#Fuck the Mimic all my homies hate the Mimic

[toaarcan]

If anyone's wondering what happened to Five Nights at Freddy's after its peak popularity, imagine if they made a new Halloween movie that was a bit lame and then a few months later they released a book that declared "Actually that wasn't Michael Myers in the last movie, it was a traumatised robotic doppelganger of Michael Myers who has been around since the 1980s" and a bunch of YouTubers declared this to be the greatest narrative twist of all time.

[gummy-axolotl]

STOP FUCKING USING AI VOICES!!! STOP IT!! COSPLAYERS, ANIMATORS, EVERYONE!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!! STOP FUCKING USING AI VOICE COVERS!!! YOU ARE VIOLATING ACTORS AND STEALING. DON'T. FUCKING. USE. AI.

[lat-lequin]

I swear, people wouldn't hate The Mimic nearly as much if it weren't for the fact that it was introduced in those awful books

[mobsterplatypus]

why

just why

microwave mimic that just eats the food instead of cooking it

[yosh-iro]

fuck mimics

me and all my homies hate mimics

[foxingpeculiar]

Elden Ring/SotE:

Okay, so when I left off, I was crossing the Consecrated Snowfield.

Went and checked out the ruins on the west side, and the tunnel over there. Killed Astel 2.0 in one. Made my way up to the Walking Mausoleum and brought that down, then went in the church and finished Latenna's quest. Then went over to the Minor Erdtree and dealt with the Putrid Tree Spirit there. Nothing to write home about.

Then it was time for Ordina. Went in and got assassinated pretty quickly. Then had a "nuh uh, Homie don't play that*" moment about it, got the special torch from the merchant in Altus, two-handed my katana and hunted those bitches down. They don't respawn, so then I could look for the candles in peace. Still had to deal with the archers on that one roof and the only way I could manage it was to use a shield for cover while I got over there. The only time in the entire game I've used a shield. But we got the candles lit and I got into the Haligtree.

(*that's an In Living Color reference, in case y'all are too young.)

I probably missed some stuff on the upper branches, but I was very "I hate fighting gravity in these games and these are some narrow-ass spaces to be fighting bubble dudes with AOEs and ants ten times my size," so made it down to the actual structure pretty quickly. From there, the second of the big Misbegotten Warriors got me a couple times before I managed him, but nothing else felt too difficult. Got Loretta in one and eventually made my way down to Elpahel.

I remember having to do this section A LOT the last time I was here--to the point that I remembered enemy placement for a lot of it pretty specifically, but nothing was too bad this time. I did NOT, however, deal with either the Revenant or the Putrid Avatar(s). Sort of accidentally stumbled on a path that just straight up circumvented all of that, and was like "well, alright. I can always come back if I really feel the need." (I won't.)

Killed the three Crystarians to get their treasure and then made it down to that bit where you have to cross the swamp that slows your movement and basically guarantees you’re gonna get Rotted. At which point, I was like... "WTF, why don't I know how to craft Boluses to deal with this?" Because I missed a cookbook in Siofra River, apparently, so went and got that and that made the whole experience much better.

Cheesed the Ulcerated Tree Spirit by waking it up, then quickly jumping back onto the branch and running up to the top of the arc. He was BIG MAD about it, but couldn't hit me, and I unloaded three flasks of Loretta's Greatbow on him from a safe distance before he went down.

Then chose to help Millicent, cos I like Millicent, and finished her questline and got the needle. And then, after a quick trip through a very heavily armored garden, it was Malenia time.

I was a little nervous going in, cos last time she basically felt impossible and I couldn't really do it myself--I had to summon in a co-op player to help. This time, my first time in there with her, I got her halfway through her Goddess of Rot phase. The whole time I was thinking "holy fuck, this would be legendary if I did this in one shot," but no--it's not quite that easy.

Eventually I landed on a strategy of cautious but unrelenting aggression. Summon Mimic Tear, then just start Night Cometing the fuck out of her until she gets close enough to do Transient Moonlight and start wailing on her. If she starts paying too much attention to me, run away, let the Mimic Tear divert attention, then get back in there. Build up bleed damage as quickly as possible, stagger her as much as possible and pray she doesn't decide to do Waterfowl Dance at you.

