out as his fingers trail up your smooth flesh to your breasts. “You must’ve known something was up. A man doesn’t just ask a woman to stay the night. He’s got one thing on his mind if she isn’t family or a friend: he wants to fuck her.”

The harshness and pure lust that dripped from his tongue made your face heat up in response. Your gaze darts and bounces around before you finally settle on his hands that are now fondling your chest.

Jack’s hands travel to your pants. He takes in your scent again. You are intoxicating, so intoxicating.

“You’re gonna have to work for it,” you manage to hiss out, legs still clamped around his knee.

Jack’s expression falls. “You’re not in charge, I am.” And with that, he rips through your pants, leaving you naked before him.

You shiver slightly in response to the cool air, and of course, Jack has to see that and make note of it as well.

“Awh,” he coos as his nose gets closer and closer to your heat. “Are you cold? Do you want me to warm you up?” He murmurs in a sickening lust filled tone.

“You bastard-” you’re barely able to breathe out before you’re cut off by Jack dragging the flat of his long, black tongue from the bottom to the top, taking great joy in the arousal that was already present.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he teases before dragging his tongue again. “Already soaking,” he compliments. His thumb, careful of the sharpened claw, travels to your clit and begins to slowly massage it. He feels your legs shift. Jack hums as he does to, hsi tongue only playing with your lips. He was going to make you suffer before he stuffs you completely.

His teeth nip you every now and then, just to remind you who was really in charge as his tongue and lips press kisses to your lower lips. He doesn’t dare dip into your heat despite wanting to taste you in full.

You write in his grasp, trying to hold back any and all sounds of pleasure. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to you.

It’s a shame really, he could make you see stars if only you’d let him.

He must have gone near half an hour with his head between your legs, still fully dressed. He was a man of great patience, and he’d been edging you for much longer and harder than he should have. He could see frustration dotting your face when he finally came back up to look at you.

You look a little more flushed than he remembers. It’s probably all the heat rushing to your face. He notices your hands are quite restless too, that and being tied up couldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world.

“You look upset, why?” He asks before sucking on your clit. When you struggle to say anything, his teeth graze you ever so slightly. “Use your words, please,” he hums much like an authority figure would.

“Tongue fuck me,” you mumble in embarrassment, eyes darting anywhere but at Jack who is still nestled securely between your legs. You watch as Jack’s ears perk up.

“Say that again,” he prompts, his fingers taking over his tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you say softly “Tongue fuck me and please untie me.”

A sly grin crosses onto Jack’s face alongside yet another chuckle. He momentarily leaves your legs and crawls back up to be face to face with you. His index finger reaches up and his claw slashes through the zip ties.

You freely move your wrists, getting used to your newfound freedom.

“It’s only because you asked nicely,” Jack coos as his sockets bore into your eyes. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pleasantly surprised that you don’t fight him like before. He then crawls back down your body to rest in between your legs, his clawed fingers parting your lower lips slightly before he dives his tongue in. He takes great joy in how you write beneath him as your thighs press harder against the side of his head.

He buries his tongue inside of you and curls it in places no human could ever reach. He has you seeing stars.

You buck your hips quite a few times and Jack’s hand reluctantly leaves your thighs to push your hips back down. As he tongue fucks you closer and closer to release, you become a little harder to control. He enjoys it though.

Jack hums absentmindedly as he does so, relishing in your taste. You are soaking wet and so, so close. All he has to do is push you off the edge.

He slithers his tongue out of you before rubbing your clit with his thumb, allowing you to take your mind off your pussy and to the assault your clit before your mind goes white hot in pleasure. Jack’s tongue darts so fast into your pussy that you almost yelp in response as he thrusts it back in and out, still humming like it was no big deal.

Your back arches and that’s all Jack needs to know to see you’re just about to cum. A few more rough flicks of his tongue and you’re creaming onto his face. Your hands grip the nest’s bedsheets and various blankets as he continues to carefully tongue fuck you through your orgasm. He grins as he laps up your sweetness, teasing you under his breath about the effect he has on you.

But he’s not done with you, not by a long shot.

You look up hazily while panting deeply as Jack’s tongue slowly leaves your pussy. The flat of his tongue slowly swipes up from bottom to top which makes you giggle, and he smiles against your skin. From there, he begins working on undoing his belt.

“Here,” you murmur softly, his ears once again perking up to catch your words.

“Hm? He hums in response as he cocks his head to the side, watching as you slowly sit up and stretch before your hands gently press onto his chest. You push off his dark brown coat and then trail down to his belt.

Your hands are soft and gentle as you work on freeing him, and within moments, you are tossing his belt to the side and unzipping him. You can see the tent in Jack’s pants, and you can already feel how delicious he’s going to feel inside of you.

Jack nods for you to lay back down when you shake your head ‘no.’ Interesting. Instead, your hands unzip him and you reach for his cock. Your eyes pop as you touch it - he was hot, much hotter than any man you’d previously been with.

“Come on, don’t keep me waiting,” Jack teases.

You roll your eyes playfully before finally fishing him from his pants, guiding him out with anticipation. You look up at him the entire time you do so, lust clouding your vision and burning through your soul as you do so, almost unaware of the monster you hold in your hands. When you finally look down, you feel heat rise to your face once more.

Jack smirks in response and tangles his fingers near your scalp, brushing you ever so slightly. He guides your lips down to meet the giant. He was big. No denying it. Had to be near nine inches, thich, veiny, with a girthy know he couldn’t wait to stuff inside of you.

You didn’t fight against him. Instead, you eagerly awaited him for your mouth.

Your lips are soft as they press the lightest of kisses to his tip. And just like that, you’re dragging the length of your tongue up and down his cock and listening to him growl in anticipation. When you know you’ve got him where you want him, you take him in your mouth.

Jack’s claws keep steady in your hair as you bob your head. Your lips couldn’t reach his know, and to be completely fair, he wasn’t expecting you to be able to take all of him orally, but he loves what you can do. Your tongue swirls around his tip and shaft every time you come back up, and when Jack was acting up? You graze your teeth against him.

Before he knows it, you are looking up at him with the sweetest gaze, giving him your permission for him to use you. Jack passes you a look of affection before his other hand reaches up to caress your cheek, moaning out deeply as your tongue swirls on his tip, trying to coax his cum out.

Without any particular warning, he pushes your head down and brings you back up before working into face fucking you.

Your face goes dark as he uses you, making breathing damn near impossible. He begins muttering in some language you don’t know - they sound like praises - but he’s coming closer and closer to his edge.

In a mix of English and whatever language he was mumbling in, you can feel his praises get filthier and filthier. Though, Jack doesn’t want to finish in your mouth. Not this time.

“Back down, I’m going to fuck you,” he murmurs deeply while looking at you with lust and… something you can’t quite name. It wasn’t animalistic, that’s for sure.

Jack expects for you to lay back and spread your legs for him but instead, he watches as you maneuver on all fours. Your face is burying into the blankets and your ass is just shy of his waist level despite you pushing up towards him.

You glance back at him and roll your eyes playfully before swaying your hips, attempting to entice him further.

Jack sees the slickness of your cunt and without any hesitation, takes your waist into his clawed hands and begins rubbing his cock with your slick. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs as he continues to rub his cock with your juices. “I’m going to destroy you.” And then he slips into that language you just can’t understand. “I’m going to knot you and you won’t be able to look at another man without begging for me to fill you up,” he says as his fingers lightly part your lips that were so tightly pressed together as he lines up with you.

Before he does so, he begins to shrug off his hoodie.

“Stop teasing me,” you say in a teasing tone, making Jack pause from taking off the rest of his clothes.

Jack verbally rolls his eyes before taking his hand out from under his hoodie before gripping your waist again. Without any warning, Jack shoves himself into your roughly, hilting himself to his knot before resting there and taking off the hoodie.

Your eyes roll up slightly as he thrust inside of you. The thickness he had wasn’t anything you were used to, and he stretched you open with absolutely no lead up and it made you see stars again.

“I can feel your wet cunt,” he says in passing as he throws his hoodie up and over his head. “Squeeze around me while you wait for me to fuck you,” he chuckles with a devilish grin. He feels your body’s eagerness for him to fuck you, and like such a good girl, you squeeze his cock making him breathe out with a smile. He feels you pulsing, he feels you growing hundred with the need the longer he stays dormant inside of you.

He sighs in ecstasy as he begins to slowly move himself out of you. When it was just the tip, he roughly slid back in, still refusing to knot. His ears twitch at the sound of you gasping for air as he really begins to fuck you. “And here you were calling me a pervert,” he muses as he begins to thrust into you with deep, long strokes, adoring the sounds that pour from your mouth. “But you like fucking me huh? You like it, you goddamn slut. You like being fucked by something that is no longer human,” he continues in that same dead language, nails digging into your soft flesh. “You’re gonna milk my cock and then you’re gonna do it again in the morning.”

Your eyebrows furrow, mouth slightly open, hair bouncing slightly with every thrust. Your face is so heated in response. This is something you know you shouldn’t be doing, but fuck was it good at keeping you around and interested.

As one of his clawed hands undug itself from your flesh to slide down your hip and caress your abdomen, his claws trace your skin and press into your clit once more. He thumbs you and leans over you as he does so, his other hand propping next to your head as he engulfs you with his size. He’s pounding into you now, still refusing to know. His tongue lazily swipes at your shoulder as his hips thrust into you at a damn near inhuman speed and strength, making you mumble incoherencies.

Your moans are music to his ears.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you feel like you can’t anymore, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’m the only man you’ll ever fucking think about,” he roughly sneers into your ears as he continues to pound his hips against you. “I’m going to fuck you until you tell me to stop, and even then? I might not stop.” He breathes deeply into your ear, his tongue tracing the shell as you pathetically move in tandem with him, his fingers digging into your clit and swirling.

He’s trying to get you to cum again.

You are trembling beneath him as his hips shatter you. You can feel his knot greet your lips, but still refuse to enter as Jack growls deeply into your ear. Your legs clamp together as his hand roughly fingers your pearl.

He’s so intoxicating, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Cum on my cock,” he hisses harshly, still fucking you to orgasm.

And just like that, he got his wish.

You squeeze shut your beautiful eyes before tightening your thighs together. An immediate waterfall gushes from between your legs, filling the air with something sweet and slightly bitter.

Jack laughs as he pulls out from your pussy, watching as the liquids continue to gush out. “What a cutie,” he teases as he lovingly licks your cheek. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I knot you,” he grins, nodding for you to lay back on the side of the twin mattresses that was not turned into an ocean.

