#follow you eyeless jack

[lordprettyflackotara]

Follow You || Chapter Two || Eyeless Jack

sum: after returning to your college dorm room, jack just can’t stay away. this ends up resulting in an unfortunate run in with your unhinged roommate

tw: mentions of drug usage/drugs

a/n: i want to make it very clear i do not support drug usage as depicted in this story. this is a work of fiction and i would never encourage you to snort adderall lmaoo

chapter one is here

“You’re gonna be shaped like the letter C for the rest of your life if you sit like that.”

Jennifer’s voice was sour, an obvious sign she was sober. You looked over at your roommate, rolling your eyes. “You sit just like this, only you do it to get high, I do it for academics,” You countered. You wouldn’t consider your roommate, Jennifer, a friend. If anything she was far from it. She had long ginger hair, big green eyes, and freckles that decorated her cheeks. You had been assigned as roommates your freshman year of college. You both had heard horror stories of other people's roommates and decided although you weren’t fond of one another, you could tolerate each other's habits.

Giving Jennifer the benefit of the doubt she wasn’t wrong, even if it was hypocritical. You had been hunched over your desk for what felt like eternity, studying and writing notes for an upcoming exam. Out of instinct you leaned back, stretching over the back of your chair. “Touché. This exam has you bent out of shape huh?” Jennifer asked. She was laying on her bed, lazily hanging her head off of the side. Her eyes were glued to her phone, her fingers typing away. “That's a severe understatement. You try taking biochemistry. Everything is blending together the longer I look at it,” You sighed. You rubbed your temple, letting out an exhausted breath. “Yeah, I think I'm good. I’ll still with my art major,” The ginger replied. Glancing at her you could see the noticeable eye bags hanging under her eyes. You see Jennifer had an astounding drug problem, one you had grown tolerant of. Despite not partaking in substances yourself, you were well educated in the world of pharmaceuticals. Jennifer took advantage of your knowledge, in exchange for keeping that aspect of her life out of your dorm.

Your shared bathroom was up for grabs naturally, but your main bedroom was not. You thought of Jennifer to just be a woke party girl, who spent her spare time either partying or attending whatever cause she was obsessed with for the week. This week it happened to be veganism. You suspected this charade wouldn’t last long, considering any protein Jennifer consumed seemed to evaporate due to her constant drug usage. She’d feel like shit and get bacon next week at breakfast, you were sure. “Are you going to Mark’s Halloween party? It’s all anyone can talk about right now,” Jennifer asked. You propped your head up on your hand, giving her a sarcastic smile. “Cmon Jen, you know I don’t party. Besides my big exams are the day after,” You reminded her. Not that she should’ve needed reminding, considering it’s all you could think about. It may have only been the beginning of October, but your focus was consumed by your studies.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, rolling over on her stomach. “You know a part of the college experience is socializing right? Your books aren’t going to do you any favors when it comes to meeting hot guys,” She said teasingly, sticking out her tongue. You noticed she had changed her tongue piercing, a neon green ball sitting on her unbrushed tongue. “Hot guys can come after I become a doctor. Half of the guys here are gonna drop out anyways,” You replied. Jennifer snickered, her gaze returning to her phone. “Thats not what you think about Ethan Kibber though,” She teased. You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the sound of his name.

Ethan Kibber. Tall, mean, incredibly handsome. He had beautiful dreadlocks that went down to his shoulders, his chocolate orbs always captivating you every time you saw him. And his voice? It was deep and raspy enough to make you swoon. He was a psychology major, determined to thrive as a psychologist. His admission to Harvard had been publicized, his sister having been a victim to suicide. Ever since then he had been determined to help others mental health. A trait you absolutely adored. He also played football, typical jock popularity following along with it. But you admired his ability to never let that change him. Sure, your only interactions had been nods or brief greetings in the hallway. You were sure it was only because Jennifer walked beside you, but you thought the effort to acknowledge you was sweet.

Playfully you threw a pencil at her, causing her to giggle. “Don't tell me you’re going to try to bribe me by guaranteeing his attendance,” You groaned. Jennifer sat up fully, sliding off of her bed. “Not necessarily but it would be soooo good for you to get out more. You’re always cooped up in here all the time,” She replied. You watched her go over to the bathroom, doing what she did best. You tried not to stare as you heard a drawer open and shut. Her special little ‘stash’. “Hey, what'll get me through my quiz today? I have a bunch of uppers,” She asked. You cringed at the thought of her voice echoing into another dorm. “What time is your quiz?” You asked. You refrained from looking over your shoulder, no matter how much your curiosity lured you to. “In an hour,” Jennifer responded. Your eyes widened, your gaze glued to your desk. “Jesus, Jen. Take an adderall and crush it up and snort it,” You sighed. You didn’t enjoy assisting Jennifer’s drug problem, but you also despised the idea of having to help her detox. Not that she ever truly would.

“Thanks! You’re the best. Now back to what I was saying,” She replied. You could hear the rattling of pills in a bottle, before the sound of them crushing occurred. “I know you’re not a party go-er but why not give it a try? You’re basically a scientist right? Why not trial and error another party?” She asked. Another party. You felt slightly embarrassed at the memory, glancing down at your bandages. You hadn’t told anyone about Jack or what had happened. You pretended you went home with a guy you didn’t remember, earning a big congratulations from your precious roommate. Little did she or anyone else know you were a virgin, dreaming of the day Ethan Kibber would sweep you off your feet. So you played along with the story, claiming you had fallen a bunch at the party. You regretted every second that you attended, cringing at how sloppy of a drunk you turned out to be. Turns out having an unrestricted supply of alcohol is troublesome for even the best students.

“I want to be a doctor in medicine, not science. Although I appreciate the notion, I think i’m good,” You say. You cringed at the sound of her loudly snorting, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. “Give it some thought. Why not come out with me this weekend? Spend the week being a bookworm but loosen up on the weekend with me,” Jennifer suggested. She walked out of the bathroom, grabbing a hoodie. Her high waisted early 2000’s pink shorts were not suitable for the weather at all. Jennifer never feared the weather, no matter how freezing cold it was. Instead she would double layer her tank tops, making sure they were cropped enough to show off her playboy belly ring. She shoved on a hoodie that you presumed she ‘borrowed’ from her last fling. That was the only way she ever obtained winter wear. “Yeah yeah i’ll think about it. Hurry up and go before you’re late,” You say, finally rising from your chair. You handed her whatever pair of uggs she was obsessed with for the time being, wishing her good luck before practically shoving her out of the door.

You ran your fingers through your hair, stressed out beyond belief. How were you going to manage parenting your roommate while balancing studying for possibly your most important exam yet? You trudged over to the bathroom, satisfied to see that the counters were clean. You looked at yourself in the mirror, noticing how exhausted you appeared. Your hair had grown out longer than you preferred, your face more worn out looking than usual. You leaned over to the sink, flipping on the cold water. You needed to focus. You splashed your face with cold water, rubbing your eyes as you did so. Colorful dots danced in your vision as it settled, your hand struggling to find the towel. You managed to find it, wiping your face before tossing it aside.

It was then your heart jumped out of your chest, a tall ominous figure standing beside your desk. You jumped in surprise, nearly tripping over a pair of Jennifer’s discarded sneakers. Swallowing, you took deep breaths, realizing Jack was standing before you. In his visible hand was your heels, coated with mud from your journey into the woods. “Holy shit, what the hell are you doing here?” You hissed. While you were slightly fearful of Jack’s presence, the demon didn’t interpret your words to mean that at all. He held up your heels, setting them down on the floor. “I climbed through your window. You should really lock that,” Jack told you. He thought he was being helpfully informative, all the while your emotions were going haywire. “I brought you back your shoes, you accidentally left them at my cabin,” He explained. Your brain fully seemed to register the situation, your head instinctively nodding. Jack wasn’t intending to be creepy or unsettling, he was just trying to be nice.

“Thank you. You scared the shit out of me. At least give me some warning next time,” You say awkwardly, rocking back and forth on your heels. There was a certain tension, where neither of you seemed to know what to do with the other. Jack, an oversized demon with the communication skills of a walnut, just wanted to get to know you. Maybe it was the savior complex he was beginning to form, but something about you was intriguing. A connection. An odd connection that kept him wanting to come back. You, an overworked stressed out med student, were extremely unsure how to handle Jack’s attention. You had never acquired such attention from a male. Nor had you ever received such genuine kindness. It made you suspicious of his intentions, as if his rough exterior appearance didn’t do that enough. Jack inhaled, his eyebrows raising. His action confused you, your eyes widening in surprise as he pushed past you into the bathroom.

You stared dumb founded as he yanked open one of the bathroom drawers, revealing Jennifer’s infamous drawer of treasure. Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I thought you were a med student. Why the hell do you have percocet and xanax in your bathroom? Do you know how bad this is for you?” Jack asked, his tone laced with how offended he was. He was thankful for his acute sense of smell, the scent of crushed adderall catching his attention. You didn’t seem like you did substances, your face twisting in disgust. “They're not mine you flimsy snoop! They’re my roommates. How the hell did you know they were there?” You fired back. Jack went to quip a response, when his ears twitched. The scent of your roommate was coming closer, her heart racing as fast as Jack would expect from a college student snorting adderall. “Your roommate is coming,” Jack whispered. You barely managed to choke out a sound of confusion, his large hand grabbing your arm and dragging you into the bathroom. His touch was absurdly hot, his skin so warm it felt like it could burn you. You gasped in surprise as Jack pressed you back against the bathroom door, flicking the tiny lock on the door handle.

There was no time for confusion, the sound of your dorms door flying open. “Roomie? Where are you?” Jennifer asked. Jack flinched at the sound of her voice, the hoarseness making him freeze. He hadn’t accounted for being seen by anyone else. “In the bathroom, w-what’s up?” You sputtered. Jack didn’t need to relay the fear he felt, his tenseness telling you everything you needed to know. “Theyre sending the drug dogs around to our floor, I need to flush all of my shit,” Jennifer squealed, desperately shaking the doorknob. Under his mask Jack was terrified, seemingly frozen in fear. The Operator would have his head on a silver platter for exposing their kind. “I-I got it. Trust me i’ll take care of it,” You replied. Your eyes flickered back and forth at Jacks mask, searching for any emotion. The endless void of darkness stared back at you, the unsettling tar like substance dripping down the royal blue mask. Jack could then hear the sound of conversation a few doors down, a drunk pair of roommates arguing about a broken bottle. It wasn’t long before the smell of metallic blood flooded his nostrils, one of the roommates evidently cutting themselves on the glass. An odd sound escaped Jack’s throat, similar to a hum. You flinched at the sound, before pushing past Jack.

“You’ll take care of it? Let me help you it’s my stuff,” Jennifer pleaded, desperation lacing her words. Through Jack’s hungry haze, he realized just how worried your roommate was about you seeing her stash. Jack wasn’t an expert of human interaction by any means, but he gained the sense that you had no idea just how many kinds of drugs she had stored away in that drawer. Jack tried to push past you, not wanting to ruin your friendship. He grabbed random bottles, unscrewing the lids and tossing them in the toilet. “Is there someone else in there?” Jennifer asked. Jack watched your cheeks flush pink, your mouth running dry. “W-What? N-no!” You sputtered, becoming rapidly embarrassed. Your embarrassment was distraction enough, Jack managing to grab a majority of the unlabeled bottles. Your eyes flickered over to the drawer, your clammy hand grabbing a small baggie of marijuana. Jacks eye sockets widened as you shoved it down your shirt. “I can hear two sets of footsteps in there. Is this the guy?!” She squeaked, her mood jumping to excitement. Now Jack was the one flustered, freezing in place.

You grabbed the pill bottle from his hand, finishing dumping them out. Jack had misread you. You did tell her. How much did she know? “What? Fuck, uh, yeah it is,” You replied, stumbling over each word. You stood on your tippy toes, brushing past Jack’s hood. Your breath was hot against his skin, the demons own heart beginning to feel as though it was racing. “She thinks I lost my virginity in the woods, just follow my lead,” You whispered. Jack raised an eyebrow, relieved at the notion you had in fact kept his secret. “OH MY GOD! Can I meet him?” Jennifer squealed, her voice high and pitchy. Jack cringed at the sound, wondering if a human girl's whines could make his ears bleed. ”Uh no you cannot, we’re gonna leave now,” You rambled. In an unsure manner you grabbed his hand, the demon grabbing onto the wall. Your doe eyes met his, something calming about the color staring back at him. “Trust me,” You whispered. You unlocked the door, shoving it open. Jack avoided looking at Jennifer, keeping his head down. He could hear the cops beginning to search your neighboring dorm mates. “They’re coming,” Jack mumbled, just low enough so you could hear him. You squeezed his hand, pushing past a gushing Jennifer.

“This is him? Why’s he wearing a mask?” She questioned. You guided Jack over to the window, pushing the blinds aside and shoving it open. “I’m uh, into mask play,” You said slowly, as if you were unsure of the own words coming out of your mouth. Jack was halfway out of the window, freezing once he heard your flustered words. “Like ghostface? Seriously? You’ve only had sex once and you’re jumping into mask play?” Jennifer gasped, flabbergasted at the mere thought you were presenting her. Your cheeks were bright red, nervously shoving on a random pair of sneakers. “Yup I am. Don’t judge me. I don’t judge you. Gonna go now, bye!” You rambled, practically shoving Jack out of the window. He jumped down first effortlessly, realizing your dorm was on the third floor. You nervously peered out of the window, looking down at Jack. The demon knew time was thin, outstretching his arms and waiting for you to jump. The overwhelming knock at the door gave you enough courage, your eyes screwing shut as you threw yourself out of the window.