The problem would come in the second phase, when she'd open with the Scarlet Aeonia. I could get out of the way of it just fine and be blasting her with spells from a safe distance, but the Mimic would run in and basically roast itself on the rot-radiation after she landed. And then I'd have to deal with her without a split in aggro and I could last a while, but not usually long enough to finish her off.

But then, one time, the Mimic still had a little health and the spells I was blasting her with were just connecting and... the whole second phase lasted, I think, less than a minute. And I beat the shit out of her. It took maybe 15 tries and a little over an hour, but considering she's considered the hardest Fromsoft Boss, as of the base game of Elden Ring, that's not too shabby, really.

So, I'm of two minds now. Do I go fight Gideon and Godfrey and finish off Goldmask and Dung Eater and save the DLC for last? Or am I ready to head down and fuck up Mohg now?

I'll decide tomorrow... or whenever I play next.

[kirlianradio]

PRAYING that FNAF help wanted 2 lives up to the first. I’m only playing the first game for myself NOW and FUCK MAN

The games themselves work so well in vr. I never thought the OG games were particularly scary, jumpscares always felt cheap to me. But VR ends up giving your body this instinctual dread and alertness of danger because it’s feels so real when you get into it. I wasn’t screaming my head off but this queasiness seemed to linger through me.

I forgot how HARROWING the pizza party ending is, and getting to experience it in vr rlly gets in ur head. I had watched playthroughs but damn like … I felt., crushed!! I knew what was gonna happen, I watched playthroughs.. You aren’t really moving around through the game but at the moment I truly felt frozen in my spot. I felt stuck. With so much to do in this game, jumpscare after jumpscare. this one closing moment where you’re stood and there is NOTHING you can do. Experiencing Gabriel’s fate first hand.

ALSO introducing us to (what’s likely)( 1 of ?) the mimic program(s) and we didn’t even know It. Terror in this new creature lingering over you this entire time stalking closer as you gather the tapes. We knew it was a threat but only having this game scratch the surface leaving till now to know the true threat that it is. Gradually finding the workings of how it has become what it is AUGHG the despair in realizing thru trying to find these tapes instructing how to stop or avoid or warn of the creature only for those to be the one thing bringing it together again

Awawaw I’ve been enjoying it a whole lot, ^_^

some of the games r a lot tho ngl

FUCK NIGHTERRORS FUNTIME FREDDY ALL MY HOMIES HATE NIGHTTERRORS FUNTIME FREDDY!!! AUDIO PROCESSING?? IDK HER !!! HAVE MERCY !!!

[mandoinevarro]

Deep into the Wilderness

Words: 4.7k (this was supposed to be short but, alas, i am an asshole) 

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen :0, dubious consent (see: sex pollen), a bit of size kink ö, multiple orgasms :O, light descriptions of blood, magic nature if you’re in the mood, incredible coincidences if you’re not

a/n: i genuinely thought this would be a lil drabble :/, also fuck snakes all my homies hate snakes

There’s something wrong about the stars.

Nights in the Tatooine desert are usually dim and still, as stoic as the Mandalorian who’s been journeying across the endless dune sea with you in your little caravan of two. These past few days, you’ve noticed that the jagged difference between coarse sand and smooth beskar are no obstacle for his ability to blend perfectly into his surroundings. For days, you’ve seen the bounty hunter cruise the barren wilderness like he was born in it, climbing the mounds of sand leisurely and offering his hand when the treacherous ground gives in under your feet and you tumble forward. Ever the gentleman. Silent and observant, he tends to adapt to the elements around him and mimic their energy, until he becomes part of the landscape. Tonight is no different.

The normally scattered and shy desert stars have all gathered in a cluster right above your modest campsite, blinking down at you white and yellow and red against an electric blue sky, bright enough to spare the need of a fire. You feel watched. The stars’ ghoulish eyes above trail your every movement. Waiting to witness something.

Yes, a meek voice inside lies for you, it must be the stars, as you purposefully try to ignore the crushing weight of the Mandalorian’s trained gaze on you, much heavier than the strong beskared arm resting on your upright knee. The tube of bacta ointment moves awkwardly under your fingers and, Maker, you know it won’t be enough. The small holes on the wool covering his arm reveal two angry red pupils gushing blood where the snake’s fangs pierced him; pupils that stare amused at the medical salve that they know and you know and Mando knows will do little neutralize the unknown toxin. You sit so close to him you can hear the hitch of his breath when you pinch the tube and white balm oozes onto your finger.