On hellied legs, you slowly wobble and hum as his finger traces your slit before falling back to the side of the mattresses that isn’t soaked. Your eyes meet his gaze and you slowly spread your legs as he looms over you. You catalog everything about him. In your eyes, he looks so animalistic, and so human all at the same time.

Without his jacket or his hoodie, you’re able to see the scars that decorate his body. He’s so dark, and the cuts and jagged lines that dash across his form are so light in contrast. He’s still lacking eyes - so how is it that he looks at you with such love?

That stupid smirk is looking at you again and you’re tearing your gaze off it to see the head of his cock weeping with precum.

Jack whistles down at you, his hand resting on your knee. “You knew this was coming, Sweetheart,” he hums as he leans forward, hands placing themselves on both sides of you. His grin grew as he saw your face heat up once more.

Jack feels your legs shift followed by a slight weight on his lower waist, He makes a noise of approval as your ankles lock before he glances down to where your bodies are soon going to be connected again. “Let me know if I hurt you at any point,” he whispers softly in your ear as his slightly pointed tip prods at your entrance.

You find yourself almost taken aback by his sudden kindness - he was so domineering but so soft? Your trail of thought is almost entirely derailed as he pushes his cock in and past your puffy, swollen lips as you listen to him hiss at the new angle.

It’s intimate - neither of you can deny that.

Jack watches your expressions from the corner of his gaze as he slowly begins to pump in and out of you, working you to that breakneck pace once more. He watches as your eyebrows furrow as he picks up the pace, fucking you in your entirety. He feels your legs tighten around his waist and watches as your eyebrows furrow once more and knit together in pleasure.

You begin to pant as he does so, walls pulsing deliciously around him as his hips meet yours in thick, meaty thrusts. You feel his cock slide deeper and deeper with every thrust, pushing you to new limits.

Your moans are, once again, music to his ears as he fucks you senseless. Your hands wantonly claw at his back and brush against his sensitive flesh. Swears and curses escape your lips every now and then and that makes him blush.

“You are taking me so, so well,” he harshly compliments through pants as he lowers himself onto his forearms, his hips continuously snapping forward. “It’s almost as if your cunt was made for me. I wonder if you can take my knot as well?” He mumbles as his knot kisses your bruised lips once again. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna make you take it.”

“Fuck!” Jack swore under his breath as your walls vice gripped him. “You’re gonna take my knot and you’re gonna like it,” he mumbles into your neck as he kisses and nips at it. He hisses again when you rake your nails across and down his back. His ears fall back in pleasure and close to his scalp as you moan louder. The sound of your pussy gobbling him up has him weak at the knees.

“You’re getting close again, aren’t you?” He questions as he nips at your neck, threatening to bite in the longer you hesitate in answering.

You’re admittedly pretty tongue tied at the moment. “I-!” You’re cut off but his hips slapping forward making you choke and gasp for air. “I am-,” you breathe out through your moans.

“Perfect,” Jack chuckles as he slowly inches his way out. He watches your face carefully as he pulls out, his gaze trained on yours as his forearms push up so he can see you better.

Confusion etches itself on your face. “What?”

“I just wanna see your face,” he answers as his tip rubs against your entrance. He licks your cheek playfully once more before slowly, and deliciously dragging his cock back in, his knot just barely meeting your lips. “This might hurt,” he murmurs gently as he picks his hips back up once more before thrusting back in, much more forcefully, his thick, large knot finally breaching your pussy.

Your eyes widen as his girthy knot pushes inside of you, your legs instinctively tightening around his hips. Your hand leaves his back to grip onto his bicep. Luckily for you, Jack doesn’t mind. You wince as he wiggles in the rest of his knot into your pussy as it swallows him whole, the entirety of his knot being buried inside of you, making it hard for you to breathe. You feel so full and stuffed!

Jack is a little surprised by how strong your grip is! He’s almost completely smitten with it when he finally looks down to see tears welling in your eyes. He can tell it’s a mixture of both paini, from being stressed immensely, and pleasure in a way only pain could bring. It’s ecstasy. Jack leans down gently and begins to kiss your tears away, careful to not pull where the two of you are connected all the while restraining himself to what he doesn’t believe is bearable.

“You feel so divine,” he murmurs livingly before licking away another tear. “Just relax, let me do the work,” he continues. He feels your lips on his and he smiles, taking that as the green light to rock into you. Unfortunately, he would not be able to completely destroy you like he did prior to knotting you simply because of the knot.

Now, Jack takes the time to be intimate. He lovingly relishes in the feeling of kissing you as he slowly and tantalizingly grinds his hips against you and lightly thrusts after every roll. It was a little difficult due to the connection, but it felt sweet. His hand went back between your legs to work your pearl as he continued to sweetly roll and thrust into you, thoroughly enjoying how your hips are shyly coming up to meet him.

“Come on,” he whispers softly through his kiss as he begins to thrust a little rougher. “Just a little more, cum on my cock again,” he urges as he breaks the kiss, licking your cheek. He’s swiping and thumbing your clit in ways that have you writhing beneath him.

Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him to press deeper inside of you.

Not one to deny a lady from what she wants, Jack backs up as far as his hips will let him and pounds back into you. He repeats the motion, making sure to roll every time he does so.

Your hands grasp at his back once more as he fucks you with reckless abandon, his name being the only thing to spill from your lips as he does so. You can’t believe he’s overloading you again, and your heart picks up in response. You kiss him once more, feeling his chapped, rough lips against your soft ones before he leaves and nips down the side of your face and back to your neck. He lightly bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for you to know he’s got a claim on you.

You look up at him as he mumbles in that same dead language against your skin. He’s so lost in you that it’s almost adorable. Your hand gently asks for his attention, and he gives it to you. You give him a look of nothing but lust and possibly love, and Jack’s lips are on yours again, thickly, warmly, with something deeper and much more passionate than anything you would have expected he was capable of. When he breaks away, panting, against your face, he makes you cry out in pleasure.

“I’m going to fill you,” Jack sneers through his panting, hips still thickly pounding into you. “I’m going to fill you for as long as I’m inside of you,” he mutters as his thrusts frow sloppy. Jack covers you entirely with his body as he roughly pants into your ear, so, so close to spilling.

Your walls begin to flutter around him, urging him to spill as he growls into you. You feel like you’re creaming rings around his dick, urging, no, begging him to bottom out inside of you. Your nails are leaving dark, jagged marks into the flesh of his back as he does so.

With a few more powerful thrusts, Jack finds himself going over the edge, his hips back as far as his knot will allow him before he buries himself deep, the tip pressing against your cervix as he releases himself inside of you. Hot, thick, sticky ropes of cum begin to flood into your needy cunt as lightly rocks himself inside of you, gritting his teeth as you tremble beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He continually growls out like a prayer as your fluttering walls coax more cum from him.

Your eyes roll upwards as the heat floods your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes shut and burying your face into his chest. You’re squeezing tightly around him, vice gripping him as he continues to relish in the feeling of your body holding him so tightly. You can barely think straight as his cock weeps more cum, threatening, and succeeding in filling you to your brim.

“Gods, you’re milking me,” he murmurs as he finally stops pumping you full of cum. “This… This is gonna take a while,” he says darkly in your ear.

“What?”

Jack nods down to where the two of you are still connected. “Gonna be a while.” He sighs, secures your legs to his waist, and then flips you over so you are resting on top of his chest. “Get comfortable.”

“How long..?”

“A while,” Jack awkwardly coughs. “It’s just uh, a knot thing, I guess?” He attempts to explain as you shift your hips deliciously, making him huff and his cock spurt more ropes of cum. He looks away in slight embarrassment. “You can sleep, if you want? Like I said, this is gonna be a while,” he finishes as his hand fishes around for a blanket as his other hand travels down your lower waist to finally cup your ass. He squeezes gently once he finally throws the blanket over the two of you.

“Or,” you say as you plant your hands firmly on his chest, gradually bringing yourself back up. “We can go again.”

Jack laughs. “And you called me a pervert.”

You lightly slap him and grind your hips slowly against him. “Shut up.”

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #nsft #creepypasta scenario #x reader #reader insert

[apompkwrites]

nights of remembrance

masterlist characters: venti, zhongli genre: angst contains: hinting the loss of a lover, (name) isn't specifically mentioned summary: with their journey continuing, the traveler decides to pay the archons a visit. notes: just an idea i had :) not a request but i promise i'm working on them!

"we've never seen their homes, have we?" paimon hums as they float beside their partner. the twin nods quietly, watching as paimon continues to interrupt conversations in search of the archon's residence.

venti -

"you're looking for venti?" jean echoes, earning a nod from the duo. the acting grand master sorts through papers for a few seconds before settling on a single file. her eyes scan over them before she states. "i think this is where he lives."

she hands the paper over to the adventurers. paimon peers over the traveler’s shoulder before cheering, “oh! paimon knows where that house is!”

“you do?” the traveler chuckles, following their floating companion out of the knights’ headquarters.

“mhm! we pass by it all the time!”

the traveler, trusting paimon's word, continues following after them before they arrive at the door of a secluded home.

the blond(e) knocks on the wooden door, sharing a confused look with paimon when no response is given.

"do you think he's ignoring us?" paimon asks, prompting the traveler to shake their head. paimon puffs out their cheeks before proposing, "let's see if the door's open!"

"...why not?" with a shrug, the traveler goes to push open the door. and to their surprise, it opens with a simple nudge.

"is he not home?" paimon questions, floating around the empty living room. the traveler begins walking through the home, noting the picture frames littered around the rooms.

some were turned down with their photos pressed against the counter. others were simply empty, the backs of them broken as if the last person clawed at them.

they eventually reach the top of the stairs, a single door open by an inch. they peek through the gap of the door, spotting a person standing in front of a mirror.

the person's eyes were closed and their hands cupped their own cheeks. they stroked their own skin as they hummed quiet songs, taking shaky breaths in between each one.

"hello traveler," the person suddenly greets, remaining in front of the mirror with shut eyes.

"u-uh, hello!" the blond(e) replies nervously, opening the door to step into the room. "sorry, we thought this was someone else's house..."

"who were you looking for?" they inquire, turning around to face them.

"a friend of ours. he's... a bard!"

"hold on," with that, they disappear from the traveler's view. after a minute or so, venti walks in from what was seemingly a bathroom. "what pleasure do i owe you, traveler?"

"we just wanted to visit!" paimon, who had floated beside the traveler, answers.

"ah, i see, i see," venti laughs half-heartedly.

"who was that earlier?"

"hm?"