[loserfurry]

You're so creepy, pasta

[ruexvn]

𝙰 𝙺𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚎𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚓𝚎𝚏𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍.

"𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺?!"

𝙷𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔. 𝙷𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖... 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜.

“…𝚠𝚑𝚘-"

"��𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗...𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊 𝚗𝚘..."

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘. 𝙱𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔'𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚑𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚏𝚢 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝙷𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚓𝚎𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍

"𝚌𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚙!!"

"𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚝...𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞..."

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍, 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝚃𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍; 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝....𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝, 𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎.

"𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝?..𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝.."

"𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔..."

𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚓𝚊𝚛, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

"𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎", 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍.

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 '𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚜' 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢. 𝙰 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 ��𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝, 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.

"𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜?..."

"𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝...𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚝𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕?..."

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍

"𝚘𝚔...𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎..."

"𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈!? 𝚃𝙷-"

"𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘"

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙱𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎. 𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚓𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝙰 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙷𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 ....𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗

"𝚎𝚛-....𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔.... 𝚞𝚑𝚖..𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚠....𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎?"

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚍, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚓𝚊𝚛. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜; 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑.

"𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝...𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚑... 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚏 𝚓𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚢 𝚒 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜..."

𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚢, 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚎𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘.

"𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎... 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝?.."

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍. 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚢..𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎, 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜. 𝙰 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚊𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢���𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜.

"𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎"

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

[cupomilm]

I haven't posted any artwork like anywhere for a good while. So, I've decided that (despite the fact I'm probs not going to post this anywhere else) I will post it here.

2016

2023

This is roughly 7 years of improvement. Looking at this makes me feel both like I've improved quite a lot but also like I haven't improved much at all lmfao

For additional context to the 2016 version: the eyeless jack would usually RP was an a-hole. A little stinker. A real rapscallion. I do not RP creepypasta anymore these days but there are times I miss him. (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠) Nostalgia is a blessing and a curse.

[sharp-silver4795]

Option 4 is the more likely…

Strategically speaking, though, it depends on the artist’s portrayal of each of them.

If I’m using MY concepts of the 3, then EJ no questions asked. But idk abt this person’s ideas cuz I’m just like:

*gasp!* pretty creepypastas!! ✨👀

So ye- idk. But option 4 is best lbfr

Read the tagssss

I present to you a difficult choice щ(ʘ╻ʘ)щ Hope you survive!

[rainrot4me]

Restless

Summary: Your demon boyfriend is struggling with a wave of insomnia. You’re willing to do whatever you can to help him relax.

Characters: Eyeless Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Cunnilingus, vaginal, handjob, vaginal fingering, size differences, creampie, belly bulge, oral, teasing, somnophilia, Jack is a smug bastard

Words: 4.2k

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! I hope you all are well despite my absence interacting with everyone! I hope to get back in the swing of things shortly!!

Eyeless Jack is a daunting presence no matter the circumstance.

Whether the gray-skinned demon is lurking in damp woods with the intent of hunting his prey or brooding his irritation down in the mansion's cellar, anyone with the misfortune of meeting his nonexistent gaze knows it’s something you cannot ignore.

But you’re not afraid, especially not when his arm is wrapped dutifully under your waist and rubbing absent circles onto your hip bone. And that is also how you know he is lying wide awake beside you, despite his forced rhythmic breathing.

Rolling over, it’s an even more telltale sign of his restlessness when you find the crease of his brows knotted in silent frustration. You huff a silent breath, his grasp on your waist following as you roll to his side, lying your cheek on his broad shoulder splayed on his pillow. You catch his brow twitching at the touch of your hand on his bare chest.

“Can’t sleep?”

He huffs a breath of air, sighing with defeat as he peels his eyelids open to reveal the caverns of eyesockets that house no iris. His face is answer enough. You know that he’s looking at you, though. The chill that runs across your goosebumped skin is more than enough indication.

“No,” his voice is rough, laced with all the tiredness from the day prior but not matching the lack of exhaustion in his features. He rummages his tongue behind his lips as if to say something further, but decides closing his eyes again would be a better option.

“You want to talk about it?”

You shimmy further into his side, pressing a leg up to curl around his hips, where he grips his clawed hand under the pocket of your knee to hoist it higher. The tips of your toes barely reach the tops of his knees, his size practically swallowing you even beside him. He peels his eyelids open again.

“Also, no.” Reaching behind his pillow, he props his head up with his forearm. A telltale that he intends to stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night. You follow suit, pressing your elbow to the pillow under yourself and resting the weight of your head on your palm. He looks only slightly irritated when you begin to trace the hard lines of his face with your fingertip.

“Just because I cannot sleep doesn't mean you shouldn’t either, my dove,” he hums, capturing your roaming hand with his free one and plating a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, the demon plating a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. He lets his eyelids blink shut in false hope.

Jack had been like this for days now. Unable to get a full night’s rest from the overwhelming tasks of the day prior. Slender was sending the proxies out at an obnoxious rate, rallying all the manpower he could over a dispute with another mansion. It was exhausting and incredibly bloody, which meant Jack rarely saw daylight with how many hours he spent stitching up or cauterizing bullet and knife wounds down in the recesses of the basement. His fingers were still practically pinched to hold a needle even as he lay here beside you.

As a member of Slender’s band yourself, you can’t fault any of them for fulfilling orders, but you find yourself silently seething when it comes at the expense of Jack’s sanity.

“I don’t mind,” you breathe, letting your now-free fingers trace across his bare chest, tracing the lighter scarring and divots from past encounters lazily. “I could help you out, anyway.” 

Jack hugs you closer but doesn’t respond to your offer, so you carry on.

“I could... give you a massage?” You offer sleepily, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

He doesn’t bother to respond beyond a quiet, breathy chuckle.

Your hand meanders over his toned abdomen in comforting, absentminded patterns. Roaming over old scar tissue and through unkept trails of body hair, “D’you want something to eat?” you ask against the skin of his jaw, “I saved some meat from your last hunt.”

“Thank you, pet, but I’ll be alright.”

“Mm,” your low-hummed response vibrates against his side, and your pinkie finger slips just beneath the band of his boxers, grazing across from one large hipbone to the other. Your lips brush the shell of his pointed ear. “D’you want me to suck your cock?”

Jack’s breath hitches, then shudders. His eyelids slowly peel open. 

He’s met with a mischievous grin on your face.

“You don’t need to–”

“I want to,” you coo against his jaw as you trail slow, methodical kisses across his chilled skin. He leans into the sensation, craning his neck to give you better access to the point where his veins run up his throat. He releases a low rumble of approval, and you meet his half-lidded absent gaze, sharp with both mirth and lust, even through the crowding fog of exhaustion. You don’t need the pleasure of pupils to see that he’s gazing at you with silent want.

It’s not without planting a kiss every couple of inches down that you shimmy your way further down his body. Coming to rest between his legs, it pleases you when you press your mouth against his clothed crotch to find him already half-hard.

You hook your fingers over the band of Jack’s boxers, his hips lifting in silent invitation as you ease them down. The cool bedroom air brushes against your skin, ruffling your hair as Jack flicks the duvet aside with a lazy throw. His eyes—dark, absent voids in the low light—watch you with heavy-lidded interest, his lips curling at the edges in a lazy smirk. A fang just barely peeks from the gap in his lips, and you can’t help but feel the flutter in your stomach.

He props himself up on one elbow, but you press a firm hand against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of something not quite human beneath your palm.

“Nuh-uh,” you murmur, a stern edge to your voice. “Lie back. Let me take care of you.”

Jack exhales a slow, unamused breath but obeys, sinking back into the pillows with an air of indulgence. Shadows coil at the edges of the room, stretching and shifting with the thick moonlight between the curtains, but your attention is solely on him.

You catch the spit from your lips between your fingertips and watch with keen amusement as Jack’s gut flexes at the slick contact. You roll your wrist on the tip of his head. Once. Twice.

You waste no time with teasing tonight. 

Instead, you offer yourself completely, the warmth of your mouth and the slow, deliberate glide of your hands working in unison to unravel him. Spit collects, your fist quick to catch anything that dribbles from your lips to stroke back upwards. The occasional flex of his claws against the sheets betrays his restraint, but he lets you set the pace—lazy, deep, unhurried.

Jack is large, obnoxiously so, but you let your throat relax. Unhurried with the usual cascade of noises that come with using your mouth, you let the low moans and quiet slick of your spit mix pleasantly with the lullaby of noises from further up the bed.

The grizzled grunts and lupine growls that usually accompany sex with Jack reshaped instead to soft gasps and lilting whimpers.

It’s a very nice alternative.

His breath hitches when you pause, just briefly, to swirl your tongue in a way you know drives him wild. His muscles tense, then loosen, and one clawed hand twitches toward you before falling away, opting instead to rest against his own ribs, rising and falling with measured breaths.

You don’t let that action go unnoticed.

Sliding your free hand up the rippled muscle of his thigh, you reach for his wrist. You guide him, slotting his clawed fingers in between the strands of your hair. The warmth of his palm is a comfort against your head, a silent guide.

The room is hushed, wrapped in the intimate lull of slow-building pleasure. Jack’s chest rises and falls beneath your touch, his sharp features softened in the low light, his body melting into the warmth of your devotion. His fingers flex in your hair, claws barely grazing your skin, his hips shifting in time with your movements.

Everything is slow, indulgent, and a pleasure drawn out to its fullest. And from the way Jack’s lips part on a breathy exhale, his sharp, inhuman gaze growing hazy with bliss—you know he won’t make it much longer.

You intend to finish him off slowly. An outstretched ripple of pleasure that’s sure to have him passed out the moment he finishes. You press your tongue along the vein that runs up his length, tracing a familiar line. It doesn’t seem to have the desired effect.

Jack’s lulled state is slowly dissipating, his legs shifting outwards as the claw against your head moves downwards underneath your jaw. His hand more than covers the circumference of your throat, and slowly pulls you up and off of his length. 

“Jack?”

But then he’s sitting up, and his claws wrapping around your middle, dragging you up from between his legs.

“I hope you didn’t intend on my cumming in your mouth,” he rumbles as you straddle onto his ribs, hands braced on his chest. 

The lazy look in his eyes is still evident, heavy eyelids adding to the frazzled look of his blissed face. You smirk, bracing your forearms on his chest to get closer to his face. “What? Couldn’t stand the thought of not bruising my insides for once?”

“But that’s my favorite part, dove…” he smirks that evil, sultry look that makes your chest swirl with want. You don’t let him by without an eye roll, though. You school the pounding in your chest—no doubt thudding loud and clear in the demon’s ears—and press up off of his chest.

It’s quick movements that have Jack’s claw reaching behind your back and between your legs, the fastest he’s moved all night to tug your panties to the side. There’s already a generous amount of slickness between your legs, the insistent thrumming of pleasure that spikes up your gut when the pads of his fingers press wholly against your clit.

You lean into your chest, fingers clinging to his shoulders as your nose finds the crook of his neck. Hungry, self-serving kisses follow, your quiet moans vibrating off his gray skin as masterful fingers rub you into a state of ease. He’s just as unhurried as you were between his legs, but you can’t tell if that’s a blessing or a curse with the way your nails catch on the muscles of his shoulders.

“This-hng was supposed to help you sleep—not get you riled up,” you gasp between kisses, feeling the weight of Jack’s forearm as he bypasses your leg with his opposite hand to begin stroking himself below you.

A mirth-filled chuckle hums in his chest as his fingers collect slick, aiding his practiced rotation on your clit. 

“Trust me, pet. This’ll have you sleeping ‘till tomorrow night.”

You let out an exasperated whine.

Jack retracts his hand when he’s satisfied, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before setting you back up.

His legs are bent now, giving you a rest for your back as you shift to straddle his hips, hovering above the twitching length that lays heavy on his abdomen. He’s still slick from your spit, gleaming in the low light as you steady yourself.

Jack retracts his grip on your hips, crossing his arms and tucking them under his head to get a nice prop for viewing. You cut daggers at him.

“Oh, now you wish to rest.”

He smiles that sharp, toothy grin that makes butterfly wings run rampant in the pit of your gut, swirling heavily with the pleasure that’s coaxing your movements downwards.

Panties tugged to the side, you set yourself on the length of his cock, pressing your core against the veins that run up him. Jack groans, soft hums of approval as you roll your hips down, grinding against the feel of him. Your wetness makes it easy to move, hands planted onto the center of his sternum that gives you enough leverage to roll your clit from base to tip of him.

“There you go…” he breathes, sighing as his eyelids blink slowly, like they’re struggling to open back up again. He won’t last another couple of minutes, you know it. 

Pressing your knees down into the sheets, you reach beneath yourself, wrapping a fist around the base of his cock. It’s like second nature the way his tip immediately slots through your folds and presses against your entrance. Jack’s breath stills, anticipation heavy in the air as he shifts his legs closer. 

You press your back against the top of his thighs.