“I—Mando, I-I think we should get help.” It doesn’t help your nerves that the man to your left hasn’t stopped staring at you since the ruby red viper appeared from under the sand like a conjuring, going straight for the Mandalorian’s arm and slithering back inside its hiding place beneath the dunes before either of you could react. It was unnatural; desert creatures tend to linger in the shadows and never attack unless provoked. Then again, everything about this particular evening—including the bounty hunter—seems to be slightly off, like when something in a familiar place is moved, but you can’t figure out exactly what.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” the voice under the modulator scratches at a  lower register than usual, gruffier in a way that would excite you and warm your belly if you weren’t so worried about the liquid currently poisoning his bloodstream. It must be the pain. “Two days by foot to the nearest town. Just use the bacta.”

You gulp and nod as firmly as you can manage, trying to quiet the whisper saying that bacta won’t cut it this time as you get your finger closer to his arm. It’s strange that he asked for your help—the bite is right on the pulse point of his inner elbow, where he could easily do it himself. Maker, just focus. He must have had a good reason to ask you. Plus, you’re not about to miss the promise of even the slightest physical contact with the Mandalorian, even if the situation is not exactly as you’ve fantasized all these months.

Your finger presses lightly into one of the gaps, and with a bit more force when you hear a raggedy exhale leave him. The opening the snake left behind is too small for your finger, and most of the bacta gathers around its edges, while barely any gets to the wound.

“I, um…I need to cut it—t-the fabric,” you stutter and, stars, you sound like an idiot, getting nervous over applying balm when you’ve seen him cauterize his own injuries with a steady hand, much to your horror. You can feel the way his eyes feed from your words as they study you carefully, somehow strengthening the gravity pining you to the ground. A strange static crinkles in the air between you, so real you almost hear it, and for a moment you feel the weight of his stare move past your face, lower down your body. By the time he finally nods and signals towards the open medical kit with a tilt of his helmet, you’re warm all over.

Stretching your torso just the right amount so that his arm doesn’t slip from your knee, you reach straight for the scissors in front of you. Your fingers pinch the fabric to lift it while your other hand works the clippers, cutting with tiny snip-snip-snips that do little to fill the tense silence between you. Why it’s even tense to begin with is beyond you. Sure, Mando got bitten by some unknown creature that could potentially be lethal, but the invisible rope getting stretched from both ends more and more between your bodies has little to do with the mishap. Stars, it feels like it’s pulling you closer and pushing you apart at the same time, and the arm on your knee suddenly feels like it’s burning through your pants. What would happen, you muse as you crank your wrist, if the rope gave in?  

The scissors close their circuit, and you lift a small circle of cloth, leaving the clippers aside. It’s a little bigger than it needed to be, but the Mandalorian doesn’t complain when you properly apply bacta on the lesion, sitting like a statue with the visor shining dark blue at your face. The stars reflect distorted on his helmet with judging eyes, like they can hear your thoughts. Like they just know how being so close to the man you think about to warm cold nights is making your heart pump more blood that you need. To places that definitely don’t need it.

You raise your other hand and rest it on his bicep. It’s only to pull the sleeve a little higher. To give you more room to work. And it’s only with that touch that he flinches.

You immediately lift both hands. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry, does…does it hurt—?”

“—No.” Mando moves his good arm and grabs your hand roughly, bringing it to rest on his bicep once again. He clears his throat, unable to wash away the grainy strain on his voice. “No, it—it’s fine.” His large palm stays over yours for a moment, before pulling away slowly. Reluctantly.

You nod and continue your ministrations, massaging a little more bacta than necessary on the bite. Maker, you never want to stop touching him. The patch of olive skin burns hotter than the planet’s twin suns under your touch, and you feel under your other hand how every shift of your finger makes his bicep jump in response.

His flesh absorbs the ointment fast, and you’ve now covered even the surrounding area around the bite, so you lift your finger, a bit disappointed that your little moment of intimacy is over. Until you feel him tug at his end of the rope.