"the person in here," the traveler clarifies. "the one in front of the mirror."

venti purses his lips before looking over his shoulder, staring at the one frame that still contained a photograph. he lets out a quiet sigh before walking over to it, delicately taking it from its place on the wall.

“them?” the single word he uttered held a sadness the traveler was quite familiar with.

a sadness that screamed desperation and longing.

“that’s them,” they nod. venti hums quietly, holding the frame close to his chest.

“they… were my muse. and they still are.”

zhongli –

“ah, you’re looking for zhongli?” hu tao grins, adjusting her grip on a box.

“yep! we’re just here to visit,” paimon states, twirling in their spot in the air. “is he here?”

“unfortunately, you came at the wrong time,” the director replies, shaking her head. “zhongli is on his break right now.”

“i wouldn’t expect zhongli to be the type to take a break,” the traveler chuckles. hu tao drops the box near her desk before whirling around to face the duo.

“i know where you could find him, though!” she beams, swatting at the ghost chewing at her hair. without waiting for a response, she grabs the blond(e)’s hand and drags them out of the parlour, pointing down the walkway. “if you go down this road, there’s one house! that’s where he should be right now.”

“he owns a house?” paimon questions, furrowing their brows. “he doesn’t seem like he could afford it.”

“he doesn’t!” hu tao grins once more before disappearing into the funeral parlour. brushing off hu tao’s normal, happy-go-lucky attitude, the two head down the path through liyue.

a small home greets them at the end with small bushes of flowers surrounding it. the silk flowers, qingxin, and glaze lilies planted around were well taken care of. small water droplets could be seen on their petals, falling to the grass with each passing second.

the wooden stairs barely made a sound as the traveler stepped on them, allowing the blond(e) to walk up them silently. paimon kicks the air excitedly before pushing the door, letting out a yelp when the door swings open without a squeak.

from where they stood, they could see a figure with (h/color) hair mumbling to themselves as they paced around the kitchen.

“um…! excuse us!” paimon calls out as they squeeze through the gap in the door. The person turns around, smiling softly as they nod in acknowledgment. they motion towards one of the empty chairs at the table.

“thank you…?” the traveler nods, pulling out the chair to sit down. they glance around the room, staring at the small pieces of paper taped on the walls. only a few notes were intelligible from where they sat.

take care of the flowers every day.

tea breaks after work.

ingredients for bamboo shoot soup, almond tofu, universal peace, and crab roe tofu are in the cabinets.

tend to azhdaha’s tree.

“apologies,” the (h/color)-haired person hums, placing two cups in front of the traveling duo. they take a seat across from them with their own cup, taking a small sip as they ask, “is there something you needed from me?”

“we were looking for zhongli!” paimon cheers, jumping in the air. “hu tao said he lived here.”

“ah, i see,” they nod before standing up. “i can get him for you.”

a few minutes pass before the two hear soft footsteps. They turn their heads, finding the geo archon walking towards them with a picture frame clutched in his hand. he takes the seat across from the traveler, placing the frame in the middle of the table.

“i assume you have questions about who they were,” he mutters, turning the frame to show the picture inside.

“are they your partner?” paimon teases, folding their hands together.

“they are,” zhongli chuckles, gliding his fingers over the glass. “they are the one thing i will protect from erosion. no matter the cost. such is… my final contract with them.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact angst #genshin impact venti #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin venti #genshin venti x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact barbatos #genshin impact barbatos x reader #genshin barbatos #genshin barbatos x reader #barbatos x reader #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact rex lapis #genshin impact rex lapis x reader #genshin rex lapis #genshin rex lapis x reader #rex lapis x reader

[mediocre--writing]

They’re just sitting there. On the bleachers. Like a pair of basic chicks gossiping in a teen movie. 

Well, it’s an exact description of what they’re doing. Down to the not-so-mindless chat about the boys they were interested in. 

“I mean--do you see the way his hair like bounces when he runs? It practically defies gravity,”

“Yes, I do see that. And if you mention something about his hair one more time, you’re about to defy gravity until you hit the cement behind the bleachers,”

“Harsh, Nance,” Billy tutted as he leaned against the bleacher behind him, “that was harsh!” 

“B, I was obsessed with the guy for like--almost a year, alright? I know how his hair looks when he runs,”

“I know... it’s just gotten a bit longer recently and there’s like this little piece that always hangs above his eyebrow that he blows away and it’s so--”

“Cute? Adorable? Mind-numbingly attractive?” Nancy deadpanned with a pointed glare at Billy. 

“I was going to say endearing, but I like ‘mind-numbingly attractive’ much better,” He gave a classic smirk at her obvious annoyance but enjoyed the view he had of the track team doing their drills and warm ups. 

“What about you, Mr. Sporty? Why aren’t you trying out right there with him?”

“Me?” Billy asked as if the idea of him exercising was a feat unknown to the world. “Oh, honey, I don't run,”

Nancy scrunched her nose at being called ‘Honey’ but rolled her eyes at his statement. “Well you’ve been chasing Steve for so long, it must’ve slipped my mind,”

“And how are things going with you and the stalker?” Billy shot back with a smug look on his face. 

“He’s not a stalker!” Billy tilted his head towards hers, giving a look of disbelief, “He’s the yearbook photographer, it’s his job to take pictures around school!”

“Oh? So it’s his job to make sure he gets photos of you in every class, multiple times a day? For the yearbook, I’m sure,”

“That’s not--” Billy lifted an eyebrow and Nancy accepted defeat, “Fine,”

“I don't see why you don’t just go for it? Corner him in that creepy dark room and get what you want. I’m sure he’s in there right now waiting for you to slam him into the wall and get it on. It’s even got that nice, red mood lighting--”

Nancy slapped Billy’s leg, as he was above her bleacher and leaning back, but, had she had the chance, she would have whacked the back of his head. 

Billy’s loud, bark-like laugh made Steve’s head turn from where he was standing at the start line on the track and stare for a minute. 

“Miss your little Princess?” another boy, Steve thinks his name is Todd or something, taunts as Steve turns back to the track, rather than admiring the way Billy’s gold hair shines in the sunlight.

“Sure,” Steve says, as he wasn’t really paying attention nor felt any need to listen to Todd-whatever.

“Yeah, well I think that Hargrove’s got his claws in her now,”

Steve actually heard and processed that comment, “What?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me that you haven’t noticed that they’re always together. They follow each other between classes and he drives her home sometimes. I heard from Tommy H, who heard from Carol, who’s seen them eating at Benny’s at least five times by now,” 

“I really don’t care,”

Steve, actually, cared very much. 

He could’ve sworn that Nancy had alluded to liking Byers when she’d finally broken it off with him. Plus, she didn’t seem like the type to like her men especially manly. Especially not someone like Billy Hargrove. And, to the best of his knowledge, Billy Hargrove didn’t particularly care for Nancy’s...kind (you know: women).

“He's looking at youuuuu..” Nancy prodded as she poked at Billy’s jean-clad calf and wiggled her eyebrows towards the field. 

“Can you shut up?” Billy grumbled as if he wasn’t turning bright red out of embarrassment. 

“Ok, Mr. Harrington,” she whispered not-so-subtlety.

Billy leaned forward from where he was leaning and swatted playfully at her shoulder, his face turning even more red and eyes practically bugging out of his head. “I will throw you down these bleachers!”

“Why? You wanna save me and show everyone that you know CPR or some shit so you look all heroic in front of your boyfriend?”

“Nancy Fallulah Wheeler--”

“That’s not my middle name--”

“Well you still refuse to tell me your real middle name,” He accused before going back to his threat, “I swear to God that I will tear you limb from limb and kill you and make it look like an accident,” Billy pointed a finger at her with a glare, but it held no real malice behind it.

“Awww, you’re so in love with him, you’re acting delusional,” Nancy cooed. 

“I’ll tell the stalker that you know he’s been taking your pictures since the school year has began and get all the pictures--no--only the bad pictures, and make them posters, then I will proceed to post them everywhere,” Billy had a bright, teasing smile on his face as he concocted a ‘revenge plan.’ “And I'm sure he has at least one of you sneezing. Or maybe the day when you decided to eat clam chowder and ended up wearing it? Don't try me, Wheeler,”

“Yeah, well, what if I just did this?” Nancy smirked evilly. 

Billy sat up to attention. He knew that smirk. Nothing good ever happened after that smirk. 

Nancy stood up on the bleachers and screamed, at the top of her lungs, “STEVE!!” then dropped down as Billy grabbed her by the waist and yanked her to sit next to him. 

She giggled her little heart out as Billy waved at Steve on the track then whispered his murderous thoughts right in Nancy’s ear. 

Steve, albeit confused, couldn’t help but smile at Billy’s little wave of dismissal and obvious embarrassment. It was kinda cute. 

“Yeah, the princess definitely doesn’t seem to like you anymore, bud,” Todd-whatever felt the need to say. 

“Yeah, that’s not who I’m looking at, but thank you anyway,” Steve gave a mocking smile before the coach’s whistle blew and he took off for his sprint. 

#idk I got feelings about bff Nancy and Billy and had to write something #yes I do have unanswered asks #yes I am writing new shit instead #anyway this is like kinda modern times. that or nobody cares if you're gay or not because fuck the 80's homophobia #this is so ridiculous but I love it so I don't care #but Nancy and billy just teasing each other all of the time is peak friendship and no I will not take that back #Nancy knowing that Steve was ok with the breakup bc of his crush on billy and trying to tell billy but he's so oblivious to everything #I almost thought about doing a Nancy/robin thing with this one but decided that I liked Jonathan better #(I just wanted an excuse to make a billy/max parallel of calling people 'stalker') #billy hargrove #Nancy wheeler #Steve harrington #Jonathan byers #harringrove #stranger things #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Moon

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | four

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: All relationships are about give and take.

Word count: 7k~

Rating: Explicit (Mature until the last few paragraphs)

Warnings/tags: nightmares, trauma, drinking, fluff and pining, drugs/being drugged (medicinal), wound care, blood, shots/needles, mature themes/language, emo shit, masturbation (f)

Notes: Hi friends. This is broken up in two portions: the first, being in Nevarro, and the second taking place some time later (hopefully that becomes clear when you read it heh). I'm hoping I captured the varying, distinct tones in each of the sections. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) Enjoy x (gif credit: @skyshipper)

They come at night.

The visions.

Your legs are rock, crumbling - eroding - with each weighted step, trudging through the city you once knew, laid bare to waste all around you. The air is grey brown, chalked with dust—with ash. There are bodies lining the road like trimmed hedges, floating by their ankles—ugly, corporal zeppelins. They’re pale. Their eyes are burned to coal and their tongues hang dead and waxy from their mouths.