Any and all tenseness is wiped clean away as you begin to push him inside. Your mouth falls open in a silent whine at the slow, perfect stretch, and you battle the flutter of your lashes to watch the hypnotic fog of pleasure that rolls across Jack’s face.

You arch your back further, hands planting atop each of his kneecaps as you slowly rock yourself downwards. His tip bulbs in. Out. In again. And then you press it past the tight ring of muscle.

The stretch is always hypnotic. Like a strain on your brain that pushes itself through, completely swarming your senses and encapsulating your every thought. If you weren’t so practiced, the pressure alone could send you into a brain-dead state.

You slip further and further down, his girth growing along the way. A quick glance up shows the disheveled state of the demon’s hair, strands falling into his face and offering a cover to the darkened state of his cheekbones. 

He looks deliciously wrecked.

Hollow eyes squeeze briefly shut with a short, rough moan that harmonizes with your high, breathy one when he hits something deep that makes you tremble and clench. Before you’ve realized it, you’ve nearly taken all of him, and you can feel it.

“You’re too-hah big for your own good…” you huff through slow breaths.

“You love it,” he growls, the vibration rumbling all the way from his throat to where you’re connected.

You roll your pelvis and are rewarded with a heavy groan and twisted brow, the sight and sound so intoxicating that you rock again, and again. The angle of him inside you is so mind-numbingly exquisite that you find it hard to focus.

You brace your hands on his chest and straighten, relishing the way he looks underneath you—so tired, yet so eager for more. 

Your thighs shake, a satisfying muscular burn from the slow, sensual ride. Raising yourself up, circling your hips to nudge the head of his cock in a tunneling spiral inside your heat as you sink back down again, the teasing movement dragging a deep, strained curse from Jack’s lips.

His hands leave their position behind his head, trailing down the sheets to the top of your kneecaps.

They slowly slide up, claws dragging pink irritated lines across the topside of your thighs until they snag on the crease of your hips. He holds your waist in that way that makes you feel so deliciously small, fingertips nearly touching around you.

“My dove…”

The rumble in his voice shoots straight through you, his breath stuttering as you clench around him. 

You start to offer a slow, sensual ride that has every press of your hips tugging moans from the two of you. Jack’s hold is keeping you steady, the pace more focused on getting him as deep as you can rather than fast.

“Fuck—”

The breathy curse slips, clearly accidental, from above you, and your gaze flicks upwards. 

Jack stares up at the ceiling, unblinking with strangled focus. 

You know what he’s doing.

“Quit- hah- quit holding back,” you grit, wrapping your hands around his forearms in return for the shallow bounces up and down his length. The swell of his cock knocks against your g-spot from this angle, forcing breathy, sharp whines every time you move.

“Mmn,” he grumbles, gaze flickering down towards you, before back up to the ceiling. “Don’t want-hn to so soon.”

For someone with no eyes, Jack’s biggest turn-on is seeing you. The curve of your body. The bounce of your tits. The sweat that glistens off your skin in the moonlight.

He thinks by staring at something besides you he can prevent the inevitable. But your intention for tonight is to get him tired enough to go to sleep, not to see how long he can last without filling you past the point of comfort.

You pull out the best trick you’ve got.

Ditching his arms, you lay back again, shoulder blades pressing atop his kneecaps.

From there, you arch.

You hold all the grace of a bow bending from the stretch of a string, and Jack is your archer.

“Jack—” you cry, sharp breaths following as you bounce yourself up and down.

The demon flashes his gaze down, and his body snaps with so much electricity you can practically feel the thrum of pleasure that ricochets through him. His hold tightens, and his shoulders bow off his pillow.

The bulge of his cock is clearly visible from your abdomen, skin stretching to accommodate the swell of his tip against your insides. It’s a mouthwatering sight, one even Jack can’t resist, as he watches the bump flatten only to reappear with each movement of your hips.

“God,” he groans, a strangled grumble of your name following as he takes hold, setting his own deep pace.

You let your body go lax, throwing your head back as Jack fucks up into you with all the grace he can muster. His cock knocks against your sweet spots, stretching and filling you so full you.

He lifts your waist, your kneecaps leaving the mattress as Jack takes the initiative. Planting his feet, he snaps his hips up desperately, chasing the feel of his cock bulging in your stomach under the press of his clawed fingertips that brush over the skin.

His hands are at your waist, scorching, lifting, and pulling your hips into each sunken thrust. Grinding your aching bud against his pelvis—

“I- I’m- fuck. Gonna,” you pant out, hissing through your bared teeth as you teeter over that lovely precipice. “Jack—”

Your nails dig into his forearms.

It’s the ragged, lust-drunk groan of your name that breaks you. Jack’s mouth falls open around a strangled cry—a silent thing that lodges in his throat, with only the end crackling free over his tongue. 

You both snap at the same moment.

It’s the quivering heat of you coming undone around him, because within moments Jack follows you straight over the precipice. Claws snagging you impossibly downwards as his face twists into the most gorgeous expression of pleasure you’ve ever seen. 

Completely, beautifully wrecked. 

A broken moan pours from scarred lips with yours as he spills himself deep inside you. Throbbing hips grind together as you both tumble through the unceasing riptide of your shared orgasm.

His hold on you falters, and you collapse down onto his chest, sweat-glistened skin pressed against yours. Both of your lungs heave like bellows, and his claws find their way atop your back, holding you close to him. 

After what feels like an eternity, and yet still far too soon, the joint orgasmic rush begins to wane. Gradually lowering you back to reality, until you find yourselves quietly cradled together.

It’s not without a whimper of soreness that you shift upwards, shifting your hips until the swelled length inside of you slips out with a satisfying pop. The warmth of his cum seeps from between your legs, spilling onto the demon’s lower abdomen—there’s always so much.

You barely make it an inch before you’re collapsing back onto his chest.

“You okay, handsome?” You ask gently, voice hushed.

He hums, groggy and laced with overbearing exhaustion.

“Sore?” He asks you quietly.

You shake your head.

“Tired?” You smile.

A tiny huff and a gleam of his fangs, followed by a conceding tilt of his head. You chuckle, nuzzling into the swell of his chest. Sleepiness creeps at the corner of your vision, exhaustion tugging you into the faux warmth underneath you.

Until you feel the slick between your legs start to dribble down your legs.

You raise your head, lips parted to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but immediately still yourself. You find that he’s fallen fast asleep. His heavy frame relaxed fully into the mattress, and his features smoothed and peaceful. You smile to yourself, before letting your head drop back to his chest, finding comfort in the relaxed rhythm of sleep-driven breathing beneath you.

Oh well.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

-

You wake with Jack’s fingers between your legs.

It’s not a rude awakening, but a surprising one. You rise slowly, exhaustion still heavy in your features as you breathe deep, taking in the feel of a heavy body pressed against your back. You just have shifted off of Jack’s chest in your sleep.

Jack’s claw has slipped underneath your panties—still damp from the night before—circling and skimming over your core, and his other claw up under your top rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

The demon knows you're awake not only by the accelerated thrum of your heartbeat in his ears, but by the soft mewls that begin to stir from your lips.

“Good morning, dove,” he grumbles against your shoulder.

“Mm, it’s good so far…”

Jack trails slow, deliberate kisses along your neck and jaw, his lips warm against your skin as his claws, carefully restrained, glide between your thighs. His fingers move with reverence, sweeping through your slick folds, stroking over your clit, circling your entrance—not in a teasing way, but indulgently, like he has all the time in the world to worship you.

And you let him. Melting back against the sheets, your quiet hums of pleasure fill the stillness of the room.

Before long, Jack shifts lower, moving with unhurried ease as he slides your panties over your hips and tosses them aside. His clawed fingers skim along your legs, a fleeting contrast of sharpness and care, before he settles between them. His gaze flickers up to meet yours—heavy-lidded, dark, burning with something that makes your stomach tighten.

He deems to only use one tongue today, mercifully.

He parts you with that same slow reverence, his mouth finding you with unrelenting patience. His tongues, lips, and fingertips work in perfect harmony, a steady, languid rhythm meant to keep you on the edge, drawing pleasure out in slow, rolling waves. He’s in no rush. His only goal is to unravel you completely, to watch you lose yourself in the pleasure he gives.

His eyes flutter shut as he works, lost in it, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightens—just slightly—when you shudder beneath him, muscles tensing, hips shifting to chase his touch. Still, he keeps the pace unhurried, each stroke, each flick of his tongue, a deliberate act of devotion.

When release finally washes over you, it isn’t a sharp, fiery explosion but a deep, all-consuming exhale, as if you’ve surfaced from deep water after being held under for too long. It leaves you trembling, shivering beneath him, your breath coming in soft, uneven sighs.

Jack lingers, savoring the last of your pleasure before finally rising to rejoin you. He braces his forearms on either side of your shoulders, settling between your thighs, the solid heat of his stomach pressing against yours. The weight of him grounds you, but he’s sure to not let himself fully lay atop you. His breath fans warm over your cheek, lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk—rather satisfied with himself.

“What in the world was that for?”

“You know exactly what you did.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your hands across his muscled biceps. Jack leans forward, wrapping his lips with yours, the sweet taste of your release still on his tongue.

The fresh, relaxing air of the morning is quickly shattered as a hurried knock splinters on the other side of Jack’s bedroom door. 

“Hey! Uh-Uhm, Jack!” Toby’s hurried voice reverbs on the other side, the boy sounding just slightly panicked, “Jeff’s kinda been shot—again.”

It’s not without a groaned sigh that Jack lets his head fall onto your shoulder, taking a deep breath as Toby’s footsteps retreat back down the mansion’s hallway.

“Maybe this time I should just let him bleed out,” he groans, raising up and off of you. You’re quick to sit up, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as the demon sits off the edge of the bed.

A quick kiss to his temple, then your lips press against the shell of his ear, “If you hurry, then maybe I’ll hold off on taking a shower until you get back up here for round two.”

Never have you ever seen the demon get dressed and down to the basement that fast.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and kudos are appreciated!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling various CRP pretty boy

Yoinking this prompt from the slasher version of this post because i kind of enjoy this prompt a more than normal amount and I like feeding all my followers regardless of what fandom they follow me for

Characters: Slenderman, Masky, Hoodie, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer

Notes: reader is GN, written on mobile

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

He gives little to no reaction to you, as expected as a lot of forms of affection dont mean all that much to him

Not that he doesn't treat you with love and care, he does because he knows you like it

Receiving is just a little odd for him, possibly because it's so foreign to him- but at least he doesn't reject you!

Asides from his lack of response, there isnt much else to note! Over time he does begin to respond to it if you keep calling him that

MASKY

He doesnt talk all that much so the lack of verbal response doesnt surprise you all that much

He prefers being called handsome, if you insist on saying something about his looks

Mild confusion because hes never taken his mask off around you, the most hes done is lift it up to eat or kiss but even then...

Suspicious that you've peeked when he wasnt aware or conscious- probably not the best nickname

HOODIE

Doesnt talk at all, so once more the lack of verbal response doesnt come as a surprise

You haven't seen his face yet you call him pretty boy... you might actually be able to convince him to take his mask off for you so you can confirm if he really is a pretty boy

He does respond to the name and seems to at least enjoy it a little bit

Will occasionally ignore you until you call him pretty boy, not a common occurence though

TICCI TOBY

Mix of leaning into the name and calling you pretty in return, but I can also see him slightly rejecting it

He knows you mean it, more than likely- but hes so used to not being treated nicely that he cant tell if you're secretly making fun of him or not

Brings it up passively and hides it behind jokes but it's so obvious hes a little suspicious of you

Firmly reassure him that you really do think hes pretty, bonus if you point out specific parts of his face that you like!

EYELESS JACK

He considered himself average before the cult, nowadays he cant look in the mirror... though that's less of a self confidence thing and more of a trauma thing

He has mixed feelings about being called pretty boy, in general and due to the circumstances

Let's you continue calling him pretty boy, quietly keeps his thoughts to himself

He may grow onto it with enough time

LAUGHING JACK

Giddy, he already has the idea that hes cute but the thought that you think hes pretty really does it for him

Returns the energy and says he thinks you're really cute, he could just eat you up!

Takes the sudden nickname really well and adopts it as a new pet name between the two of you

He kind of perks up like a dog when you say a word they like around them

JEFF THE KILLER

Honestly he would expect you to call him pretty boy, though be doesnt need to remind you of something he already knows as fact

Pretty, handsome, cute, beautiful... call him any of those and hes going to let you know he already knew he was attractive

WILL notice if you stop calling him pretty boy, making it a habit... and you just stop calling him that out of the blue

A little huffy about it but hes going to act like hes not pressed about it- he doesn't want to come off as desperate for attention

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

could you do one with the creepy pasta boys where maybe a victim somehow manages to catch them off guard and the reader sees and without thinking nd just out on instinct they end up killing the victim and saving the creepy pasta boys and how they would react to that and seeing the reader covered in blood for the very first time? i’m sorry this is really long😭😭🙏

Wow very cool ask 😮 sorry this took me a bit, I started writing this as headcanons and then I realized that it functioned better as mini ficlets so that’s what I did

Creepypasta boys seeing reader covered in blood for the first time ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, BEN drowned, X Virus, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoodie

Jeff

You had been seeing Jeff for a while, and though you had an inkling about the type of work he did, you’d never pressed too much for details. Knowing what you did about Jeff, even if you had pressed he probably wouldn’t tell you much. But the curiosity was killing you, so you went against your best judgment and followed him, desperate to know the life he led when he wasn’t with you.