“Cut more,” he breathes, and you freeze before you can lift the hand off his arm, staring right at the visor with eyes round as moons.

“Cut—cut more? More cloth? Wh—”

“The venom will travel up my veins.” Mando’s voice is a little steadier, but it still doesn’t mask a strange tint of something that doesn’t sound quite like pain. “You need to check how far up it goes. If…if it goes into my chest…”

He doesn’t need to finish. You shuffle to your knees—a little clumsily because of the sand beneath—and let his arm fall to his side as you squeeze his strong bicep a little tighter. For support.

“Tell me when to stop.” The blades cut away at the fabric, revealing a vertical line of lovely skin with each snip. They go higher and higher, higher and higher, and it’s you who decides to stop when they almost reach his armpit. You rest the scissors next to your legs. The slit uncovers the upper half of his arm’s underside, and you can’t help it when one hand moves to rest on the pauldron and the other slips under the crevice to caress his skin.

Mando’s chest puffs with more air and moves quicker, and—fuck—he looks so broad like this. Sitting and injured, he still towers over you with the beskar and the mass of muscle beaten into him through years of fighting.

He could crush me. The idea pools hot in your core.

“What, uh, what am I looking for?” Your own voice is thick. It’s wrong, but you’re honest enough to admit it’s arousal.

“T-the veins.” You hear him gulp and imagine the apple on his throat bobbing up and down. “Feel around. Che—check if they’re protruding.” You comply, dragging your fingers up and down his burning, strong arm, getting caught up in how he tenses under your touch. He’s pulsing, sure enough, beating like a drum under your hand—you even manage to raise goosebumps when you give a test squeeze—but you can’t feel any veins.

“No.” The hunter exhales with relief and nods once, but his arm doesn’t follow, as it remains taut as wood. You don’t remove your hand. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into you.

An soft breeze raises a small cloud of sand and cools your face, whistling past you while it orders you to do it. “If it’s not pain,” you murmur, deciding it’s your turn to tense your end of the rope a little, “what do you feel?” You scratch your nails down his arm.

The gloved hand furthest away from you balls into a fist, clutching sand. “It—it, uh. It burns.” The words are dragged out and gritty, like they’re forcing their way out. He shivers and shuffles closer to you. “But—fuck—feels good. You—you feel good.” Encouraged, your nails sink into his flesh, testing the waters. Finally, it earns you a grunt, deep and rumbling its way between your thighs. In a split second, his arms fly to his shoulder, tugging at the cloak desperately, and you remove your hand from the opening to help him. It takes a few rough jerks, but the cloak eventually rips away from his pauldrons, and the Mandalorian throws it back. His hand travels to the side of his torso closest to you and signals. “Cut here.” He doesn’t offer an explanation this time.

Shit, you probably shouldn’t. But wetness is gathering around your folds and you’re not sure if you’ll actually get anywhere, but, Maker, you’re willing to try. Your hand is trembling when it finds the scissors next to you and you crouch slightly to cut away, eager and desperate to reveal more of the mysterious bounty hunter. This time, though, you don’t make a crevice, but instead cut a long rectangle from his waist to the side of his chest. You drop the scissors and the piece of fabric on top of the cloak and waste no time before your right palm crawls into the opening. Boiling skin welcomes your hand as it explores his naked torso, up a sturdy chest rising and falling rapidly, and back down again, savoring the sensation of soft skin over firm muscles flexing under your fingers. You stop at a trail of hair near his navel.

The Mandalorian growls. You scratch the hair lightly. The rope snaps.

Your hand slips outside when two hands grab your hips to lift you, setting you down to straddle Mando’s lap. You fall ungracefully, wobbling and grabbing at him to find your balance, until his steel arms wrap around your waist to press your chest to his. You grab his shoulders for support, and your warm breath clouds the beskar of his helmet. Your hips squirm unconsciously, making your core accidentally rub against something hard between the hunter’s legs. His grip on your back tightens and grinds you against him again, making him release a deep, primal moan against your ear. Fuck, you feel how hot liquid plops on your underwear as he ruts you against his erection, but somewhere in the back of your brain a puzzle solves itself in a snap and sends a pang of guilt to your chest.