They begin the same, choreographed like this; you follow the paths your mind has carved out for you, time and time again.

You spot him, plated in silver at the end of the row. Your feet stop. You see him, and he sees you. You feel his eyes - hawkish, piercing - under the murk of his visor. A predator’s gaze. He’s got a man in his fist—you think you recognize him, you might not—held by the scruff of his neck.

Sometimes it’s X’elo, bending to break in his gloved grasp. Other times, a stranger—a half remembered photograph—a memory of a memory of another dream entirely.

And sometimes, it’s you.

You hear the howl of wind scream through your bones—through the bones of the ruins there—but you don’t feel it. There’s only heat—the kind that’s unavoidable and omnipresent, as heavy as guilt. The hunter brings his hands to frame the man’s temples—yours too, sometimes— pebbles and slate trembling off you as you move towards them. You’re running, you realize, immobile but running and you’re not sure how or why—you never get there in time to find out.

He snaps his neck. You hear the crunch in your own ear—inside your own head.

It becomes night—blood moons drip wet from the sky. They splash onto the dirt. It turns to mud, caking the underside of your boots, squelching as you walk. You round a corner and—

You don’t recognize this. This is new. This— no, this is wrong.

A door. Rutted, freestanding—a dark monolith.

You stutter in your sleep, a crease in your brow.

It’s just a door.

No, not here—

A door. Black wood, a brass handle. Just a door, and you’re sweating. Just a door, and you’re suffocating—you’re being smothered—like your outsides are clawing to get back in through your throat and it’s sucking you in—this door, it’s just a door, it’s just a—closer, nearer, looming taller overhead—

You gasp awake, clutching at the scratchy blanket drenched cold with your sweat. Your rasps echo against the hull, sharp pants scraping the hollow metal, and you bring a hand to your chest—steadying, steadying, the fear of your racing heart.

You sit up, throwing your legs over the edge of the cot, and rake a shaky hand through your hair—the damp of the strands sticking to the nape of your neck. Your breathing evens out, tampering, with your forearms braced on the plats of your thighs; the rise and fall of your breasts against your sleep shirt quiet until you’ve stilled.

You roll off the bed, the aluminum frame whining with the shift, and you knock a knee into one of the carbonite pods as you stumble out of the storage room—your bedroom, now.

You couldn’t handle much more of it. You bought a bedroll the first planet you stopped to refuel at after Bajic, hermitting yourself away into the bowels of his ship. It was the only smidgen of untapped real estate left in the Crest, and it was far be it from you to complain about location. You were just thankful to be out of that copilot’s chair—no amount of bacta could unwind the knots in your neck after sleeping there night after restless night.

So you bunked with the bounties Mando had brought in, like one big macabre slumber party—the chrome slabs slotted up - watchful - in their chambers.

You try not to spare it much thought.

Padding through the Crest, soft bare feet leaving crescents on the steel deck, you step into the fresher to splash water on your face, jolting you back into the present and out of the nightmare, out of—

Just a door.

No—

You towel off, patting yourself dry. Inhaling, your lungs expand with the massive rush of air, and you hold it there until it hurts, until it prickles the corners of your eyes, and finally - deliberately - you release.

You look into the mirror.

You blink. She blinks back.

///

You make breakfast now.

It’s not something you both agreed to, it’s just something you do. Funny, how quickly you adapt to new normals, to new routines. You have rituals now—you two. You make breakfast, and you leave a bowl for him out on the counter before you slip into the shower. When you get out, the bowl is empty and the dishes are washed clean, drying face down on a rag. You smile. You never speak of it. Like ivy crawling up cobbled walls towards the sun, it happens— without prompt or feed, it simply is.

///

Nevarro reminds you of Dallenor—the craggy blandness of it, the endless black sands—and you fight the urge to hate it solely based on this principal alone.

You stay on the ship with the little one while Mando goes into town, meeting with some Greef Karga character to sew up Guild business. You have no idea how he ever managed to get any hunting done with the kid always acting up, pulling hijinks and inciting anarchy. He’s nearly torn the whole place to shreds. How such a tiny body can produce such a massive wake of damage is a mystery you will never solve.

You make yourself watch.

You force your jaw, set and held, as Karga’s men haul the quarries out of the ship, hovering eerily down the ramp.

X’elo, the smuggler from Vohai, some two-bit thief, and a woman Mando caught before you met, all parading single file out of the Crest like a funeral procession. They’re criminals, each and every one—they’re violent and they’ve done terrible, irredeemable things—but they’re people, too.

And isn’t that what makes it all so cruel. So sad.

The least you can do is give them an ounce of dignity before they’re subjected to their fate— however harsh, however fair.

So, you watch.

Maybe they don’t deserve it—they’re here by their own hand, after all, a bed of their own making— and maybe they haven’t earned it back any. But perhaps it’s less about what you can offer them and more about what you refuse to let the galaxy take. Because don’t you deserve to stay unfragmented? Complete? Would you rather be robbed of this humanity, your sense of decency—have it stolen from you?

Doesn’t it cost you nothing to be kind?

You pray neither sound nor fury will strip you of this—this open-eyed tenderness. You beg that you remain, undistilled, despite despite despite.

///

You’re so much more relaxed now then when you first came on board. You were as quiet as a church mouse then, tip toeing around the ship like you were afraid you’d ruin her.

Din will never admit it, but you even managed to get the jump on him once or twice—appearing exactly when and where he least expected. And he didn’t - couldn’t have - he didn’t expect you.

This.

And he looks at you now: lit by lamplight—the kerosene filament flickering warm in the dark hull— slotted back and humming to yourself as you swipe a finger over a holopad, feet propped up on a crate by the table, and it all looks organic. Right.

The drink in your hand, sloshing against the amber jug, no doubt eases your mood. You’re drinking it right from the bottle. He thinks it’s fucking charming.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Maker above,” you hiss, startling a foot out of your seat. You shoot him an accusatory glare, but there’s no malice in it—there’s laughter ringing around your eyes.

Honestly, that man needs a bell on him.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he comments dryly, stepping past.

You move your legs from their perch and sit a little straighter. “You- you could join me,” you chime, “if you want.”

His feet slow until he’s stopped completely and he pans over his shoulder to you. You can’t read his expression—it’s steel all the way through— but you think you feel the air around you both quiver - shudder - with something unspoken, something kinetic.

The scrape of the chair as he pulls it out from the table is deafening, the thunk of his metal body sinking into it even louder.

“What are you reading?” Mando asks.

You cast him a sheepish smile. “CoreWorld News.”

“Anything good?”

Your mouth twists, biting the inside of your cheek. “Never.”

He huffs a breathy chuckle.

There didn’t seem to be any good news anymore. You forage for it—scouring the net for just a whiff of it, of something pure. There is plenty of greatness left in the world, but you find that what it lacks most is goodness— humble and precious. More often than not, you come up empty and disappointed—but never so dissuaded that you do not search again the next day, and the day after that, and after that and after that again.

“How’d it go with Karga?” you ask, setting the holopad down and switching off the display.

“Fine. Good.”

“Good,” you smile. He’s terse—sparse. You think it’s endearing now—vexing too, without a doubt, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive anymore.

“Nothing close to Coruscant yet. More outer rim chaavla,” he grits out, swallowing. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a tickle of bemusement in your voice and a quirk to your chin. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I know you want to get back.”

You hope the glow from the lantern in the galley is dim enough to camouflage the tinge sprung on your cheeks. The truth is becoming more and more clear to you, whether you like it or not: with each passing day, you want to go back to Coruscant less and less. You have to—you know you have to. You have your career, your whole life, waiting for you. But—

But.

“You told me it would take a while—longer than I’d like.”

“I know.”

“I’m happy to be here— I-I’m grateful,” you catch yourself.

He clenches his fist under the table, beyond your line of sight, gnarled tight into a ball. It tethers him down, anchoring him in place—because if he weren’t, fuck, he’d fly out of his seat so fast—

“Alright,” he chokes out.

“Alright,” you smile, glassy.

There’s a kind of mist encircling you two, an incense of a sort, intoxicating and sinewy and lulling you into a hushed calm. It’s thick around you - lush - and you can feel it settle like lead behind your eyes.

“Can I pour you a drink—for later?”

It’s late into the evening, well beyond the hour where the lines of decorum blur. You’ve crossed into the Other—that tarred, limber undertow. Dangerously weightless and free. The liminality between here and there— that twilight place.

Shadows bounce along the walls. Your outline—his too.

“I’d like that.”

///

You’re not as tipsy as you could be, but you’re less sober than you’d like.

Subconsciously, buried somewhere deep, you’re aware that Mando is humoring you and that you should let him get on with his night—but you don’t.

You’ll be annoyed at yourself later for this.

“Okay okay, what are your hobbies?”

A deadpan tilt of his helmet. “I—I don’t understand the question.”

You gape at him, your bottom lip glossed as it parts, plush and wet, and you laugh. “Hobbies,” you reiterate. “You know, stuff you like to do? For fun?”

You see the gears under that helm wheel and spin. It shouldn’t take anyone this long. The question is basic and the answer should be relatively immediate—but Mando has to mull it over. In all of his cycles, as hardened as they’ve been, he hasn’t been gifted the luxury of leisure - fun - and he hasn’t been afforded the time to dwell on the lack of it.

Selfless, without a moment of ownership to himself. This is the way.

“I-,” he pauses, mouth clamping shut. “Skip.”

“Fine, fine,” you tut. “What is... your favorite planet?”

Din stretches back, his beskar groaning against the chair.

All the planets he’d visited were out of necessity—out of demand and credit, never because he wanted to be there and certainly never out of favor. They were tainted—made insipid and unremarkable by the quarries he chased to them.

But there is one in particular that stands out; he remembers a planet the kid seemed to like—how he babbled the whole time, slung in the satchel at his hip, entranced and enthralled. He was on his best behavior, too—the little womp rat didn’t even try to stuff his tiny, wrinkled face with anything. Not once.

“Adega.”

“Adega,” you repeat, testing the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it. What’s it like?”

He draws in a long breath, his ribs yawning against the corset of his armor.

He should’ve gotten up by now—fuck, he shouldn’t have ever sat down in the first place. It’s not like he didn’t have anything to do; he needs to downshift the Crest’s power converters, switch off the shield projectors, chart a course to his next job, get some damn sleep if he’s lucky…

But you’re here before him. You’re here and he can’t deny you—not when you’re looking at him like that, like the sun shines out from his fucking face—far softer, far kinder than he deserves. Not when you’re here now, and you won’t be for much longer.