He had just corned his victim, starting with a few slashes to get them riled up before he went in for the kill. You weren’t the best at hiding. Very quickly, you caught his eye and he was completely thrown off. You weren’t supposed to see this.

Taking the distraction as a chance to escape with their life, the victim attacks Jeff, knocking his knife out of his hand and tackling him.

Oh no.

This was all your fault, you shouldn’t have came but… now you needed to do something. In a flash, you had picked up his weapon without thinking, guttural screams erupting from you as you stabbed it into the victims back, over and over until they weren’t moving anymore. Jeff was stunned, seeing your face covered in blood as you panted. The adrenaline wore off and you crumpled to your knees. He pushed the body off of him, not knowing what to think as he looked at you.

In a way, he almost felt… emasculated. He totally could’ve handled it if you hadn’t interfered. Did you think he was weak?

On the other hand, seeing how far you’d go for him only filled him with more adoration for you. He never wants you to do it again, but it was endearing that you’d do it at all.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to interfere.” You were stumbling over your words, feeling so panicked.

“Didn’t realize you were so stuck on me.” He said smugly, drawing you out of your head. He pulled your body close to him, lifting your chin. “I can’t lie though, you look pretty hot like this.”

Now your heart was racing for a different reason.

“You’re not mad at me?” You asked in a small voice.

God, he loved you to death. You’d just witnessed him about to murder someone for the first time and you were worried about him being mad at you.

“Of course not.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “But don’t ever do that again. I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart.”

Toby

Toby didn’t mind bringing you on missions. In fact, he kind of loved it.

As long as you didn’t get too close.

He’d never want anything to happen to you, so he made sure you’d maintain distance if you came with him. Which was never really an issue. You had an incredible ability to just block out what Toby was doing.

He could just pop some headphones on you and leave you in the car and you’d sit there patiently until he was finished. Other times, you were allowed to watch from a short distance, so long as you were out of the way.

Today, you were perched up in a tree, watching from above as Toby took care of his victim down below.

Toby was the type to “play with his food” so to speak. He would often chase his victims around, making gashes and cuts in their arms and legs until it got too hard for them to run.

This victim was particularly vigorous, despite the extensive damage to their body, they were still fighting tooth and nail for their life. Toby didn’t mind that really, he couldn’t feel any of the pain they were inflicting on him, so it was all the same.

It wasn’t uncommon for Toby to sustain a bit of damage after a mission… but this time it was getting bad. They were really getting some hits on Toby, and while he wasn’t flinching at the damage, you were. An anxious feeling was rising in your chest. You knew Toby had no way to gauge when the damage was too bad.

After a particularly harsh blow, you couldn’t take it anymore. You dropped down from the tree, grabbing one of his hatchets that he dropped earlier in the encounter.

In a flash you had bolted toward the victim, swinging the hatchet at their throat. The blood spattered all over you, and yet you felt nothing as their body sunk to the ground, finally lifeless.

“Why -fuck- did you do that?” Toby eyed you with giddy curiosity.

“They were hurting you.” You said simply, tossing the hatchet to the ground. The weight of your actions hadn’t reached you yet.

He bit his lip, grabbing your body and trapping you in a bear hug. “This is almost better than seeing you covered in my cum.”

Your face went red at his vulgar comment, but you couldn’t help but just sigh, sinking into his hold.

Needless to say, he was obsessed with you, even more than before. While he had no problem taking care of his own kills, he’d definitely need to see you do that again.

Eyeless Jack

Murder was a sin you’d never even think to commit. You hated the idea of it all together, and anyone who would do something like that.

But ever since you met Jack, you understood that sometimes it could be a necessity.

He was so gentle to you, so loving. It wasn’t his fault that his body could only survive off organs. You’d come to accept long ago that, in order for this man you loved dearly to live, others must die.

But you never thought you’d be fully confronted with that reality.

Jack came to you one day, horribly injured, barely clinging to life. You were shocked and horrified. He was a demon. How could anyone even inflict this much damage on him?

Slenderman had found out about his relationship with you, and as such Jack was punished. The evil entity had harshly reminded him that proxies weren’t allowed to find love outside the mansion.

Your eyes filled with tears, holding him in your arms. “Jack I’m sorry…. I shouldn’t have…. I don’t know…” you were at a loss of what to say.

He lifted his hand, gently cupping your face. “Don’t be. I’ll never regret loving you.”

“What can I do…? I… how should I help you?” You asked.

He’d already bandaged up the wounds, using his knowledge to stop the bleeding, but there was another problem.

How would Jack hunt?

You could never kill someone, but what could you do in this situation? This time it was necessary. Jack needed to eat. You couldn’t watch him writhe in agony like this. He’d never heal if he was starving.

You didn’t even dare raise the question. You knew he’d just tell you it would be fine. But you knew it wouldn’t be.

So you did what needed to be done.

When you came back, covered in blood, Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I brought you something…” you said in a small voice.

His jaw was dropped open. “How did you…” he trailed off, knowing he already knew the answer.

He was so unbelievably grateful, but he was almost in tears. He never wanted you to have to do that for him.

He was so conflicted by the sight of you covered in blood. You were so delicate, so gorgeous. His heart swelled with adoration for you, knowing you were more important to him than anything else in this world.

However, at the same time, he etched the image into his mind. He’d make sure he never saw you like that again.

BEN drowned

Ben loved you. He truly did. That’s why he liked to push you sometimes.

“If you really love me, you’ll kill for me.”

Your jaw dropped when you heard the words he’d said.

This wasn’t the first time Ben had tested your love for him. All the other times you didn’t mind to do as he asked. He needed the reassurance, and you didn’t mind providing it to him.

But this was…

He wanted to see how far you’d go. He wanted to see if you were truly as devoted to him as you claimed to be.

Would you throw away your humanity for him?

You swallowed hard, finally directing your eyes to the person tied up in the corner of the room. Their body was completely bound and their eyes were blindfolded. You could only hear muffled whimpers coming from their duct taped mouth.

You felt sick. You couldn’t imagine how scared they must be.

“Ben, I-I-I just can’t.” Your voice shook as you stumbled over your words.

His face fell, his expression looking so deeply hurt. It made your heart twist, but the thought of doing what he was worse.

“I’m already making this so easy for you. I’m not asking you to hunt someone down and dismember them. All you have to do is slit their throat.” The knife is his hand gleamed in the light.

Your body just shook. What the fuck were you supposed to do?

“Fine. I’ll help you do it.” He pushed your body closer to your victim, handing you the knife.

You whimpered as he grabbed your hand, guiding it towards the person’s neck. It was so much quicker than you’d expected. Your knife sliced through their skin, blood splattered all over you, and in just a matter of seconds they were dead on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t believe you’d actually done it. You were horrified, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, covered in blood. You felt so disgusted, trying not to puke at the sight.

But Ben had never seen you look prettier.

X Virus

The lab was such an intriguing place to you. Not only because Cody was there, but because of the type of work he did in there.

You could never really understand all the stuff he talked about, but you were learning little by little, and you were fascinated by all he taught you.

You were perched up on top of one of the lab tables when Cody came in, the newest victim slung over his shoulder. He put them down on the table, their chest still rising and falling.

This one was just asleep, not dead yet. He was patient today.

If you were lucky, like today, you actually got to see Cody test new viruses. It was an experience like no other, seeing all the effects on a persons body. It exhilarated you. Well, for the most part. Just up until the death.

You didn’t love that part but… it was a necessary sacrifice. The work he was doing was so important. He needed subjects to test on, so you’d long accepted that this was part of the process.

“You contained yourself today.” You smiled.

He set his bat down, coming over to pat you on the head. “I really wanted you to see this one.”

You were already buzzing with excitement. “Well let’s see it.”

“Just one second. This formulation has to be kept at a very specific temperature.” He went to go retrieve the mixture while you tried to wait patiently.

You eyed the victim, noticing them start to stir a bit. They weren’t bound at all, completely free, lying on the table.

“Cody…?” You called.

There was no answer.

Suddenly the victim jolted up, fully alert and awake. They screamed until their eyes settled on you, and then they immediately lunged for you.

You dodged quickly, your heart racing. The adrenaline had you acting quickly, picking up Cody’s bat.

You swung and swung, and by the time you were done the lab was covered in red. You panted, sinking down to the floor.

Cody finally returned, almost dropping the vial when he saw the state of the lab. But then he saw you, and he immediately set it aside and dropped to the floor, holding your body.

“What happened?”

“They just suddenly got up and started attacking me. I didn’t know what to do.” Your voice was panicked. “I’m sorry… the experiment…” you trailed off.

“Hey, it’s okay. You did the right thing.” He shushed you, gently petting your hair. “I’d never want any harm to come your way.”

He was shocked honestly, he didn’t think you were capable of doing that. At the same time, he was so impressed with you. You were so much stronger than he thought.

Tim/Masky

Tim always wanted his lives to remain separate. Masky’s existence made that pretty easy for him.

That was until you became a part of his life.

He loved you. He couldn’t stand being away from you, even when he wasn’t himself. It seemed Masky had grown pretty fond of you too.

But like all good things in his life, everything became tainted by that vile entity. It loved finding new ways to torture Tim.

A mission right in the area you live in? Great. Just great.

He had his victim in an alleyway, hoping to get this over quickly. Having you see him do this was his worst nightmare.

“Tim…?”

He was filled with dread to see you stopped right in front of the alley, just as he was about to off his victim. Your eyes went wide and his stomach dropped.

He froze, completely unable to move. You quickly regained your senses after the shock, flying over to Tim, holding his face in your hands. “Tim…! Tim….!”

You were trying to get him to respond to you, but he was stuck. You heard a groan and looked over to the victim that was still lying on the ground next to you two.

You were at a loss of what to do. You needed to get Tim out of here, but suddenly something he had told you in the past had popped into your head.

If Tim didn’t finish out his jobs, he would be killed.

Your stomach dropped. You grabbed Tim’s shoulders, shaking him a bit. “Tim… please….!”

It was no use. You realized what you had to do. You grabbed the metal pipe that Tim had dropped earlier, hoping you could make this quick.

Tears streamed down your face as you finished Tim’s job, crumpling to your knees as soon as it was over.

Tim watched you in shock, trapped inside his own body, helpless to stop you but forced to watch.

After that night, you hadn’t seen Tim.

He couldn’t bring himself to be near you after that. The image of just how much he had tainted you haunting him. He wasn’t worthy of being around you, not after what he forced you to do.

You wondered if it was your fault. Endlessly reaching out to him with no answer.

After weeks without hearing from him, you started to feel restless. You didn’t know how you were feeling, unable to discern what was bringing you back to the alley where you’d bludgeoned someone to death.

But it was the last place you saw Tim.

You walked into it, just a plain old alley. You scoffed, not even sure why you had come here. Until you looked up and saw him.

“Tim…?” You almost didn’t believe your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry…. I shouldn’t…. But I missed you too much.”

“It wasn’t your fault just… please don’t ever leave again…” your voice was choked up with tears.

“I won’t.” His voice was certain as he held you close to him.

Brian/Hoodie

Brian was never afraid to show his true nature to you. He’d long accepted that Hoodie was a part of him and that murder was a part of his life.

Which is why he knew it had to be you.

From the moment he’d met you, he could see it. Just something different about the way you carried yourself or maybe it was that look in your eyes.

Something told him you wouldn’t flinch at the graphic displays you’d surely witness if you were around him often enough.

Sure enough, he was right. You didn’t seem to mind the nature of his work, even to the point where he could bring you while he did it.

You’d take any excuse to be with Brian anyways and Hoodie was pretty exciting to be around too. Overtime, as your adoration of Brian grew, so did your interest in his work.

You’d never had these urges before, but something about seeing Brian do it just made it seem appealing almost.

You tried to keep it under control. What would Brian think? I mean yeah, he did it, but he was also kind of inescapably bound to an evil entity that was forcing him to do so. You didn’t have a reason. Maybe he would be disgusted with you. There was no way you could tell him how you were feeling.

Although you thought you were good at concealing your interest, Brian had started to notice it pretty early on. He wondered when you’d get the guts to ask him, but months had passed without a word from you.

One day he had brought you on a mission. It was a fairly easy kill, the victim would be easy to take out.

Just as he was going in for the kill, he stopped, turning to you.

“Wanna give it a go?” He asked, extending his arm out to you, holding a knife.

“What…?” You were so thrown off. Had you heard him right?

“I said, wanna give it a go?” He reemphasized his words.

You hesitantly took the knife, still unsure if he was playing a joke on you. But when you looked at his face it seemed like he was serious.

You hesitantly stepped forward, looking over the victim before swinging the knife down quickly, stabbing them.

You loved the feeling, repeating the action over and over until you were covered in blood, panting from the exertion. You were so hyper fixated on the kill that Brian’s voice startled you.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had it in ya.” He chuckled, ruffling your hair.

“I…” you were embarrassed about how into it you had gotten.

“You look very cute like this.” He smiled, taking your hand and helping you up.

Your heart fluttered. He accepted you. You couldn’t believe it.

“Alright, now let’s take care of this junk.” He joked, lightly kicking the body.