“M-mando.” You sound whinier than you intended. “Mmando, I—I’ve heard about this, you’re poisoned, y-you don’t know what you’re d—”

“—Shut up,” he spits at you and pushes you roughly against him as a hand unwinds from your waist and wraps over your mouth. Your moans are muffled against his glove when a current shocks your body as your clit rubs just right over his bulge. You glance up at the stars, looking for guidance around the overwhelming pleasure threatening to break you, but they only stare back, burning brighter than before.

Suddenly, Mando pulls his hands away and pushes you off his lap. You fall back kneeling, worrying you’ve crossed a line somehow, but your anxieties disappear when you see him rip off his gloves and pull at your clothes hastily. You take the hint and help him undress you. The top garments he removes, but your underwear is ripped away and thrown to the side.

He whips around and finds his cloak, laying it on the sand and silently ordering with a finger to get on top. You shuffle on your knees until they reach the soft material, and—just when you’re about to turn around and beg him to touch you—the Mandalorian lifts the rectangle of cloth you cut away and wraps it around your eyes. Your vision gone but impossibly turned on, you feel his hands shove you back until you lay on the cloak.

Sand and hair tickle your face, and maybe it’s not the best idea to lay completely naked in the middle of a desert where you already know dangerous animals hide. The thought is quickly washed away by the heat of humid breath on your stomach. It throws you off for a moment, to feel a human gasp so clearly against your skin, but once you put two and two together the realization hits you so hard you slump limp on the ground.

The helmet…

You barely have time complete your thought. The Mandalorian climbs on top of you, a tuff of hair tickling your stomach. The trail of heat stops at your tits, where he takes a nipple into his mouth and bites down hard. You whimper to the sky.

“F-fuck, what—” He cuts you off when he laps at the injured nipple with fast, wide strokes of his tongue, before sucking hard on it. One palm holds down your chest, as the other comes up to squeeze your other breast, kneading and pulling the soft flesh like dough. You try to bite down your whimpers, but it’s too fucking much and they tumble outside urgent and needy.

Fuck, you should push him away. You both need to calm down before he forgets your body is attached to a living, breathing person and tears you apart. You—you—

The atmosphere seems to fall down on top of you when two thick fingers sink to the hilt inside your open hole effortlessly. You hum at the bliss while Mando’s wet tongue travels between your breasts, up your sternum, and leans into the curve of your throat, stopping only until it reaches your chin. You’re starting to cramp beneath him, trying to push down on his digits, but his body is too heavy over yours and fuck, fuck, you want him inside you.

His hand wraps around your cheeks and presses them together, making your mouth give in to the pressure and open up wide. His tongue—still salty with the taste of your own flesh—barges into the cave of your mouth and messily drags across its walls, your tongue, the roof, somehow everything at once with aimless movements that lack rhythm or pace.

And then his fingers start pumping. They start fast and hard and only get faster and harder, as they curl into a hook and hit something that makes you see the stars outside through the blindfold. Mando moans against your teeth, and you swallow every vibration.

“Yeah? T-there?” His mouth moves away from yours and trails the edge of your jaw, stopping at the edge and biting your neck. The two fingers working inside you push upwards to make room for a third one, and the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your clit up and down. Your scream echoes in the empty space of the sterile desert, now buzzing with life. “R-right there? Hm?” His voice hangs thick in the air, mixing with the loud static in your ears. Through the haze, you wonder momentarily what his face looks like right now. Probably red and sweaty, popping a vein or two.

“Fuck, I don’t k-know…I—I have to…” The Mandalorian removes all three fingers at once, making you yelp at the emptiness that they leave behind. Your pussy clenches a second too late and pulses around nothing, as you move in the darkness to find him again. You open your mouth to beg, but he grabs your shoulders before you can even gather some broken vocabulary together and he turns you around, pressing your chest and face against the cloak.

Resting your cheek on the cloak, you grunt at the abrupt change of position. Five fanned out fingers press down between your shoulder blades, restricting your movements and compressing all the air out of your lungs. You can’t breathe and you can’t wait, too stimulated to backpedal now, but not enough to be satiated.

An arm wraps around your midriff and roughly lifts your hips. You hear heavy breathing behind you and some incoherent mumbling, as a zipper lowers.  

Something round and smooth pokes at your entrance.

Is…is that…?