He’s racing against the clock—the swinging inevitability of it. Each moment he shares with you, is a moment that brings him closer to taking you back.

Din is a fool. He knows he’ll lose. He races anyways.

“It’s a water planet—mostly ocean,” he begins.

You allow your eyes to dip close, savoring the description, and you tuck your legs up to fold over themselves.

“But there are islands. Some are small, private—with red trees that go all the way to the sand. Others have whole cities on them.”

You remain quiet - patient - like marble, chiseled and sanded as thin as chiffon, veiling over your face in fine, cascading sheets. Transparent - ethereal - you listen to him blind, letting his words guide your sight.

“The kid-"

Your tongue darts out over your lip and he stutters. Din has to shift his hips, relieving the growing heat that’s tightening below his waist.

“T-The uh, the kid loved it. I’d never seen him like that. The bogwing didn’t want to leave,” he chuckles. He conjures the details he thinks you want—the details he thinks you might like most. “The people are honest—generous. The days are long, and the nights are warm.”

He’s no poet, but it doesn’t bother you.

“I can see it,” you say, before blinking your eyes open. "I'll have to go some time." There’s pink on your cheeks, seeping past your jaw and below the neckline of your shirt to the swallow of your breasts.

You look at him— he looks at you.

A noise hums from somewhere inside the ship.

“Are you scared of anything?” you murmur.

Mando lets a beat pass.

“I don’t think so. Not yet.” You smile at that—small, wistful. You’re not even sure why. “You?” he asks.

Your chest rises with a deep inhale. “I used to be scared of dying. I thought I was gonna die young. I was convinced—I had dreams about it all the time as a kid.”

But maybe that’s not it entirely. Maybe it’s not the fear of dying itself, but the dread of living and dying alone. And isn’t that at the heart of it—at all of this?

I just don’t want to do this all on my own.

He’s never been privy to this version of you—this sloping tone, the liquor buzzing through your speech, churning your words to treacle. You sound nonchalant in way that’s jarring, as if you aren’t talking about death— the fear of your own tenuous mortality.

“But I bet everyone does,” you continue dismissively, “just one of those things.”

He’s almost cautious when he replies. “I’m not sure they do.”

Your expression contorts, knotting for an agonizing moment—until the tension all but disappears. “Huh,” you shrug flippantly, and take a swig. That heaviness, that fog, dissipates nearly as soon as it arrived. “Anyways, favorite color?”

He rolls his eyes; you can see it in the way he tilts his head to you. Really, he seems to say, how old are we?

“You’re right, you’re right— that’s low brow. I can do better…” You melodramatically tap your chin, eyeing him pensively.

“Okay. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That,” you nod to his pauldron, “that symbol on your shoulder.”

Tawny fingertips trace absentmindedly over the emblem. “It’s a Mudhorn. It’s-” Mando hesitates, before his hand returns to his lap. “It’s the sigil of my clan.”

You arch your brow. “I didn’t realize you had a clan— is it- is it like, big?” Stars, you sound dumb—and there’s no excuse. You’re not even that drunk. “How- what is a clan, exactly?”

“In Mandalorian culture, your clan is your family. Aliit. Mine, it’s—it’s a clan of two.”

Something in the pit of you stirs, a sickly warmth, pulling at your gut like a rope. You glance over to where the child sleeps, snuggled away in his pram and your lips curl into a smile, hidden behind the bottle you bring to them.

“You’re lucky to have each other,” you say gently, taking another sip.

“We almost didn’t—shouldn’t have.”

His hands tense into his legs—the creak of leather against his thigh plates is audible even from where you sit.

You narrow your eyes curiously. He heaves.

“He was a bounty and I did my job. I turned him in. I went back for him, but—the kid, he saved my life, and I could’ve left him there—I would’ve, before.”

It all comes out like tires grinding through gravel, bruised and roughened. It’s regret, you realize—this is the sound of guilt, frigid and rued, pushing through his modulator. It makes you want to reach out to him, put your hand on his, comfort him, reassure him—something. But you can’t. He’s too far away. He’s on his own sea—untouchable.

You decide it right then and there: you can’t bare that sound, the wracked timbre of it. You hate it. You think you’d do anything to rid the way in constricts his throat—makes him hoarse and clipped, even through the guise of his helmet. It pains you, a visceral stabbing, right to your core. You could go a lifetime without hearing it, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

“But you didn’t,” you offer.

“No,” he utters. “No, I didn’t.”

Mando gives you these tortuous, beautiful previews of himself. Like light passing through stained glass, you sneak brief glimpses of the paintings there, the stories and fables and the lessons they teach, until some great cloud drifts past, blotting out the sun, and all goes dark again.

You know this is rare. You know you’ll be home soon. You know to cherish it—to relish what he gives, when he gives it, if he gives it at all.

But—you want more. You’re a simple woman, at the end of all things: all you want is to hold him.

“I think you’re a better man than you let on, Mando.” There’s a knowing twinkle in your eye, a coy lilt to your loosened tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were flirting.

“You don’t know that,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have my suspicions." You're smirking something awful - deadly - as it sears into him.

He grunts, flames licking up his chest. Din has to bite back his grin, making careful it doesn’t shape the sound of his vowels; grateful for the helmet that buffers him, the mask that seals him away into anonymity, into apathy.

If he can convince you, maybe he can convince himself too. Maybe.

“Next question, dala.”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting.

///

Your eyes are blown wide, gawking at him.

“I’m not a medic, Mando—I’m not a fucking surgeon!”

Mando crashes through the Razor Crest, red dollops trailing in pools behind him. He grunts, hand pressed to his side, blood pushing out of the gash that’s torn into him— a canyon down his unplated body, spewing angry and insistent with each spasm of his heart.

With a broad stroke, he sweeps the clutter off the table and onto the floor, spraying across the deck.

“Medkit,” he barks, hoisting himself up to lie, hulking and pained, out on the slab. You scamper to it, ripping it off the wall, and return to his lumbering body. His breathing is labored—he’s forcing it, seething it out.

Mando’s legs bend off the table at an uncomfortable angle and he rasps when you crane them up by his booted ankles – fuck, he’s heavy – to situate a small crate under his feet. They drop with a dulled thud— without muscle, without resistance. The languid weight of a dying man.

You’re stationed beside him, medkit spilled open. “W-What now, what do you need?”

“I need you,” you heard him say, deep and bassy, as he ascended the ramp. With a colossal drum of your heart, you spun around - I need you - a blush stippling your jaw. The pregnant expectation built behind weeks and weeks of stalemates and stolen glances - I need you - all rearing to a head here and now and finally, finally something—until you saw him, doubled over, bracing himself on the wall, a line of blood smearing behind his palm.

“Bacta-“ Mando wheezes, “bacta shot.”

You rifle through the supplies, littering them as you dig through the box.

Sure, you had gotten your first aid certification with the Movement—it was required, and you retook the courses every few cycles. But that was gauze wrappings and mouth-to-mouth and anti-inflammatory tablets—that was not this, and this is fucking surgery. You’re out of your depth—and Mando must be out of his damn mind.

“I nee-“ He inhales sharply, and his body spasms, gripping the ledge of the table like a vice. “My chest plate—take it off.”

He’s told you bits and parcels of the Mandalorian way—of his Creed— and you aren’t under the impression that this would be strictly sanctioned.

“M-Mando, I thought— are you sure?”

“Yes I’m kriffing sure—do it. Just do it,” he snaps. He hates this—he fucking hates this. Soft. Weak—weak weak weak, he’s so fucking weak. Laandur.

You fumble over the armor, uncoordinated as you unclasp it from his cuirass and Mando strangles out a sigh as soon as it leaves him. At last, you fish the shot from the medkit and hold it up to the light, the medicine like venom as it whirls in the tube. It’s uncomfortably large—simply holding it makes you squirm.

“W-What is that?”

Your eyes flit over the needle and then back to the bounty hunter. “What do you mean ‘what is that’? It’s a shot.”

“That’s a lance,” he growls.

“It’s ebacta-”

“It’s green!” he hisses out incredulously.

“It’s all they had!” you bite back, panic skipping through your veins.

You’re practically yelling at each other, the tension winding and coiling tighter and higher as the seconds tick by. You feel each one, tapping along your vertebra like a metronome, keeping time, keeping time, wasting time—all this back and forth is a waste of time and—

You’re nervous—you’re fucking terrified—and Mando doesn’t frequent this position either—this vulnerability. He doesn’t know what to do with it, where he belongs in it. I need you, he said. He hadn’t needed anyone before and now look at him, bare breasted before you, wounded and mewling like roadkill.

You rap the needle with a knuckle, banishing the air pocket, and test the plunger. Droplets of liquid spurt from the tip, and he begins to rile.

“Dala,” he warns.

“Mando,” you mimic.

“Nu draar-”

“Do you want my help or not?” you spit out, and he shrinks, visor trained on the jab, that unnatural chartreuse swirling inside the glass vial. “Okay. Okay, on three.”

“Wait, wait-"

“One..." You try to sound firm - competent - but you’re a fucking mess. Your breathing is erratic, tunic soiled with sweat, and you’re trembling.

“You don’t-“

“Two...”

Mando huffs exasperatedly, “Ah, fuck it-”

“Three.”

You drive the syringe down, stabbing into him. His body seizes—flexing rigid—as soon as the viscous gel is injected, oozing oozing oozing until it’s pumped empty and spent.

And then— nothing.

All that whirlwinded frenzy, that raging tempest, and now silence— dead silence. He lays there motionless, fidgeting ceased, that ungodly needle pitched like a flag pole from his chest.

… Shit.

“Hey,” you touch a hand to his shoulder.

The smug bastard could be having a laugh under that helmet and you’d have no idea. That’s what you tell yourself—that’s what you’d prefer to believe anyways; it’s better than the alternative, better than—than than than fuck—

“Hey, this isn’t funny...” A little rougher now, you jostle him. He doesn’t react.

“… Mando?”

His head lolls to the side.

With a whistle, the room goes mute. Sound and oxygen alike, it all gets vacuumed out, and your senses invert. You can hear every tick of your body: the bone of your jaw as your teeth mash together, the pulse at your wrist, your stammering heart beating beating beating in your inner ear, the bob of your trachea as it grates against your neck.

Kriff. You killed him—you killed the Mandalorian.

Oh Maker, oh shit-

You press down around the puncture site with a wide palm before yanking the syringe out, flinging it away. You’re shaking him now, wrestling with his limp body, and you’re shouting—croaked with worry, with fear.