Hope you enjoyed!!!! :3 sorry if this doesn’t fit the prompt exactly, I wanted to switch up the scenarios to make it fit the characters a bit better

[bloodblanks]

masterlist — creepypasta + marble hornets

characters: eyeless jack, hoodie, masky, ticci toby, jeff the killer, ben drowned, slenderman

all works are reader insert [character x fem reader]

author's note: dead dove: do not eat. the following works may contain dark, explicit content, including rape/non-con, dub-con, stockholm syndrome, ‘yandere’ tropes, abuse, death, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

if you wish to see more content, please consider commissioning me! ♡

creepypasta boyfriend quiz

eyeless jack

tili tili bom | one | two | three

a field of red spider lilies | one | two | three | final

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

hoodie / brian thomas

solace | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

masky / timothy ‘tim’ wright

solace | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

ticci toby / tobias erin ‘toby’ rogers

pumpkin head | one

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

jeff the killer / jeffrey woods

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

ben drowned

30 frames per second | one

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

slenderman / the operator

feverish and faint

first encounter

when you’re sad

punishment

kinks

miscellaneous work

creepypasta pet headcanons

creepypasta video game headcanons

creepypasta pet name headcanons

creepypasta height headcanons

[timoogi]

MADNESS IN MANSION AU MAIN CHARACTERS !

DISCLAIMER: this is just my au to have fun with, so not everything is gonna be completely accurate or “canon!” A lot of these characters have different stories from their source materials! And also this au is mostly about friendship, love, and family! It’s just something I think is cute and fun to work on! :3 Also also! Since some of them don’t have catchphrases, I made up little quotes!

The main cast! The main line up! The main players!

More info is down below!! :D

Judge Angels — “I will sentence you!” — Dina Clark was brought in by Slenderman while on the run for killing their CEO father and most of their family’s staff. Traveling with them, their mother’s corpse neatly packed in a suitcase. They just wanted to find a safe place for their beloved mother to finally rest.

Bloody Painter — “Don’t be excited for tomorrow.” — Helen Otis sought out Slenderman after realizing the police were hot on his trail. The pressures of life had built up, and all he wanted to do was create a new world from scratch. One filled to the brim with beauty and art. The world will bend to his will.

Ticci Toby — “Follows…” — After moving from Wisconsin to Alabama, Toby Roger’s life spiraled out of control. He had endured countless hardships, and the death of his sister was more than he could take. After burning it all to the ground, Slenderman gave him a place to seek refuge.

Jeff the Killer — “Go to sleep.” — Some people are dealt a shitty hand. Jeffery Woods’ life was standard, but that didn’t make it easy. In high school, things only got worse. At the hands of his peers he was burned alive. He survived, but his mind had completely shattered. He wants to pick up the pieces.

Homicidal Liu — “Today’s a better day.” — Liu Woods had always done his best to be a proper older sibling. He wanted nothing more to protect his younger brother. Maybe that’s why he barely fought back when his brother attempted to kill him. There was a moment of hesitation, and in that moment he ran. Slenderman had found him bleeding out, he promised he could keep him alive.

Eyeless Jack — “Do no harm.” — Jack Nyras had his whole life ahead of him. He was at university studying to be a doctor. However, unexpected things can happen at any moment. What was supposed to be a college party had turned into nothing short of cult activity, Jack being their ultimate sacrifice. He doesn’t remember much after their torture, only that Slenderman had found him bloodied and fundamentally changed in the forest.

Kate the Chaser — “Don’t look…or it takes you.” — Sometimes Slenderman sees potential. Slenderman saw great potential in Kate Milens. But not just anyone can become a proxy. Kate had gone through multiple trials without even knowing, always coming out favorably in the Slenderman’s opinion. Being so close to Slenderman, however, comes with symptoms… consequences.

Nina the Killer — “Go to sleep, my prince!” — Childhood friends with Liu, Jeff, and their friend Jane, Nina Hopkins was always a bright and cheery force of nature. Despite her efforts to get along with her peers, rumors had a way of creeping up. It was a good thing she had her friends to lean on. She always had her friends. She’d always have her friends. Friends don’t give up on each other.

Eyeless Lulu — “Gimme your eyes.” — Lucille-Tiffany Greatfeild never had luck making friends. It seemed no matter what she did, her peers found her weird. Growing up, she was a lonely child, however, going to college filled her with determination to break out of her shell and at least make a few acquaintances. She was befriended by a group of peers who were seemingly kind and caring, but sometimes things are too good to be true. Having heard of an new internet legend, they pressured Lulu into playing a stupid game, performing a silly ritual. They all paid the price.

Clockwork — “Time’s up.” — Natalie Ouellette came from a broken home. Ever since she was young, she was starkly aware of how unfair life can be. She had poor health as a child, often in and out of doctor offices due to various reasons, a bad flu or broken bones. Every time she exited the hospital, she heard the tick in her head, like her time was running out, being wasted, rotting away. As she grew up, this tick only got louder. Time was against her, and the abuse was getting worse. She had to do something. And she did do something. And then she ran.

BEN Drowned — “You’ve met with a terrible fate!” — Benjamin Lawman was a very lively boy. He loved making friends, drinking soda, and of course, frequenting arcades and internet cafes! Life for him was simple, it was perfect! But there are things that are out of your control, circumstances one is born into. Divorce is hard for the whole family to go through, but Ben had hope, an optimistic outlook. The look in his father’s eyes was scary as they drove to the lake alone, but his father was a rational man. Surely there was a rational explanation for all of this.

Sally — “Wanna play?” — Sally Williams had just turned 12! Her birthday party was held in Loblolly’s very own, new and shiny park! The year was 1973 and the summer air was warm and inviting. Sally had just finished opening her gifts, her favorite being a new teddy bear from her mom and dad. A true friend, soft and kind. While many kids showed up to her party, they didn’t have good intentions. One girl suggested they play a game before Sally got to the piñata. They blindfolded her, giggling and exclaiming, “We’ll guide you!” Really, they just wanted to see if they could get her lost. What they didn’t account for was the truck barreling down the road as they told her to cross it.

Lazari Swann — “I can do this!” — Lazari Swann never knew her mother and father. Her mother had died during childbirth, leaving her to the care of foster homes. She did her best. She made the best of any situation, always selfless, always helpful. But as she grew up, it gnawed at the back of her mind. Her father… where had he gone? Who was he? What did he look like? She only had one clue, a picture from her mother’s photo album with a location marked: Loblolly, Alabama. She’d get her answers one way or another.

Masky — “Always watches, no eyes.” — Tim Wright is a man of few words now. Not many know of how he came to be so reliable in the Slenderman’s eye, why he’s so guarded and keeps to himself, why he’s so close with Brian. They just know that his word is to be trusted, he knows what he’s doing. He is regarded as the most capable human in the mansion, and despite his attempts to keep everyone at a distance, many of the mansion’s inhabitants look to him for guidance.

Hoodie — “Can’t run.” — Brian Thomas is just as reliable, but because of his elusive nature, many don’t know how to read him quite right. He is more personable than Tim, handling most of the talking when the two of them are together. Brian is easy going, despite his circumstances, and can even crack a few light hearted jokes. But no one really knows much about him. Still, people in the mansion recognize his survivability and will take his guidance if Tim isn’t around.

Nurse Ann — “It won’t hurt… much.” — In the 1800s, there was a hospital in the woods of Loblolly, and Ann Lusen Mia worked there. She was a dutiful nurse, very caring and dedicated to her job. She believed in the good of humanity, and cherished being able to care for the sick and injured. A doctor within the hospital, a colleague of hers, informed her that he was working on a new method of care and asked her to be a part of it. She agreed, enthusiastic for the progress of medicine. Little did she know she would be the experiment. As she felt herself dying, she pleaded with any entity she could to help her, save her, and that was enough for Zalgo to offer her a deal.

Laughing Jack — “Round and round the mulberry bush…!” — The Laughing Jack is a mystery to many. He is a demon, taking the form of a monochrome clown with many nonsensical traits. He speaks in riddles and rhymes for the most part, always eccentric and mind-bending. He thoroughly enjoys being a nuisance to humans, a pest, a bother, but when it comes to more sensitive people or children, he can actually be quite a sweetheart. His morals are unknown to anyone as he is not tied to Slenderman or Zalgo and acts on his own accord. He seems to favor Slenderman though, for whatever reason, and so he has become a trusted ally!

Slenderman — “…” — The Slenderman’s origins are unknown. He has existed for thousands of years. After a gruesome battle with the underworld’s ruler, Zalgo, Slenderman was severely weakened. The battle ended in a stalemate, though it was surely in Zalgo’s favor. Too close to a victory for Slenderman’s liking. At the end of their battle, Slenderman had used most of his energy to lock Zalgo in the underworld dimension for good, but his seal wasn’t perfect. Many zalgoid creatures can still access earth, but as long as it’s not Zalgo himself, he has time. He started taking in lost and weary souls in hopes of building an army. He feeds off negative energy, his mansion feeds off negative energy, the forest feeds off negative energy. But what he didn’t expect was that these beings, human and possessed and undead alike, have started making him feel. He cares for them. And this care might be just what he needs to get rid of Zalgo for good.

[lordprettyflackotara]

hostage || bloody painter / helen otis

‘it’s not like me to be so mean, you’re all i wanted. just let me hold you, like a hostage.”

sum: after being kidnapped by the bloody painter, he expects you to be terrified beyond belief. to resent him. instead stockholm syndrome ensues faster than he could’ve imagined, resulting in you partaking in the most dangerous love affair

tw: smut minors dni 18+. kidnapping, yandere-ish themes, stockholm syndrome, choking, bath sex

an: something about helen being yandere just… makes sense?

Helen Otis was in love with you.

There was no way around it, no way over it. He adored the ground you walked on. The air you breathed. The water you drank and bathed in. The clothes you wore. The list was endless. All of these things were sacred for him.

It started off simple, admiring your beauty from a far and swearing to protect you. It only escalated from there. Paranoia was an irrational thing. Helen knew that. But the fear of a meteor crashing into your house or a poisonous spider biting you, only justified his own paranoia to him. You were only human. Despite his sudden wishes that they weren’t, they were utterly disposable.

So Helen did what he thought was best. He snuck into your house and laced your morning tea with something he found in Eyeless Jack’s stash. He ensured it was diluted enough not to kill you, but to make you pass out. So he waited. Standing ominously in the cupboard of your kitchen and waited. There was only a crack, only a small sliver of sight for him to admire you through. As anticipated you followed your morning routine, resulting in you collapsing onto the kitchen floor.

He tried not to harm you too much as he shackled you to the dead bolts secured on the floor of his art room. Helen had gathered a mattress and proper sheets. He wanted to ensure you were comfortable while adjusting to your new surroundings. He anticipated protest, silently observing as he waited for you to awaken. You looked so peaceful as you slept. Helen expected you to be upset when you awoken, so he purposefully soaked in your serenity while it lasted.

After a few hours you stirred, unsurely blinking your eyes awake. You seemed surprised at first, scanning the room. Your eyes landed on Helen, the killer soaking in the beautiful color of them as you stared at him. “H-Hi,” You sputtered. You tucked some stray hairs behind your ears. Helen was shocked at your calmness, walking back and forth as he studied you. He slowly approached you, not wanting to spook you. He kneeled down to your level. “Hello there. I’m Helen. I already know your beautiful name,” He greeted, delivering a sincere smile. You gave him a small one in return. Your calmness was odd to him. Usually his victims were a lot more scared, typically screaming and thrashing like they had gone mad.

Not you though.

Instead your sights soared around the room. “Is this your art studio?” You asked timidly. Helen felt himself gleam with pride. “Why yes, yes it is,” He informed you. You went to stand, your shackles stopping you. Awkwardly you plopped back down onto the mattress, still focused on soaking in your surroundings. “It’s beautiful, i’ve never seen anything quite like it,” You answered. Helen flushed with joy at your compliment, immediately working on undoing your shackles. “I apologize for these. I wanted to ensure you wouldn’t hurt yourself,” Helen rambled. The shackles fell to the floor with a thud, your body immediately curling upwards into a stretch. Your shoulders popped as you pulled your oversized shirt down. With your bare feet hitting the cold floor, you went over to admire his art collection.

An entire wall of the room was dedicated to his work, canvas’s upon canvas’s covering every square inch. “Do you fancy the arts?” Helen asked, meeting you by your side. He puffed his chest out as he held his hands behind his back. “I’ve never given it much thought, but yours are marvelous. I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” You admitted timidly. You oddly felt at home, as if you had been in this room millions of times before. You noticed one painting in particular, the faded brown one you recognized. A wave of nausea washed over you as your fingertips graded the canvas.

“Is this blood?”

“Yes it is.”

This was it. This was the moment you’d snap out of your entranced haze and see Helen for the monster he truly was. Instead your eyes went wide, tears flooding your waterline. “You’re not going to kill me right? I-I really think i’d be comfortable here and you seem really nice,” You whimpered lowly. Instant regret washed over Helen as he cupped your face with his hands. His ocean eyes stared down into yours, his thumb stroking your cheek, “I could never hurt you my dear. I just want to stay with you. Forever.”