It definitely feels like the head of his cock as it runs up and down your folds gathering moisture. It even twitches a little against your clit and he’s grunting with every movement but…but even without your sight to help it feels so big. It can’t be his cock, in what universe would he be that fucking bi—

A grunt and a slight retrieval of his hips for impulse is all you get as a warning before he slams into you, lurching you forward. It knocks every single thought out your head, jamming what little air you’d managed to inhale on your trachea. The stretch bites, straining against your walls at an uncomfortable angle. And then he grinds further inside, deeply and hard as the bulbous head of his cock stimulates just about every nerve inside your pussy at once. You choke on your own cry, desperately trying to hold on to some sanity as you focus on processing the burst of pleasure that casts a dark shadow over the pain. The feeling secures every muscle on your body so tightly you think your spine is going to snap.

And he holds there, pulsing angrily and breathing down hot against your shoulders. You feel a slow trail of flames burn your insides with every strong sequence of thum-thum-thums of his thick cock against your walls.

Stars, did he cum?  Is that why he’s throbbing so violently, did he cum? It’s hard to tell when you’re so wet you’re sure you’re going to dehydrate tomorrow and fuck you only get wetter with the strumming and Maker you know the snake was poisonous but…but could he really want you this much?  

He sucks in a gulp of dusty air through his teeth, grunts and holds you tighter, his arm strong as beskar around your midriff and a burning palm pressing you against the cloak, sinking it deeper into the sand.

Finally, the Mandalorian pulls out with a grunt, your hips following his with a sucking sound because of the grip of your walls against his girth. He stops right before the tip slips out, its ridge catching on your opening. And maybe whatever venom running through his veins dissipated because he doesn’t move for a second that feels like an eternity. Fleeting disappointment surges inside you because maybe…maybe it was just the serpent. Maybe he doesn’t really want you. You are the only fuckable thing for miles, and you’ve heard enough about the toxin to imagine how desperate he’d be. Stars, you feel like such an idi—

Mando’s hips suddenly crash against yours, sinking himself to the hilt.

You feel him everywhere. Fucking everywhere, even where he isn’t. The fat cock hammering into you randomly with no pace or metric, seemingly determined to taste every inch inside your cunt takes most of your attention, but the hand on your back kneads and pulls the thin skin there as best as it can. You try to brace yourself against something solid—anything—but when your hands form fists they find only handfuls of sand, and the delicate particles do nothing to steady you from the animalistic thrusts of the Mandalorian.

So you moan, long and high to try and release all the pleasure stockpiling inside of you with no exit routes. Mando answers with grunts all the way down in his glottis. A deep and angled snap of his hips hits you somewhere electrifying, and you feel something hot and liquid knot your pelvic muscles tighter. His skin slaps against yours obscenely, paired with the squelching of your pussy trying to engulf him deeper and deeper in spite of his size.

“T-take it,” you hear him growl behind you. Barely. Your ears ring and you can’t even listen to your own whimpers anymore. His length keeps coming, restless and infinite and fuck, you need to focus on something else, something outside to keep your head from slipping away. “Just—just f-fucking take me whole, you—"

Fuck, focus. Focus, count to ten, do something—

You grit your teeth and you can’t even warn him. Something drops into your pelvic muscles and you swear you can see the blue desert sky in a flash behind your eyelids and feel the blinking stars prickling the nerve endings on your back, making you spasm desperately. Your head spins, and you only feel pleasure. Only him.

Still half-passed out from your release, you hear it before you feel it. The wet sound contrasting the dry dunes of how he keeps using your cunt to get himself off. He’s not letting you come down, fall to the natural next step of your cycle and relax. Breathe. No, he keeps filling every last inch of you, faster now with the help of the additional wetness and holds you in that state of euphoria that keeps hitting you like a tide. Shit, are you cumming again?

“F-fuck—fuck—d-did you—ngh—cum? W-was that—” Another wave hits you and you clamp down mercilessly around him before he can get an answer. His long moan gets you wetter somehow, and you can’t even savor it before the strong forearm holding your waist pulls you upright against him.