“Fuck, Mando—Mando!"

The sound is like glass shattering.

He gasps wildly, gulping down air as if he’d been drowned, writhing like the undead from your operating table. You buckle over him, fatigued and slumped, and cry out in blessed relief.

Your instincts, those poor frail nerves, tell you to smack him—but given that he’s bleeding out, you refrain.

“Don’t do that to me!” you exclaim, breathy and strained.

“Don’t do that to you?” Mando retorts, panting. You let out a weak crackle of laughter and he moans. It’s like he’s been hit by a speeder - twice - forward and then reversed over again.

“Maker, what did you give to me?”

“I got it on Vohai. They uhm- they said it was good quality-“

“And you believed them?”

Your mouth twists shyly. “I-I wanted to believe them,” you correct him.

It’s his turn to laugh now, tired and raw. Oh, you sweet little thing.

You swallow, saliva coating your ragged windpipe. “I’m sorry—Maker, I’m so sorry, a-are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, gargled, “but remind me never to have you save my life again.”

That earns him a light slap to his arm. If he’s well enough to dole cheap shots, you figure he’s fit enough to take yours too. He’s spliced open, whole chunks of him missing, and he still has the wherewithal to be an ass.

“Well, you’re not out of the woods just yet.”

///

Regrettably, Mando might have been spot on about the bacta—in fact, you’re starting to question whether it’s really bacta at all.

A delirious grunt ripples through the bounty hunter’s modulator as you cut open his ripped flight suit, careful not to slice him with the vibroblade. His black undershirt is matted to his gaping wound, the blood bubbled over and through the rough material, and you have to peel the fibers out of his coagulating flesh to get to it. You toss the fabric into the bucket next to you with a sloppy, wet plop.

It didn’t even occur to you. You were so swept away by the state of him—by the dizzying carnival of it all as soon as Mando breached the Crest—you didn’t consider the fact that you’d be seeing him. Touching him.

You have to mask your expression when you meet his skin for the first time. He’s golden—he’s golden everywhere—like desert sand dunes sizzling under ripe, afternoon suns—dappled with memories of violence, branded into him.

You’ve never heard him like this. He keeps noising these feverish little nothings— gasping, moaning in a language you don’t recognize—and you do your best to distract him. It’s one of the tenets you recall from your aid training: keep them talking, keep them sharp—engaged.

“Do each of these have a story?” you ask, eyeing the marks that riddle and pucker him.

“Some of them.”

“What about this one here?” You touch a faded ribbon of scarring. It’s older than the others—paler. Your fingertips are cool and he blazes beneath them.

He tries not to twitch. You try not to notice.

“Fell out of a tree when I was a kid—haven’t thought about that in a while,” Mando pants. “B-Broke my wrist, got scraped to shit— my buir, m-my mother, she chewed my ear off.”

“Mm, I bet she did,” you smirk—you can relate to the feeling.

“I-I remember the lines around her eyes. H-Her eyes— they were green, bright green— jade.”

He lets out a wince as you swipe a disinfectant soaked rag over him. You cringe and flash him an apologetic look.

“Sounds beautiful,” you muse, a quiet smile pulling at you as your deft fingers work. “Did you get her pretty eyes too, Mando?”

Something is caught in his throat— a chuckle, or a cough more likely. “No, they’re brown. Just brown.”

Your whole body locks.

Just brown.

Two words - just brown - and suddenly you’re rich— full to the brim with him.

And fuck, if it doesn't feels like a gift. Like he gathered something precious and laid it in your arms and said here, you can have this now. We can share. Sometimes you forget that there’s a man under all those layers; a man— a warm blooded, tanned skin, brown eyed man. You hadn’t often wondered what the Mandalorian was hiding under his armor—he was so finite, so unmovable, the mask he wore became him. He was beskar - indistinguishably - through and through.

But that was before. And now you’re blinded with him— with all the details you cannot unsee.

“S-She was the last person to take care of me—like this.”

It comes over you so suddenly, you’re taken aback by it: that knee-jerking gut wrench. And not because there’s heartbreak in his voice, but because there isn’t. Because he’s had to be so invulnerable—so unyielding and invincible for so long—that he doesn’t even realize what he’s without.

And you, if only for a silly, naïve moment, wish you could give it back to him. Every little ounce of goodness that he’s been deprived of—to dip into his time stream, and rewrite.

To plant but a seed of it there, even if you don’t stay long enough to see it’s harvest.

“Tell me more about her,” you say.

And beyond expectation, beyond reason, he does.

///|||///

This—this is wrong.

He feels pulpy - soggy - wrong. He’s more liquid than he should be—there’s nothing solid about him now. He’s swept away in the tide of it—this green current charging through him and he let’s go - what is there to hold onto anyways? - floating belly up on his back.

Din spills—like the aperture split into his side, he gushes. Whatever dam he’s forged around himself, the beskar and duracrete there, cracks.

The stream trickles until he floods and like any good story, he starts from the beginning.

He tells you of home—his first home. Aq Vetina.

You’re plucking spikes and nettle from his side, and he barely feels it—all he has is this sinking, unending wet—and they hit the tray with dull plunks, punctuated and staccatoed.

He tells you of the adobe dwellings and the domes and columns. Marketplace canopies and caravan bazaars.

plunk

The oak trees, the willow bark, the spires he’d climb until the sun set.

plunk

The tall mountains and the dry, rubbled earth. Of the nameless neighbor children he played with, kicking a ball through the dirt. Red robes trailing, fraying.

plunk

His mother. The shawl she wore. The copper of his father’s ring. The herbs she grew by the light from their kitchen window. How he held her hand while they sat by the fire.

plunk

His tongue doesn’t belong to him—it wags numb and supple. He’s lost his sense of direction, unbound by north or south, and these words are simply happening to him. They keep happening and happening and escaping and—

It’s not just the off-bacta speaking for him, making him pliant. He wants this. He wants to bend—he wants to bend for you.

And now there’s no stopping it—there’s no breaking this, no halting it's downhill momentum. Din describes the attack, the heat of the fire as his town - his world - burned down, of his parents concealing him—a child, abandoned and bunkered away in a cellar to live or die with or without them— being rescued by the Death Watch and raised as a Mandalorian himself.

Your bandaging has long since finished, but you remain, hovering over him as you listen—listen as the jigsawed shards of his life stitch themselves together. Like a moth to a flame, you are drawn in and in and in, until you’re butted against the wick of it. Inseparable.

When the well of his words runs dry, neither of you go to move. Pin-drop silence envelops you. Your hands still on his chest, palms like a weighted quilt—warming him, securing him. He feels-

He feels safe.

“Mando,” you murmur, and the epithet has never sounded so fucking sacred, whispered from you like a prayer. You cripple him; the web of concern along your brow, the sheen in your eyes, the breathy part of your lips.

His throat has gone dry and he shakes his head left right, beskar grating against the makeshift gurney. Mando. No. No, that’s not right—that’s not who he is, that’s not who he wants you to know.

He draws his hand up—it’s so fucking heavy, he can barely lift it—but he tries, he tries, he wants to. You’re right here, you’re touching his chest and you’re healing his body—his mind too, if he’d only let you—and if he could just get to you. If he could just lace his fingers with yours—would you let him? Should you?

“M-My name-"

A warbled wail from the kid’s alcove rips through the cradling hush, and you both react immediately, lurching up to tend to the child. Din forgets—he hears his foundling and his reason leaves him—and he flinches with a grimace. You urge him down, steadying him with a pointed look.

“Rest.”

It’s a command, there’s no question to it, and it’s teeming with all of these unrecognizable concepts— care and assurance, worry and compassion. So impossible to disobey in the way that gentle things are—too soft and too right to say no to. He relents - gives - helmet thudding when it connects back with the table.

Din, he pleads, desperate for you to read his mind. Like a mantra, his subconscious rambles it on a drug addled figure-eight, coming around only to repeat itself again, infinite and wanting. Din Din Din-

Only when the child’s cries muffle into hiccups and his hiccups slur into coos does he let his exhaustion get the better of him. There was too much—it was an assault from all fronts. The blood loss, the drugs, his life like a monsoon as it crushed him open. And all it took was a wound, a brush with his mortality, for him to surrender it to you.

He turns his head, searching for you through the blur of his vision. You’re there in the doorway, rocking his boy in your arms, haloed with light.

I need you, he said. I need you I need you I need you I need-

Din’s eyes shut.

He doesn’t dream. He sleeps like the dead, blissful and undisturbed.

///

You spend hours scrubbing the deck on all fours, spine hunched and aching, cleaning scarlet off silver steel. It got everywhere, the splatter of it—even on the surfaces Mando didn’t come in contact with. The smell of blood, that nickel musk, it lingers long after its welcome—long after the stain of it, the stain of him, has vanished from the Crest. From your skin.

At some point during the night you nod off next to him, curled over a crate, and when you wake Mando is gone—presumably back to his quarters but gone all the same. All traces of him gone - expunged - and the ship feels hollow and gaping— a sterile Mando shaped hole in his absence. You follow his lead, retreating to your bed for a few more hours of sleep.

The next morning doesn’t go as you’d like.

You weren’t sure if he would remember any of it—of what he confided, of what he almost confessed— but by the way the tension ferments between you, you can only assume he does.

They go through their routines, stilted as they are.

He’s up early— unnecessarily early. Mando goes to the cockpit to rouse the ship, plugging in the coordinates from his tracking fob to chase after the escaped bounty. Thrusters set. Repulorlifts and auxiliary engines engaged. Deflector shield generator on. Weapons check. Atmospheric pressure regulator switched.

He’s slower, you note— his movements are crawled—with only half the feline agility he typically possesses and you want to tell him to sit, to take a break—to get off his damn feet and to let you help him—that it’s okay if he rests. That he can take time for himself. That it doesn’t make him any less of a Mandalorian—any less of a man.

But, you can’t.

And so the day is pulled taut like this—a bowed string ready to snap, chalked full of false starts and tinny stoicism. A sharp, intentional air of avoidance with every action. They were out of step, out of sync, and it reminds you of the first days you’d spent on the Razor Crest, orbiting each other—planets apart.

Because he’s shared too much. You knocked, Din answered. He opened the door and he let you past and now he has nowhere left to go but inwards. He’s cornered with no exit strategy - no option - but to close back up again and furl in on himself like a fern in the dark. Curling - evaporating - until he’s nothing but armor—nothing but mirrored edges and metal plates.

But—

you still made his breakfast and he still washed your dishes—and maybe that is enough.

///

You pass each other in the corridor, as you have done before.