After that, everything fell into place. You and Helen immediately clicked, your codependency issues resulting in falling in love with a man you barely knew. His homicidal tendencies and fetishes didn’t scare you. You found it endearing in a way, that he’d keep you pristine and clean and explore those urges on others. Helen treated you like a princess, pampering you with whatever you needed or wanted. You had never eaten so well in your life. His care didn’t stop there, stealing the most lavish clothes he could get his hands on.

You were everything he could ask for and then some.

Your days were spent wondering the mansion, Helen making it very clear to the other residents you were off limits. He found your friendliness adorable, your mornings spent cooking his fellow residents breakfast. Otherwise when he was out you were in the library, studying the endless books lined on ancient shelves. Helen overlooked your codependency stockholm syndrome, while you overlooked him being a massive serial killer. The two of you became the perfect assemble, complimenting each other in every way possible.

You sat across from him in his pristine bathroom, kept in marvelous condition for a piece from the previous century. Up until now Helen had never seen you naked, just a few slips here and there. You slept alongside him in his bed, meaning the reveal of your more private areas was bound to occur. Especially with the scandalous night slips he got you. He sat across from you in the tub, drinking a glass of wine as you smoked a cigarette. “You know Im not fond of smoking,” Helen said. His gaze was stern, but even he couldn’t deny you smoking was so attractive. “Masky gave it to me as a gift since I made him chocolate chip muffins. You know they’re his favorite,” You answered. Helen could withstand the smell of cigarettes, but he feared about the long term damage they may cause you.

“Ahh yes. Masky isn’t an easy man to please. Good job dear,” Helen said, smiling as he took another sip of his wine. His gaze fell down to your breast, that were modestly covered by the soapy bubbles. The room smelled of vanilla and cigarettes, a combination Helen was beginning to find himself attracted to. “Did you finish that piece you were working on?” You asked, exhaling the cigarette smoke. Helen sheepishly grinned, relishing in the feeling of someone properly enjoying his art. “I did. Took an extra life or two to complete it, but nevertheless it’s done,” Helen grinned. You set the cigarette on the ash tray, another gift from given to you by Hoodie.

You sank lower into the bath, allowing your chin to be under the water. “Hmm this is so nice. This was a great idea,” You hummed. Your eyes fluttered shut, your long eyelashes beautiful enough to make Helen stare for days. He felt heat rush to his cheeks as your legs rubbed against his, the killer clearing his throat in an attempt to ease the tension. “Royalty like yourself deserves a nice bath,” Helen answered modestly. You sat back up, the bubbles poorly concealing your perky nipples. Helen swallowed at the sight, forcing himself to look at your face instead. He noticed some suds still covering your chin.

“Oh dear you have something on your chin, let me get it,” He said, leaning forward. The tension in the room only rose as he wiped the bubbles off of your chin. Your eyes met his, before flickering down to his lips. Helen had purposefully not made an advancement towards you, wanting you to settle in first. Although a visiting Eyeless Jack deemed you as the ‘perfect mate’, Helen wanted to ensure you were comfortable. He avoided thinking too much about your clingy behavior. You attached yourself to him every chance you got. But now it was all coming to a halt, your face pleading for him to kiss you.

So he did.

You tasted like bubblegum and cigarettes, the taste intoxicating as he kissed you deeply. Instinctively you found yourself crawling to him, ignoring the water splashing around the tub. You straddled him, your cheeks red as you reattached yourself to his lips. A shiver ran down your spine as his soft hands grabbed your hips, guiding you to lower yourself down further. His cock hardened under the feeling of your folds, a soft groan escaping your lips as he rubbed his shaft up and down your slick. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hungry and desperate to be closer to him.

“Have you ever done this before?” Helen asked, his voice dry and lustful. You nervously pulled away from his lips, your hips grinding up and down his shaft. His tip brushed against your clit with ease, your heart beginning to race. “Unfortunately I have. I wish I hadn’t though. I would’ve saved myself for you,” You whispered.

Your words put Helen on a high not even heroin could produce.

“Well then, i’ll make sure to fuck you like it’s your first time then,” He replied, his voice low with hunger. He licked his dry lips, before slipping his hand down to your eager cunt. He began to draw slow circles around your clit, causing you to hiss. “Helen please, I need you now,” You whined. He bit his bottom lip, guiding his cock down to your entrance. “Be careful what you ask for darling. Now lower yourself down,” Helen ordered. You slowly lowered yourself down on his cock, grabbing his shoulders and bracing yourself for the stretch.

“Are you sure you’ve done this before?” Helen panted, feeling your walls cling to him desperately. You groaned as you continued to sink down onto his, before finally feeling his tip brush against your g spot. “It’s been a long, long time,” You admitted sheepishly. Your cheeks were flushed as you began to move your hips, your gaze meeting Helen’s. His ocean eyes were captivating, your mouth falling into the shape of an O as you began to ride him. Warm water carelessly splashed on the floor, your body a slave to the pleasure only Helen could provide you. “You’re so tight, heavens,” He grumbled.

He didn’t even need to help you, your body was craving his. The way his cock abused your g spot set your soul on fire, your body gladly accepting the flames. You tilted your head back, giving Helen a clear view of your throat. He watched you swallow as your unholy noises bounced off of the bathroom walls. Your cunt was captivating, much tighter than anything he had ever experienced before. Before he could stop himself his hand shot out of the water, grabbing your throat.

You gasped as water droplets hit the tub, his fingers tightening. “You like this, huh? Tell me you like it,” He snarled. You panted for air, your heart pounding against your chest. “I- like i-it,” You sputtered, your hand cupping his veiny arm. Helen smirked in a cruel satisfaction as he began to thrust upwards into you, pounding your cunt mercilessly. Curses fell off of your lips, causing Helen to frown. “Such a filthy mouth. Moan my name darling. Moan it now,” He commanded. You repeated his name until your throat was sore, your vocal cords gone raw.

Helen could feel that you were close, forcing your head to tilt backwards as he choked you. “There there. You can handle it little one. Cum for me,” He hummed. Your body was a slave to Helen, your mind and now body at his disposal. Your vision went white, your mouth open and gasping for air as he released your throat. You were seeing stars, unable to process Helen cumming deep inside of you. He rested your head against his shoulder, lovingly stroking your back. His cock was still buried inside of you, keeping his cum buried in your womb.

“It’s okay darling. I only do these things because I love you,” He cooed. You could feel tears arising in your waterline, your body exhausted as you submitted to him. Helen hummed to himself as he stroked your back, his fingertips grazing his skin. You’d always be, his precious little hostage.

[horny-marbles]

Hi Beautiful!! I’ve been following your work and I love it soooo much :) Could you possibly do some sort of smut with EJ? My idea is the female reader convinced him to get a matching eyebrow or tongue piercing with her, and she’s the one piercing him? Or if you wanna mess the concept , I’m totally cool with that! Thank you so much, hope you have a lovely day <3 (sorry if that didn’t make sense, English isn’t my primary language)

hi angel!! thank you so much teehee 🫶🏻🫶🏻 this is so fucking hot and fun, pierced/body mod jack owns about 80% of my brain and the entirety of my heart, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it hehe <3

Balltongue (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)

CW: needles and piercing tongues duh, unsafe piercing handling, dry humping, oral (f receiving and giving), sloppy toppy fr, throatpie :P

word count 3.9k

You weren’t even sure how you got him to agree. You’d begged. Bargained. Maybe pouted a little. Maybe muttered "please let me pierce you so we can match" every time you sucked his dick, thinking that if you caught him off guard he would relent. He didn't.

But after a month or two of stubborn, stonewalling deadpan refusals—based on medical risks he listed to you more times than you could count—and attrition warfare, Jack finally caved with this heavy, world-weary sigh like he's doing something awful instead of agreeing to be hot and slutty for you.

Which brought you here, perched in his lap on his bed, thighs bracketing his hips and the mattress creaking under both your weight and his patience. Elbow deep in prep like you’re about to perform minor surgery instead of pierce his tongues; a pair of his gloves snapped tight on your hands and a tray of tools laid out beside you like you know what the fuck you’re doing. Which—let’s be real—you kind of do. You pierced your own tongue months ago. Healed by the time he resigned. Perfectly centered? No. Hot as fuck? Absolutely.

Jack, for his part, looks like a man walking calmly toward the gallows. Not that he’s anxious—just unimpressed. Still steady on his idea that this is unnecessary trauma to a perfectly functional part of the body. But here you are.

“Remind me again,” he muttered before spitting out the mouthwash in the same cup you handed him, grimacing like the taste offended him, “why the fuck I need three piercings when you got one?”

"I have one tongue, babe," you grinned, "you're the freak with a trifecta of slimy muscle in your mouth. It's only fair."

"What's fair," Jack grunted, leaning back against the headboard with a flat look, hands heavy on your thighs like he was bracing for execution, "is anatomical equality."

"Exactly. That's why you're getting three," you quipped cheerfully, leaning over him with the piercing needle hovering close to his face. "Stop glaring at me and stick one of them out."

"I don't have eyes," he exhales through his nose, the sound low and even more annoyed than usual. But he tips his head back obediently anyway, throat bare, mouth opening like a drawbridge lowering with military precision, offering the first tongue with a robotic kind of patience.

"I can feel it," you huffed a laugh, adjusting your position with a small roll of your hips, just enough for your heat to rub into his lap. He doesn't comment. "Ready?"

"No." Utterly blank, but he didn't pull away.

You even went as far as to flip it up to check the placement of the veins on the bottom—real professional-like—before placing the tip of the first needle on the seam in the muscle and pushing through. Jack didn't even blink. His hands tightened on your thighs when the needle sliced through tissue, but there was no sound, no protest. Just that slight pull where skin meets metal, and then a quieter exhale when you thread the bar through.

You pulled back to inspect your work before he retracted his tongue and clicked the piercing against his teeth to check the new weight, and the throb between your legs was near instant.

"You already look so fucking hot," you bit your lip, tossing the needle in the trashcan at the foot of the bed without taking your eyes off his mouth, "you okay?"

He paused, and you swore you could feel his cock twitch under you, hardening. Or maybe your imagination was starting to get away from you with the mental image you conjured up—his mouth between your legs like he's nosing into fruit, piercing balls rubbing over your folds, catching on your clit, like having more to work with meant using all of it.

"Ask me when you're done assaulting all three."

You reach for the second tongue, knees planted firmly into the mattress, barely controlling the urge to grind down on him again. He extends it with a slight roll of his jaw, letting the others stay curled behind his teeth. You admire the way his throat bobs when he swallows, the muscle moving in his jaw, how together he looks even now—like no matter how turned on he gets, no matter how wet you’re getting on his lap, he’s not gonna crack until he wants to.

This time, his hips jump under you when the second needle goes in. Just a reflexive jolt. But it’s enough. Enough to make your cunt pulse around nothing and to make you bite down on your bottom lip, the curve of your mouth twisting up around it.

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” you croon mockingly, leaning in so your breath ghosts over his mouth. “So quiet. So obedient. Is it turning you on, baby? Letting me sit in your lap and poke holes in you?”

You quickly give up the restraint you barely had to begin with and you grind down again, slow and deliberate, dampening spot on your crotch rubbing right against the thick press of his cock under you, now rock solid.

The second needle is still threaded through his tongue when his brows furrow—deep, offended, like you just personally insulted him. And maybe you did, a little. He's sitting here with his tongue pinned by a glint of steel and you're dry humping instead of finishing the job.

But he can’t say shit. Literally. So instead, his palm smacks firm and sharp over your ass, fingers curling tightly in the aftermath, claws stinging where they poke through your leggings. Not playful. Not punishing. Just directive.

Your breath catches, stomach tightening in knots. “Jesus,” you mutter, laughing a little, “Okay. Impatient.”

You hold the barbell up to his mouth like a lollipop, gently guiding it through the second tongue as you hum, voice thick with syrup and bite, "Can't wait to feel these on my pussy, baby."

He doesn't react, but he does breathe heavier through his nose. Barely. But you catch it, another sharp throb under you. You glance down and smile, sharp and vicious. You keep going, because you fucking got him. And how could you turn down the opportunity to rile him up when it presents itself?

“Thinking about how it’s gonna feel when I sit on your face,” you murmur, soft and sultry as the barbell slides into place, “how you'll make me cum all over your mouth with these decked out tongues."

Jack’s hands twitch against your hips like he wants to argue. But he doesn’t. He just exhales again, slower this time, and flexes his fingers. You can feel how wound up he is, tension coiled tight under his skin like he's moments away from going off like a firearm.

He sticks out the third tongue on command, calm again, like he’s not actively dying to pin you down and fuck you stupid. When it slid forward, it trembled slightly at the tip.

"Aw," you crooned softly. "This one’s scared."

"No," he croaked flatly, "it's smarter than the other ones."

You snorted and leaned closer, mouth brushing his ear. “Want me to fuck it better after?”

His chest moved with a shallow breath, sharp and controlled, voice holding a hint of bite. “Pierce it.”

The third needle went in harder—the muscle more dense, tense—and he moaned. Just a little. Low and choked. Not dramatic. But genuine. It slipped out of him like it wasn’t meant to. Just a flash of pain, edged in something that sounds dangerously close to pleasure.

Your grin is instant. “Oh?” you tease, breath warm and fanning over his tongue as you screw on the last ball. “You like pain now?”

He doesn’t answer.