Up is down as you try to figure out in the darkness where your body ended up. Something slumps behind you and pulls you down with it hard against the cushioning of the sand. You find yourself impaled on the Mandalorian’s cock, his chest to your back. He bends and opens his legs to grab yours, pulling them back and hooking them around his cuisses. Propped up with most of your weight on Mando’s hips, your feet barely graze the cloak below them.

You reach up to touch him but he beats you to it, wrapping his arms around your torso and grabbing the surely bruising skin of your tits. Your eyes roll back and you try you best to keep your head above the water, which proves incredibly difficult when you feel his lips on your jaw, his drool trailing down your neck. You turn your head and he doesn’t miss a beat before his tongue slips between your lips, tasting and exploring and almost drinking from you like you’re water in he’s been stranded in this desert for years.

Mando thrust up at you, resuming his senseless fucking. And maybe you’re a little greedy. Maybe it’s wrong, especially because you don’t have an excuse to act like this, but you roll down into his cock, wanting him everywhere and for as long as you can get him. His thrusts are almost impossible to meet and his thickness catches at your opening, but you work diligently—determined to have him buried as deeply as he wants to go. The beskar of his chest trembles against your shoulders with a vibrating, noiseless moan.

“You—you pretty t-thing,” he breathes lowly against your mouth. You grab his knees for support and push down harder. “I’ve want—wanted this—w-wanted you f-for so—so long.” He bites your lower lip. His voice sounds delirious.

Maker, it’s ridiculous. You’re bouncing your pussy on his stiff cock like an animal in heat, but his words warm your chest more than your core. You know it’s probably the poison talking, but you indulge in it. You let your hand cradle his cheek and bring your lips sweetly against his, pretending you’re his lover and not just a vessel for his release. He gasps into the kiss.

It’s with your lips that he finally lets go. It happens midthrust, so his cum spurts out of you and dribbles down his cock. It smears on your folds and, surely, on the cloak beneath. Stars, you’re shaking. Your legs spasm with the promise of another orgasm that almost—almost happened. Still holding you, Mando pulls out, and the rest of his seed spills on wool and sand.

What now? If not the sweat and the fucking, then his release surely evacuated the venom by now. The Mandalorian pants behind you, just as spent and exhausted, and what the hell are you supposed to say to each other now? You squirm uncomfortably at the dilemma, and your slit accidentally drags against something upright beneath you. Mando winces at the contact.

Maker, is he still hard? How—?

Fingers dig into your arms and force you forward and away from him. You fall on top of the cloak, barely pillowing your fall with your forearms before you feel the Mandalorian turning you around to face him.

You lay open below him, ruined and confused in the darkness as to what he’s planning for you next. Your clit pulses with equal parts arousal and apprehension at the uncertainty, but it decides for the former when you feel him dip his fingers in your entrance and scoop his cum and yours. The sound of him pumping himself faster and faster is muffled by his moaning. It’s filthy gibberish: loose words of everything he’s dreamt about doing to you; of how he’s going to fuck you over and over again; of how you’re going to take every drop of him; of how good it’s going to be for you.

Four fingers land on your clit and work it wetly up and down. A whine escapes you and you’re so sensible it almost hurts and your head swims and he’s still talking but there’s something…something sincere about his words. Something that hides beneath the frantic movements against your bud that feels almost reverent. Like the snake’s toxin only lifted a veil, revealing the Mandalorian’s pent up lust and primal instincts below his layers of unyielding discipline.

“S-so, so fucking good for me, so—"

You cry out when your walls tighten around nothing with powerful contractions, deciding at some point of the frenzy that consumes you that you’ll take advantage of this queer land and the limbo its night has thrown both of you into. Deciding you’ll let the Mandalorian explore his more primitive urges and fuck you into tomorrow, whatever “tomorrow” may mean for your relationship with him.

The sound of him fucking his hand quickens and you hear it closer to your body. You can’t tell exactly where.

“I—I—gonna c-cum.” His voice tightens in his throat. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” you answer breathlessly, and you mean it.