You smile gently—soft as sin— and it breaks him, like it always does.

You have a hand on the rung of the ladder when he calls your name, and you turn to him, bright eyed.

“Thank you,” he rasps, “I never thanked you.”

He’s so strikingly sincere— standing there, arms dangling stiff by his sides. He looks different now, somehow— different, but the same. Fuller, bigger—smaller, too.

Human, you realize.

Your heart flutters in your chest. “Of course, Mando-“

“Din.”

You forget to breath. Time forgets to move.

“My name is Din.”

///

Din. Din Djarin.

It takes you almost a week to say it—to even utter the syllable aloud—and you only ever risk it when he’s gone on a hunt and you know you’re alone.

“You like it when I touch you like this?” you hear him say, the fabricated echo of his voice in your skull. He’s got two fingers in you—you can envision them now, clear and potent, the golden hide of them—and he moves slow as he takes you right to the edge, dancing dastardly along that cliff side before retracting himself and backing off. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s smirking; you can feel it in his fingertips, how they mock you—how they scorch into you and leer.

Even in your fantasy, he’s a prick.

“You like it when I make you cum on this filthy fucking cot?”

You keen into your hand, whimpering into your bitten raw lips. The scene is playing on without you now, writing itself. All you can do is lay here and take it, succumb to it, starved and desperate and vile as you thrash on your bedroll.

You rove your palm over your chest—

He snakes up your shirt, twisting your nipple until it’s peaked and perked under him, until you yelp with that muddled jolt of pleasure and pain. He’s lazy and fitfully unhurried, each movement sauntered and proud. He’s coaxing it out of you, this orgasm, as he kneels over you, your vision flooded with the cold menace of his beskar. Finally, tortuously, he traces his thumb over your clit, toying with you in small circles until you’re shaking—vibrating, every molecule of you—like you’re going to burst, incinerate there in your bed. He’s urgent now, demanding, and thrusting into your swollen cunt and the pressure mounting in your heat swells until, until, oh my st-

You fuck your fingers until they prune, drenched with the thought of him teasing you, stuffing you full with anything he’ll give you; his hands, his cock—Maker, his tongue. You let it roll around your mouth when you touch yourself like this in the dark belly of the ship—heels digging into your thin mattress, knees steepled together—and you’re panting, wanton and velvet, before a fist shoots up to muffle the moaned name wafting from your lips like smoke.

“Din”

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @miranhas-art @djarrex @djarinsbeskar @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #mando x female oc #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x female oc #din djarin x female oc #din djarin smut #King of Cups #pedro pascal #fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #slow burn #smut

[itstheimpossibledream]

Only A Play

Part 5 

Word Count: 2213

Pairing: AU Henry x FemBlack!Reader

Warning:  Smut, Angst, Some fluff

Summary:  Can reader & Henry work out their differences or will they be better apart? Breakup sex? Idk it’s the finale let me know what you think!

“ and that’s when I packed my things and came to New York.” Henry finishes.

 You’d been looking down at your hands, trying not to get lost in his features while he spoke, knowing the tabloids would make a day out of it. Angling the photograph and captioning it something cheesy about ‘love being in the air’ or the fact that you’re ‘just in time for Valentine’s Day’. The dating speculations you could take but, the photographic evidence that made your mom ask questions was a different story entirely.Since the show had opened the two of you toured from interview to interview and then performed at night. The day usually culminating in a needy fuck at his apartment or in your dressing room if he couldn’t wait. You stayed at his place often and while it was still mostly in booty-call  territory, (despite the previous year of apartment crashing and drunk declarations of love) the dinners and breakfasts remained consistent. You answered the interviewer’s questions calmly but,nothing could have prepared you for the final follow up. He turns to Henry, “And so aside from your new relationship(he motions to you),have you made any other friends during your time in New York?” He only hesitated slightly,before answering. He smirks but,the curve of his lip is gone before you know it. “I have really enjoyed working with her, and I hope our artistic relationship will flourish long after this production has ended.” he smiles diplomatically while reaching for your hand.“As far as new friends I believe my doorman Jason and I have gotten pretty close.” he laughs. When he laughs, the whole world laughs with him and the audience is no exception.Eventually , the hours of embarrassment have passed and you’re being rushed back into a cab to Henry’s apartment. 

“So what was that?” you say as he closes the door, sliding into the car behind you. 

“What?” he asks blissfully unaware of your annoyance. 

“That whole continuing relationship thing?”you push.

“I said artistic relationship.” he corrected sternly.

 “ You gave them ammo.” you cut back quickly.

“And so what? Two people in a romantic play together are speculated to date?How awful.” He grumbles. 

“You don’t get to make a choice like that before talking to me about it.”

“It wasn’t a choice, it was the truth.” he quips back sternly.

“A truth that will put the tabloids on my ass.It’s been bad since we opened the show but, you and I both know this is only going to make it worse.” you mirrored his tone, clearly losing your cool at the idea of being followed to your apartment by cameras. 

“Well you can stay with me as long as you need.” He says, firmly setting his jaw.You roll your eyes towards the window, Watching the people who pass by. 

“So, this is what it was about? control ?”

“Please!” He scoffs “I don’t need the paparazzi holding your apartment hostage,to get you to stay at my place.You’re practically there every night anyway.” It comes out sounding like more of a complaint than he had meant for it to. Your blood boils with resentment of his comfortability.You can feel the heaviness in your eyes when the car pulls up to his ‘flat’. A term you had started using sarcastically but had slowly begun to stick. Even now, you despised that while being a convenient fuck , he had permeated your subconscious enough to make you even think to refer to it as a flat. 

“What’s on your mind?” he finally asked, breaking the silence that had been holding court in the elevator. He didn’t sound like he really wanted to know, infact he seemed like he was solely asking for courteous purposes and that was it. You turned your entire body to face him, you could feel that no matter how hard you were trying your face had begun to break. 

“You know, you were right. There’s no reason for me to be here.” your lips upturned in a smile as you saw the glassyness of your eyes reflected in his face. It was an odd pain , not one you could name but, one you knew without a doubt was real. You had shared something special, he knew that. But, anyone could see that the lack of compatibility outside of the bedroom left the relationship forever doomed.He rolled his tongue between his lips and you couldn’t help but think of how blissful the silence was between you two. Someone had to say it, and in true fashion Henry was not strong enough. 

“ What are you talking about?!” He followed behind you into the hallway as you fled the elevator, opening the door to the apartment.

“We aren’t compatible Henry. You don’t get me. My lifestyle, my friends,my choices; you think it’s all a fucking joke or something. Well, it’s not,It’s not a fucking joke.It’s my real life. I know we play and talk about how much money you make but when it comes down to it I’ve never seen you put a red cent to helping anyone else. But, you watch me tithe everything I earn to give back to the communities that raised me. If you wanted to be with me, like really wanted to be with me,you would have already invested yourself in the things I find important. Instead, what you do is stand on red carpet at a black, trans fundraising gala and steal the attention once again.”

“I thought you were mad about the interview, now you’re mad about the gala?!?”

“I’m mad about all of it!” you screamed directly into his beautifully manicured face. Not an eyelash out of place and yet he still couldn’t contend with the neatening of his moral compass. 

“I’m mad because you center yourself in any safe space for people of color I take you to.I’m mad because you don’t ask for my opinion or consent before doing anything, because you don’t care.Actually, I’m not even mad anymore.I just see it for what it is.”The tears had started to slowly flow now, and while your pride kept you from full on sobs,a total breakdown was on it’s way without a doubt. You removed your bag from your shoulder,sitting it in the chair by the door and headed to your bedroom. You had graduated from the guest bedroom, to mostly staying in Henry’s bed with him, a convenience thing really. 

“And what is it?” he asked , finally unable to continue being berated by you.

“A mistake.” you said calmly, what had to be mere minutes felt like passing hours, the two of you standing there, looking at eachother, seeing the relationship for what it was. 

He spoke first.

“I love you.” his baritone timbre you had become so accustomed to sounded far away, you questioned if you had even heard him clearly.

“I love you, does that not matter to you at all?”he sounded stern, almost scolding you for not immediately reciprocating his affection.

“It’s not real Hen.” you said between tears “Someone who loves me, wouldn’t need me to explain all the ways his privilege consistently harms me. I wouldn’t have to ask him to donate to causes I’m passionate about, causes I’ve devoted my whole life to getting fundraising for. Someone who loves me would not make party conversation about how their black girlfriend has to sleep with a bonnet on.” He was silent,now. He stepped towards you, closing the void of misunderstanding.

“I'm sorry that I ever made you feel as though you aren’t the most important thing in the world to me.” He kissed your forehead, and then on the top of your head. 

He whispered into your hair but, you could feel his voice reverberating  through your curls.

“Can we not fight tonight ?” You exhaled, relaxing the weight of your body into his. You didn’t have to fight anymore because you heard his answer loud and clear. He didn’t want to fight because he couldn’t.  He could not think of something important enough to cause him discomfort,couldn’t think of anything worth his unhappiness. He placed his hands on either side of your face, pulling you in for a kiss. You kissed him back slowly, making up your mind to give in to your emotions for one last time. A spark went through your body as you felt his hands trail their way over your curves. You tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt and he quickly obliged,pulling it over his head. He lightly pushes you towards the bed and when he rolls ontop of you it feels more like a safety net than a sexual maneuver. Even as he undresses you, slowly, kissing over your body. He touches you so gently,assigning value to every square inch of your skin.Before long he’s looking into your eyes as he thrusts into you, rutting his way  inside you of.Your breath hitches as you begin to synchronize your breathing with his, becoming one, breathing as one whole. He held the backs of your knees, pushing them up further into your chest.You cried out at the depth of the new angle and he smiled, moving a hand from the back of your knee to your neck, lightly applying pressure. You loved his hand around your throat, the way his veins looked, the muscles in his arm , all of it. And he knew that, he was pulling out all of his best moves tonight. 

“You’re so bloody beautiful right now.so tight for me.” He murmured close, into your ear. 

His dirty talk alone sent you over the edge but, the added view, from this angle of his body was everything a partner could want. He moaned as he pushed into you , the result of your walls tightening around him. Your spasms brought him over the edge,as he came into you.You latched your nails onto the skin of his back, clawing for safety in his embrace. 

“I love you. I love you.”he said in between kisses as he came down from the high of physical contact. “I love you too.” you returned the words, because they were true and in that moment, nothing could have been more honest.He rolled over onto his back and you snuggled up next to him.

“I do love you” he whispers into your hair. The room is dark,aside from a sliver of light where the moon shone through the blinds. He slowly runs a hand over your hair and down your back.