His hand fists into your hair, palm wide and hot against your nape, and drags your mouth to his without a sound. No warning. No question. His lips crash into yours like he’s been starving for it for hours.

You struggle to slip out of your gloves—rubber sticking to your skin, catching on your thumbs in the haste—and kiss him back with everything in you, sterile tray forgotten, needles and pain and aftercare all abandoned because fuck.

Your fingers slide up into his hair, tugging, and the kiss turns molten fast—sloppy, wet, needy. You can taste the faint metallic tang of blood, metal clinking faintly as your piercings clash, his hot breath puffing over your upper lip as he hisses with the fresh sting.

It's not long before you’re grinding again, no longer teasing—just needy, quick friction, his palms kneading at your ass, guiding the motion of your hips against him like he's sculpting it, perfecting it.

You’re soaked through. You feel it, damp heat clinging between your legs, begging for attention, the way it smears over the rough front of his pants with every motion. Jack keeps you moving—pressing you down, up, down again—grinding you into the shape of his need like he’s etching it into memory.

When he drags one of his tongues along your neck, you shudder. The muscle is slick and warm, still throbbing from the needle, and the ball drags slow and shaky over your skin, leaving a trail of spit and heat that makes your knees tighten around his hips. He doesn’t moan. Doesn’t groan. But his hands grip tighter when he tastes the sweat there, claws flexing like he’s anchoring himself.

“F-fuck,” you breathe, voice already wrecked.

He hums against you, lips open and plush on your throat. Then he’s moving—lifting your shirt, not ripping it, not frantic, but hurried. Hands steady, movements smooth but impatient.

“You’re smell like you're fucking soaked,” he mutters, voice low and frayed at the edges, slightly slurred around the new weight in his mouth. “Are you a sadist now? Getting wet while you pierce me?"

You grin. “Can you blame me? Fucking listen to yourself, baby."

Jack growls—quiet, breathy, like a broken exhale—and suddenly he’s pushing you back. His thumbs hook into your shirt and he bunches it under your arms, then it goes flying somewhere behind you. He gets your bra up fast, one hand groping your tit while his mouth descends—tongues and lips and that raw, new pressure from the piercings all swirling around your nipple until you arch and moan right into the crown of his head.

It’s so wet. Lapping, licking, sucking—each new flick from his tongues leaving trails that cool too slow, making your skin burn. He sucks a little harder—sharp teeth grazing the sensitive bud just once—and when your breath stutters and hips buck, he grins against your chest, all teeth and silent heat.

He moves down, lips dragging over your sternum and down your stomach, tongues flicking in tandem, tasting every inch of skin like it matters.

And as you lift your hips off the bed like instinct, to help him get to the main course faster, he licks a slow stripe over the crotch of your leggings. Straight through the soaked fabric where it sticks to your pussy.

You jerk in surprise. “Oh my—fuck—”

“You taste desperate,” he says simply, monotone as ever—like his aching cock isn't sandwitched between his stomach and the mattress, hips rocking where the friction's mounting—and presses his face in again. The heat of him radiates through you like a furnace. His tongues spread as they lap, tasting slick through cotton, brows twitching with a low grunt when the piercings catch into the seam, sending a flash of sting through the muscle. He doesn't seem bothered, though.

“You’re such a fucking pervert,” you whisper, but you’re laughing, breath hitching as he noses into the curve of your pussy again. "You're gonna get an infection."

"Should've given a shit when you were riding me five minutes ago."

You can almost hear the eye roll in his voice as he yanks the waistband down to your knees with firm finality, claws scraping the outside of your thighs, and he exhales right over your cunt—drenched, flushed, throbbing in the open air.

His mouth drops to it like he’s starved.

You gasp the second his tongues make contact—not just from the heat of him, or the obscene way he moans into you like he needs it, but because fuck, those fresh piercings burn as they drag over your folds.

The metal’s cold at first—sharp pinches of chill against slick heat—but then it’s just sting. You twitch when the bead of the bar in his middle tongue bumps against your clit, just a little too firm, and you flinch—more from shock than pain.

“Jack—fuck,” you breathe, hips jolting.

He huffs against your cunt, an actual scoff that vibrates through you—like it’s fucking offensive to him that he doesn’t have total control over the movement. Like his own pain is an inconvenience he’s choosing to ignore out of spite.

He's always so precise. So devastating.

But now he’s raw and a little unsteady, dragging the ball of a barbell over your clit again and missing a bit. Slips too far to the side.

You laugh—a breathy, broken chuckle that barely escapes your lips.

“Ohhh, baby,” you coo, drunk on it, “what’s the matter? Not used to the new hardware?”

His hand slams up across your chest—hot and firm and absolutely done with you—and presses down on your throat. Holding you down, fingers splayed under your jaw in a firm warning.

Then, he spits right on your pussy. A fat, wet glob lands just above your clit and trails down—hot and slick and disrespectful. And he's back on you with a vengeance.

He doesn’t slow this time. Doesn’t hesitate. Just dives in, two tongues pushing inside you with a wet squelch that punches the air from your lungs. Middle tongue licks you from slit to clit, flicking in messy, aching little swipes, metal catching on your clit—just barely, but enough to make your vision spark. Cold metal followed by heat and saliva and the scrape of textured flesh, enough to make your toes curl.

“Jack—”

You choke on his name and the hand on your throat tightens enough to make you feel your pulse against it. The other runs hot and wide over your stomach, down your thigh, then presses under your knee and hauls your leg up, opening you with no mercy. He plants your thigh over his shoulder, locking you in place.

His brows twitch with effort, mouth full of cunt and face buried so deep it’s like he’s trying to breathe through your clit. He groans when your walls flutter around his tongues, and the sound makes your thighs shake like it's rattling your soul. Each movement of his mouth is sloppy, uncalibrated—but it doesn’t matter. The heat, the wet, the way he’s fucking you with two tongues and torturing your clit with the third, piercings dragging over every soft spot—you cum without warning.

It hits like a fucking grenade going off in your pelvis. You cry out, fingers locking in his hair as your thighs clamp around his head. Your cunt clenches helplessly, fluttering around his tongues, grinding into his mouth and nose with desperate, twitchy movements.

He doesn’t stop. You twitch. Sob. Whimper, and he just holds your legs up and your throat down and slurps through it, drinking it in like it’s holy.

He groans as he pulls back once your voice finally breaks on his name and your nails scrabble at his shoulders, licking his lips like he’s trying to soothe the sting—but you can still see the way his jaw tightens. Still feel the heat of it on your thighs.

“Fucking—” he mutters, voice hoarse, gruff, still wet with you. “Hurts like a bitch.”

You huff a laugh, fucked-out and breathless, legs still twitching. “Yeah? You’re the one who kept going.”

He runs a hand through his hair—messy, damp with sweat. His mouth twitches, not a smile, but something halfway between annoyed and pained. “If I get sepsis, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You’re gonna die with your face buried in pussy?” You grin, still panting. “What a way to go.”

He doesn’t even respond. Just unzips his pants and grips his cock at the base once it's free, hard and flushed, and gives you a flat look.

“Come suck this dick.”

Your whole body reacts—knees already folding under you as you crawl between his legs. The mattress creaks beneath you both, the air still thick with sex and heat and that sharp tang of metal and alcohol. Your tongue flashes over your lips as you settle on your stomach between his thighs, elbows propped and ready.

You curl your fingers around the base of his cock, thick and heavy in your palm, and lean in.

Spit hits his tip before your mouth does. You drool for it, tongue flat and spreading slick along the vein on the underside, swirling just under the crown like you’re kissing it. Then you flatten your tongue and drag your piercing right over the slit, collecting pre-cum and humming at the taste.

“You’re fucking leaking,” you murmur, voice all sugar and spit. “Like you liked eating pussy with those things.”

He grunts. “Didn’t say I didn’t.”

You hum and open your mouth wide, taking him in deep—wet, hot, sloppy from the start. You don’t bother being pretty about it. You drool around him, eyes fluttering as spit pools at the corners of your lips and drips down to his balls.

Your free hand cups them, slick with your own spit, and you pull them into your mouth too—rolling your tongue around one, then the other, moaning high and sweet like they’re candy. His hand sinks into your hair, gentle only for a moment.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rough and low.

You pull back with a wet pop, smear your tongue up his shaft, then flick it hard against the head again. The metal of your piercing taps his tip just right and he groans low in his chest, hips flexing up to chase your mouth.

“You like that?” you breathe, licking slow and wide over him. “Feels good with the piercing, huh?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, deep and strained, “like getting head from a fucking rattlesnake.”

You laugh against his cock, and he growls again—like it’s offensive that you’re laughing while you’ve got his dick in your mouth.

He leans over you and slaps your ass once. Loud. Sharp.

“Lift it.”

You blink up at him, smile tugging your lips. “You can’t even see it.”

He shrugs.

"I can imagine it.”

Still—you do it. You arch your back a little, tilt your hips so your ass is up and your legs are spread, letting him imagine the mess between them. Because he knows exactly what it looks like when you’re like this. Helpless. Hungry.

He fists a hand in your hair and guides you back down, slow.

“Open up,” he rasps. “Show me that filthy mouth.”

Your lips are already swollen, chin soaked, hair a mess as you glance up at him with that smug little glint—but you obey. You always obey when he talks like that.

You roll your tongue out slowly, lewd and lazy, the ball of your piercing glinting with spit, strings stretching from your teeth down to your chin. Drool leaking, soaking the sheets under your tits. You're grinning—humoring him, teasing, even though he can’t see the sight you’re giving him.

Doesn’t matter.

Jack feels it. The heat of your breath, the hunger in the way you whine a little under your breath just from holding still, waiting for him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rough and low, “just like that. My pretty cockdrunk slut."

He slaps his cock down on your tongue, thick and hot, over and over. Drags the tip over the metal to feel the obscene slide of it, lips parted and bitten, and shoves himself into your mouth.

“Open,” he snaps, voice low and taut with restraint that’s already slipping.

You choke instantly—your mouth crammed full, his cock hitting your throat before you’re even ready, but he doesn’t stop. He fists both hands in your hair and uses you, fucking your mouth like it’s just a hole to bury himself in.

You can barely breathe. Sucking in what little air you can through your nose between each harsh thrust of his hips. His hips drive forward again and again, slapping against your face, your nose mashed into the now damp, trimmed thatch of hair at the base. You gag, spit gurgling in your throat, leaking out your nose and dripping onto your chest—but you stay there. Because you fucking love it.

Love the burn of the stretch, love the animal growls you suck out of him, love the way his usually emotionless face contorts in pleasure for you—so deep it looks like agony.

He knows you love it.

His grip gets tighter, claws scraping scalp.

“Take it,” he snarls, voice cracking. “Take it like you fucking mean it, sweetmeat, c'mon—"

You feel the twitch first.

You gurgle a moan around him, useless tears stinging your eyes as you look up at him through your lashes, throat tightening in response, and that's what gets him.

He thrusts in deep, deeper, stays there.

Then the burn.

Then the flood—thick, hot, salty. Gushing straight into your throat.

You choke, swallow, slobber running down your chin in fat ropes as he fills you up. A guttural moan tears out of him, something feral and fucked, and his hips shake with the force of it.

He doesn’t pull out until he's sure you're not breathing.

Then he yanks you back by the hair, wet strands clinging to your cheeks, your mouth falling open on instinct to gasp for air, spit and cum trailing out in shiny ropes—and with a gentleness you never expect no matter how many times you see it, his claws rake through your hair to push it back without as much as grazing your skin.

The following weeks? Hell.

Jack didn’t get a tongue infection. He got three. His entire mouth was a battlefield. No amount of salt water gargles were saving him from that fate. By the end of the week, he was grunting through swollen tongues, crusted studs, and the kind of fever that made his skin clammy and his will to leave nonexistent.

You made the mistake of laughing the first time he tried to growl at you and it came out all gurgled and wet—he flipped you off so hard you almost choked on your food.

Still, you helped him clean the piercings. Blended his organs into chunky soup he grimaced at every time—somehow more revolted than you.

He healed, of course. Bitched and sulked through the worst of it. Refused to kiss you for a week.

But he didn’t take them out.

[somnambuletta]

tithes of flesh (mdni 🔞)

(implications of consentual non-con, and previous non-con, degradation, power-play, fingering.)

jack does not kill needlessly. that is what you tell yourself, in the quiet spaces between wakefulness and sleep, in the moments where his presence looms beside you, dark and still like something not quite human.

his hands, when they touch you, do not bruise like how they once did. no, not now. now, they map the ridges of your collarbone with a reverence you do not understand. now, they linger at the hollow of your throat, fingers brushing against the sliver of a beat underneath, feeling- not for the purpose of harm, but for certainty.

"you are afraid", jack tells you- his words factual, and almost amused. he tilts his head, faceless, eyeless, yet he still sees you all the same.

you shake your head. "i'm not."

his hands slide lower, pressing at the dip of your waist, tightening just enough to make you draw a breath. not enough to hurt. never enough to hurt. not anymore.

"liar." his voice has become a thing without sharp edges, smooth and indulgent, as if he enjoys peeling the truth from you like skin from a fruit. he likes that you still tremble, that your body still remembers the things that he has done- the ways he has made you beg- once for mercy, and now for something far worse.

"you told me once," he muses, his hands curling around the small of your back, "that you believed in god."

you swallow, and he hums, as if he can hear the answer in the silence that follows.