[nerdygirlwithanxiety]

*GASP READY TO RAMBLE*

Laughing Jack;

- I see him more as an electro idk it just feels right to me

- 5 star

- catalyst

- SUBS/DEFENSE

- unlike will LJ has a high rank fatui member ( absolutely hates the fatui dog- you'll see his info after will. Will's gonna trip you out I promise)

- use to be in the underworld after their old world evolved into Teyvat

William;

- The reason I think he's a geo is because he doesn't fight so he'd be more of a shielded probably daddy zhongli style

- he would of been apart of the fatui BUT in my universe Tartaglia ends up being Will's third incarnation after Yosuke

- Dude can't fight properly which is ironic since he got a vision (totally not because of Anthony)

- Homie has a crush on a missing archon

- 4 star

- sword user ( he still has a blessed katana)

Anthony (oc)

- you know how I mentioned the fatui dog? Congrats you discover Tsarista chaotic twin brother. Who HAPPENS to be khanriahs archon before shit got recked

- to conjure believe not all archons ends up with a gnosis. Isaac just happen to steal Anthony's craving major power

- temporary dated Tartaglia before will finally made it to the human realm...this lead to awkwardness

- Actually thanks to Isaac he can mimics other visions he got his own version of abilities towards the other elements

- if he had his own element he'd be steel ( you bet your ass he made will his adeptus)

- if tartaglia dies he turns Teucer as a adeptus out of guilt. Somehow both him and will adopted him giving Craig a brother kind of???

- man who needs healing and shielding when you can use recklessness to win!?

- ABSOLUTELY buttsheads with lj and isaac

- Frankie and Anthony despite not being related has a uncle and nephew/ siblings dynamic

- Reason teyvat exists now is because zalgo nearly destroyed the human realm would of succeeded if Anthony didn't find a way to save humanity.

- 5 star

- shares idle animation ( like kaveh and alhithiam/Yae Miko and Raiden Shogan) with William ( just idk what yet)

Frankie

- he'd be a bow user since he's excellent with guns

- despite how he acts he respects Anthony big time ( like in a rick Sanchez respecting summer kind of way)

- his element I 100% see as either Pyro ( since war and all that) or Electro ( immortality)

- Was severely confused about humanities new ability and blamed it on Anthony's anime addiction ( its actually not his fault the gods said fuck you to the rebels)

- still looking for Amy's killer ( assuming they're still alive in this timeline...spiol alert they're in the underworld)

- 4 star ( lj and Anthony banner the 4star chances would be Frankie, Will and Isaac)

Isaac

Dude has no vision and uses delusions because he's THAT psychotic and sick

- still try to murder will and Anthony for revenge

- ends up with a sword

- dude has healing artifacts lmao

- probably good friends with Dottore. Let's be honest they're sick enough to be friends probably

Now to see not only are you a fellow creeps fan but a genshin fan...

Will is a geo you can't change my mind

AUGHSJTHSJTB i waited this moment my whole life, i actually have Creeps x Genshin headcanons

Laughing Jack:

Pyro

5 star

Catalyst

Sub DPS/Off field DPS

His strongest team is a burgeon/Vaporize team

Even though he has no affiliation to anything he mostly hangs out with Will and since Will is some low rank Fatui he's just there by association

Not from any region but you'd find him anywhere Will is

Will Grossman

HYDRO!!!! Because i fuckinf love hydro and i think it'd be extremely funny to have the poor guy who can't even pay his own rent be the same element as the rich characters in the game (Yes Mona is rich, she's just a shopping addict)

I actually can't decide his rarity-

Support/Buffer

Bow

Although he isn't extremely powerful he has connections to the highest ranks in the Fatui thanks to his grandpa, who's a harbinger

You'd find him in Natlan or Fontaine

Deeply simps for admires Frankie, he tried to wield a claymore once but never again

Frankie

Electro/Dendro (i think both fit too well i CANNOT DECIDE)

5 star

Claymore

DPS/Shielder

I truly believe he'd have an HP drain mechanic Hu Tao style

Works with the Fatui but wouldn't describe himself as IN the organization, he's just a common business partner.

Travels all over Teyvat but his apartment is in Natlan, still next to Will

Isaac Grossman

Cryo because he's a cold mean bitch

A Fatui harbinger that is feared all over Teyvat because he's genuinely cruel, like actually cruel, he loves his job

The only one you could say treats decently is William because he's his grandson and he wants someone to take his place once he gets too old for this shit

Oh shit i forgot

This guy uses a sword

But is a healer

Heeheehoo

Oh and he's a 5 star too

It would feel wrong if he were a 4 star