“Then why haven’t I met your parents yet?” you sighed,turning your head upwards to face him.

The loudest silence of the night fell over the room, that was what made it real to him. He couldn’t deny it anymore. Even he knew, he had never invited you to visit his family, or even out to dinner when they were visiting in the states. You didn’t know if it was that he was embarrassed , or that he just didn’t know how to tell them. You weren’t even upset anymore, as much as you were resigned to the fact that you had to begin putting yourself first, to choose your needs first. And whether you wanted to admit it or not, if you were honest with yourself you knew he wasn’t the one. His brows furrowed and you could tell he was running through every possible response. His hand smoothed it’s way over your hair again and while you had resigned to the fact that it was over you couldn’t help but allow a piece of your heart to break as you saw his eyes become glassy. 

Before long he was fast asleep above you. Henry would be leaving the show, for another movie gig in two weeks but, since the  first rehearsal you hadn’t spent a day without Henry, or Kal for that matter. Sun peeked through the shades as you redressed yourself in the dark , you couldn’t be sure if this was something you wanted, or simply something you knew you had to do. You looked back at that beautiful apartment one more time,and then finally closed the door behind you. You recall the first time you entered the building, that day you had been instructed to bond as you step into the elevator. Watching the city below through the glass,a flicker of light catches your attention, then another and you realize it’s snowing. It had been a full year since the first time you had actually spoken to him. The doorman held the door for you,as you sparked your lighter. Touching the flame to the end of your cig as you stroll down the street.

#henry cavill #henrycavill smut #smut #superman #henrycavill superman #herny cavill sexy #geralt of rivia #geralt fanfic #geralt x ofc #geralt x reader #henry cavill xreader #henrycavill au #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black!female reader #henry cavill rp #henrycavill x y/n #henrycavill fandom #the cavillry #henrycavill series #henry cavill one shot #black reader smut #black reader #onlyaplay

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Call Girl.

for you Zbops... anything

part one   part two

Endevour x camgirl!Reader

wanrings: sugar daddy, sex, Mentions of drug use, choking, jealousy,  Daddy kink, mentions of cam girls and sex work. 

word count: 1,800 (about)

summary: idk this is weird and horny and doesn’t have a plot. 

“(y/n) please? Endeavor likes you he’s not going to be mean if you’re there,” Keigo whined tugging at your sleeve. You shook him off. It was true that ever since you started fucking Endeavor, he was a little bit nicer to your boss. Or to put it more accurately, he hurried your boss out of the office so the two of you could have fun. This new development certainly made your life more interesting. It added a new thrill to your live shows to know that the number one hero was watching along with all the normal people. 

Your bank account was also taking a boost from this new relationship. You had been worried Enji would try to strong-arm you into giving him more content for free. But no, Endeavor was more than happy to pay for all sorts of premium content on the side as well as compensating you for the in person time you spent together. It was almost enough money to quit your day job with Hawks and become a full time play thing for the older richer man.

“Sorry Hawks but I’m already busy tonight cleaning up after you so you’ll have to go with out me,” you huffed making him pout. “But by all means send my love to Endeavor if you think that will make him nicer somehow,” you added already imagining how that would play out. 

“There’s no way you can reschedule?” he asked for the hundredth time. a couple of photographers got a less than flattering picture of Hawks smoking a joint and if you didn’t wrangle that picture out of their cold dead hands it was your ass on the line. 

“this is an emergency Keigo, you can stand one meeting with the man now go, before you’re late,” you said shoving him out of the window, a horrible thing to do to any one except the winged hero himself. 

Endeavor did nothing to hide his disappointment when he saw you weren’t with Hawks. What was the point of dealing with the annoying blonde If you weren’t with him?

“don’t pout old man She wanted to come promise. Even told me to give you a big kiss for her,”

“Sit down,” he snapped rolling his eyes. You had been such a tease all day long, with not only a constant stream of revealing photos on your onlyfans and premium snap chat. but the personal texts about how much you missed him for the past few days where what really got to him. 

“So how long have you been fucking my secretary?” hawks asked stopping him in his tracks

“I’m married, I’m not sleeping with anyone.” Endeavor shot back. Hawks rolled his eyes

“You don’t have to lie to me, I get it. You like her because she’s hot and she likes you because of Daddy issues I just want to know if you’re like exclusive or if I still have a shot with her-”

A hot wave of jealousy hit him. He’d never felt bothered by the fact that other men were looking at you and fantasied about you but some how if it was Hawks it would be too far. 

“Do what you want with your slutty PA, I don’t touch her.” 

“Bull shit, every time we have a meeting you rush me out so you can get your nasty hands on her and you leave marks you know that? you could at least be gentle with her, Dude,” Hawks chided. He had known he’d left bruises. He liked seeing the jealous comments asking whose hand was branded on your thighs. He just hadn’t known Hawks had noticed too. He was always under estimating the number two.  

“So what if I am?” he asked. “what difference does it make to you?”

“Like I said I want to know if I have a shot with her,”

“you don’t,”

“You think so? I think I’ve got a chance if she likes Heroes,” Endeavor was going to kill him. 

You groaned leaving the restaurant. You had succeeded, but It had taken a lot out of you. You wanted to go home but as you checked your phone you saw Endeavor texted you. 

Hawks said you’d be out tonight. Come over to my office once you’re done. I don’t care how late it is. 

you smiled, you could use some stress relief right about now

on my way

Just a few moments later you were knocking on his office door. You wondered if he would be needy, something must be up, he’s never demaned you came over like this, sex was more of a heat of the moment thing. 

“Come in,” he barked.  You hadn’t even closed the door behind you before Enji was marching over to you. 

“You kept me waiting,” he growled and lifted you off the ground as easily as if you weighed nothing at all. His strength amazed you sometimes. You weren’t the lightest girl in the world but he had no trouble as he dropped you on his oak desk.

He grabbed your jaw roughly and shoved his tounge in your mouth his other hand already reaching to remove your blouse. The flames of his beard tickled your jaw as he mauled your mouth. They weren’t hot enough to burn, just warm enough to heat up your face while he trailed kisses over your body. 

Endevour had never been perticularly gentile with you per say, but now he was being especially rough. While he normally was carful not to rip your clothing so you could leave just as put together as you came in, this time he didn’t sem to care at all. Buttons flew as he tugged off your shirt and you heard ripping sounds as he unclasped your bra

“E-Enji,” you gasped as his teeth grazed the pulse point of your neck. He ignored you and kept biting down your neck. 

“you have no idea how badly I need you” he growled gnawing at your skin, He pried one of your hands off of his chest and pushed it between his legs letting you feel how much he needed you. 

You looked down and saw his aching cock through his impossibly tight hero costume, you could almost make out the veins through the taught fabric. you flattened your palm against his shaft slowly masaging his cock while he continued his assault on your torso. 

His large hands easily cupped your breasts kneading the globes of flesh roughly. He pushed you down laying your back against the desk. Enji grabbed you by the knees and pushed your legs apart forcing your skirt up around your waist. he jerked you down pressing your clothed cunt to his cock. 

His body covered yours easily as he leaned down kissing you agian, this time his lips landing on your chest, peppering your tits with marks. Enji loved his hickeys loved claiming you. if you were being honest. you liked it too. In a weird way it made you feel special. 

His hips rutted against your slowly humping your clothed sex. Both of you groaned at the friction. His hand snaked up tangling in your hair and yanking back. You cried out in pleasure as pain ripped through your scalp. You clawed at his shoulders encouraging his actions. 

“Mine,” He growled “look at me you are mine,” he stated firmly tugging on your hair again. his eyes were bright with fury.

“I don’t care how much that bird-brained fuck offers to pay you I’ll tripple it, this pussy is mine and If Hawks tries to touch you I’ll rip his head off.” He rolled his hips agian and your cunt clenched. you felt so empty, you struggled against his grasp to no avail, you desperately wanted him to fuck you already. 

“I-I don’t want to fuck Keigo,” you whimpered back in response. He pulled back ripping off your underwear before reaching to rip off his own under garments

“After tonight you won’t want anyone else,”

His cock was proportional,  just as large and intimidating as the rest of him. 

“Do you need to be stretched or are you still fucked loose from last night?” He purred teasing the head against your clit. Last night you’d done a stream again with the novelty Endeavor themed dildo and you knew no amout of stretching was going to stop this from hurting, but you welcomed the pain. 

“Just fuck me already, please Daddy I need it so much,” you moaned spreading your legs as far as you could while he was gripping your legs.  He smirked and pushed in. 

He didn’t bother going slow, you didn’t need slow pampering, you needed friction if you were going to feel better. The moment he was fully sheathed inside of you he pulled back thrusting in again.

“His pathetic prick couldn’t even compare, I wonder if you’d even feel him your cunt’s so stretched to the shape of my cock,” he growled in your ear. your eyes rolled back in your head as he pounded into, gutteral moans being pulled from your throat. The streach of his cock burned, but slowly the ache turned to pleasure as your doughy walls relaxed, and more slick coated his cock. 

“f-faster Daddy please,” you moaned. He complied shaking the desk with each rock of his hips. 

He took your cheeks in his hands tugging your face up to his level so he could bite your jaw. He let out a low groan against you skin. He was close, you could feel it. 

“Fuck I’m going to cum,”  you moaned knowing he wouldn’t be far behind. His Hand dropped to your neck cutting off your airflow. 

“Go ahead and cum on my cock, I want to feel you cream on my cock,” he growled

“you- you too, I want you to cum to,” you moaned your body spasming under his muscular frame. 

“I’ll cum when I’m damn ready slut, Just do what you’re told,” He spat.  His cock hit your g-spot making you see stars. 

“there’s my good girl,” he praised, he gripped your hips and started moving your body for you, using you like a doll as he chased his own release. 

“you’re sweet cunt is perfect for me baby, and only me,” he growled. His hips snapped forward burrying himself inside of you, his cock throbbing with release. 

“There, now you’re insides are claimed too, so you better not forget who you belong too,” he growled relaxing his grip on your neck, you slumped back on the desk, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. he pulled out and a river of semen spurted out of you. You had teased him about how much he came in the first private show, but it was always wild to see it in person.

“You sure know how to make a mess,” you teased grabbing a tissue to clean yourself up.

“It’s not a mess it’s a reminder,” he purred kissing your forehead. 

“Yeah now I’ll never forget who’s my daddy,”

#enji todoroki #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki x reader smut #endeavor x reader #endeavor x reader smut #mha endeavor #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia head cannon