"i did", you breathe, and it is the first true thing you have said in days.

"and now?"

you do not answer. jack does not need you to.

his head dips, slow, deliberate. his mouth drags over the curve of your shoulder, breath hot against the bare skin, a mockery of something holy.

"it's cruel," he murmurs, "what they do to the lamb, isn't it?" his lips press comfortably against your pulse, the words a stain against your skin that he washes out with a kiss. "to call it blessed, even as they slit its throat."

his words pout into your ears like venom, slipping down the ridges of your spine, curling around something deeper than fear. he is too close, his breath rolling over the damp flesh of your jugular, the heat of him pressed firm against your back, his hands searching with an hedonistic slowness.

but there is no mercy in his touch- only possession, only the weight of his aver settling into the fatty cavities of your bones.

jack exhales, lips painting the shell of your ear. "and yet", he hums, voice slick like oiled leather, "you let me touch you, still."

one of his hands slides downward, slow, deliberate, tracing the curve of your hip. his grip tightens, just enough to remind you of what he is, what he has done, what he could still do, if he wished.

"you don't fight anymore." his tongue flicks over the pulse at your throat, teeth nipping, not quite bothering to break the skin- but clenching enough to feel it later. "you don't cry." his other hand moves, trailing up your ribs, spreading his fingers over his stomach. holding you still. holding you open.

"you just.. take it."

the heat pools low in your belly, shame curling with it like a serpent. because he's right- you don't fight. you haven't in a long time. his hands are carved into your flesh like scripture, his voice tattooed in the recesses of your mind where prayers and gospel no longer reach.

jack chuckles, the sound vibrating against your throat. "does that make you a disciple, then?" his fingers flex, his body shifting against yours, making you feel just how much he enjoys this too.

you try and twist away, but he tuts, tightening his grip.

"no, no- don't run now. not when you were so eager just a moment ago." his hand dips, teasing, tracing, mocking the way your body responds to him despite it all.

your breath hitches. he presses a kiss to the side of your neck again, deceptively soft, almost tender. and then- his lips part, his teeth grazing over the place he's marked again and again.

"sweet little lamb," he murmurs voice dripping with amusement. "so desperate to pretend you're still innocent."

shame burns in your chest, between your thighs- and jack feels it, drinks it down like sacrament.

"poor thing", he purrs, fingers curling into you, drawing a sound from your lips that you do not mean to make. "do you think the lambs understand, before the knife comes down? do you think they know they are being led to slaughter, or do they just stand there, dumb and docile, letting themselves be taken?"

you shudder, gasping as his pace shifts, pleasure curling, building-

"ah-ah", he coos, hand stilling, pulling back just before the crest, leaving you trembling, ruined, aching. "not yet."

your head falls forward, frustration burning hot in your stomach. he presses his lips to your temple, cruel mimicry of affection.

"what's wrong?", he teases. "did you want to be blessed?"

you hate him. you hate him so much, and yet, you arch into his touch anyway. as you had- as you always would since the first day you succumbed, and offered yourself to something other than god.

his fingers return, slow rubs for no reason other than to taunt. your hips jerk towards them, betraying you, offering yourself despite everything.

jack hums, like he expected nothing less.

"i think you have been led astray", he says, mockingly thoughtful. his hand hovers just before you, free palm cupping your jaw, and turning your head towards him. his thumb presses to your lips. "maybe i should make you repent."

your breath is shaky. his nail digs into the crevice you'd bit into your own flesh.

"say it", he commands, voice honey-thick with satisfaction.

you shake your head, refusing- because you know what he wants. you know what he's trying to do.

but jack has made you weak. jack has made you his.

his grip strengthens at your chin, forcing you to still. "say it", he repeats.

you bite your lip, breath shallow.

"say it, little lamb."

your resolve breaks. you close your eyes, heat crawling up your spine, and in the smallest, most humiliated whisper, you give him what he wants.

"..please."

jack moans, lips curving into something dark, triumphant, and unbearably pleased.

"good girl."

[brain--drop]

Creepypasta First Kiss Headcanons (PT 1)

It's been 84 years oml-// Includes: Jeff The Killer | Eyeless Jack | Ben Drowned

Jeff:

Although he'd never admit it, Jeff was beyond nervous for your first kiss as the two of you were lying down on the roof of a shed you'd spend the night at during your journey of getting back to the mansion.

It seemed to be set up perfectly. The chilly air of the night bringing the two of you closer for warmth, the sky clear to view the stars and the full moon. Ambience of crickets and no other distractions.

All it took was for Jeff to glance at you, seeing the moonlight cast lights and shadows to your face, and for you catch him staring that he leans in and plants a short and quick kiss on your lips.

"That...that was stupid. Stupid and gross. Forget it-"

As he sits up to get off the roof and leave, he stops when he feels your hand grab onto his hoodie sleeve. Your mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out as you grow flustered from the moment. Jeff raises an eyebrow and lifts your chin up to look at him, unable to hide a laugh from seeing your face.

"So I wasn't reading the signs wrong. You're just as stupid as me."

He laughs more at your offended reaction, cutting you off mid annoyed ramble as he kisses you again, longer and more sternly. Both of you definitely complain in sync once you get inside the shed to sleep on why you stayed outside kissing in the cold for so long afterwards.

EJ:

Not as romantic as the two of you hoped as it was when Jack was bandaging up your arm, having been slashed during training. Or really just a full on brawl as nearly everyone woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning and choose to vent their frustrations.

Much to Jack's efforts in getting you out of the crossfire of violence, you still ended up getting hurt after getting a cut from Toby's axe swinging. Now, much to your efforts of reassuring him, Jack still had an irritated but worried look on his face judging from his knitted eyebrows.

"I don't like using unnecessary force, but I should've moved you out the way faster. Thank whoever's out there that it wasn't serious but it could've been worse and-"

Next thing he knows, his mouth is being silenced by warmth and he realizes it was your lips against his. When you pull back, the shocked silence between the two of you is enough to fluster you both completely.

More silence follows as he finishes patching you up and you end up leaving the makeshift med bay of the mansion with a quiet thanks.

You spend the rest of the day in fear you took it too far until it was the dead of night when a knock at your door disrupts your thoughts. Opening it, you see Jack make his way inside and cups your face in his hands as he closes the door with his foot.

"Let's try that one more time, my brain is working again."

Ben:

It's as cute and awkward as you can imagine it to be. Ben spends days, weeks even, to work up the courage to make the first move and kiss you. By this point, every creep in the mansion is annoyed at his nervous rants to them as he looks for advice and tells him to get on with it.

It took Jeff to half jokingly tell him "he'd do it if he doesn't" for him to get it together and follow through that night, mood and timing be damned.

Fortunately for his racing heart, you wanted nothing more than to have a simple movie night which involved Chicken Little.

While you were seemingly engrossed in the film, Ben's mind was running a mile a minute as he did every trick in the book. Scooting closer to you, wrapping a blanket around you two, yawning and putting his arm around your shoulder. Even he has to admit it was cringe.

His nerves got the best of him when he was trying to find a decent moment in the movie when it didn't matter if it was watched or not as he turns his head and sees you looking right at him because of his anxious behavior.

"...fuck it, I'm dead anyways."

He wastes no time presses his lips against yours, any tension in your bodies flooding away with the warmth as it becomes more comfortable. That is until you both hear the loud sound from the movie of the pig hitting the vending machine to which you pull away laughing. Grabbing the remote, Ben lowers the volume before leaning in again.

"Eh, we've already seen it. This is better though."

[carn4g3]

hello! do you have any crumbs for eyeless jack x fem!proxy reader that got hurt on a mission? thank u!!

Accident Prone | Eyeless Jack x Fem Proxy Reader

Summary: Getting injured frequently isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, it lets you get closer to one mysterious medic.

TWs: Mentions of violence, injuries & medical equipment (IVs)

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I'm still trying to figure how I want to write Jack dialogue wise (in the Night Shift I tended to make him more reserved in the sort of shy way, but I'm not sure I like that characterization fully) so pls lmk what y'all think :)

General

I tend to follow the idea that Jack was sacrificed by a cult-like group to their demonic deity as a human vessel--leading to his appearance today. His involvement with the group was passive, at first. As a first year med student in a relatively small program, he didn't know many people and found it easy to befriend his surprisingly talkative lab partner. Much of the cult activity probably flew under Jack's radar until a cold, harsh blade was quite literally ripping through him.

That being said, Jack at least managed a bachelor's degree, probably on some sort of pre-med track, before his normal life came to an end. He holds a bit more technical knowledge than the average person, but he's by no means an expert.

Slender hardly sought out Jack for his medical prowess. It's practically a given that a pawn of the creature knows how to stop themself from dying. Proxies in particular are expected to know anything from basic first aid to treating bullet wounds. Admittedly, trying to stop yourself from bleeding out while in the depths of the woods with only the clothes on your back doesn't lead to many sanitary situations. Amongst other things, Jack does wonders in preventing infection, and Slender would be the last to object to that.

As a proxy, you don't get too many opportunities to interact with anyone who isn't also a proxy. The breaks you get between missions are often only a few days long at most, and there's no telling what you'll have to get done during that time as well.

Similarly, Jack doesn't spend much time with others, but that is much more a conscious choice of his. If you're not under his direct care, it's pretty hard to properly pin his schedule or whereabouts. So, there's really only one way to become close to the demon given: get injured.

You had been a proxy for a few years now. Still considered the newest in technical terms, you were far from that initial probationary-training period. Despite that, your almost permanent residency in Jack's infirmary was as strong as ever-- only rivaled by Toby.

An almost sheepish grin had spread over your face as Jack just considered you silently. Like clock-work, you would appear at his door at the beginning of the week with some sort of injury to be patched or checked. This time, you had all but dragged yourself to Jack's cabin, ankle throbbing from inside your hunting boot. "What happened this time?" If you could see his face, you're sure he would be raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Target tried to break my ankle..." You replied. "Really?" He asked, something like worry in his tone. "No," You admitted, "Just fell..." Jack sighed, less than surprised by the reality of your situation, "Alright, come in."

Your first few visits with the demon medic were certainly a bit intimidating. Seeing his inhuman features for the first time was jarring, and it didn't help that Tim would stand disapprovingly at your side. Too focused on disappointing your mentor or Slender itself, you hadn't really thought to talk to Jack more than a brief explanation of your injury.

As your visits became unaccompanied, you took a bit more care in the person treating your frequent injuries. Letting random topics fall from your lips on a whim, it seemed to work-- occasionally eliciting a chuckle or even a brief response. Now, he seemed a bit more talkative during your visits. Checking if he wrapped any bandages too tight or pausing when you hissed in pain, you always saw Jack as quite the skilled medic.

"If it hurts that bad, just go get pain meds from Jack." You huffed in annoyance. No matter how many times you found yourself having to work with Jeff, you managed to be shocked by his sheer skill at being an asshole each and every time. Despite the gauze pad on your cheek, which hardly covered the bruise that spread out underneath it, the other killer had been whining on and on about his own recent injury. You certainly weren't apathetic towards the stab wound that had taken him out for a week, but was it really still that relevant almost a month later? "Go to EJ?" Jeff barked in disbelief, "That dick would just call me a waste of resources." "Not if you were actually in pain, now get back to work." You scoffed at the exaggeration. "Are we talking about the same guy? He acts like we're running on scraps or some shit." He disregarded your words, as was expected. While you were intent to ignore him this time, Jeff clearly had other plans, " No seriously, does he just give you shit whenever you ask for it?" "Well, yeah. "Maybe if you weren't such a bitch he'd do the same for you." You looked at him in confusion. "Watch it," He snapped, "What'd you do to get him do that, suck his dick or--" "If you don't shut the fuck up, I'll give you a real reason to be bitching about pain meds." You threatened, raising your weapon to emphasize it. "Holy shit, no need to get your panties in a twist." Jeff rolled his eyes but quieted down anyway. After a few moments, he piped up once more, "Ask around sometime. You'll see what I mean."

Imagine

Sleep pulled heavy at your eyelids as they begrudgingly drew open. Even in your haze, you realized the room around you was both familiar and unfamiliar all the same; how poetic. You knew Jack's cabin well, at this point. It was pretty bare-- any decorations being whatever the last tenant "left" around. Each room looked essentially the same, and your suspicion was only confirmed when you took note of the nose burning cleaning chemicals in the air.

You weren't left pondering in the silence for very long, though. As soon as you registered your location, the devil himself stepped in. Maneuvering with ease, his boots seemed to strategically miss the parts of the floor that creaked the loudest. He shut the door quietly, one hand on the door handle, and the other holding some sort of item. Your eyes hadn't fully adjusted to the dark enough to discern it.

"You're awake." Jack spoke without you having to say a word.

He'd briefly explained his enhanced senses to you before, something about breathing being especially amplified to his ears, "If I wasn't you would look real stupid right now."

"To who?" He asked, "The dust?"

"Good one." Despite the sarcasm, you appreciated his dry humor.

Moving closer, he practically towered over the short bed frame. From this angle and lighting, you could see how those dark, soulless eyes could strike fear in the average person. Although, you couldn't quite imagine the role of a victim for long given the plate of food grasped in his left and-- as opposed to a scalpel. With his free hand, he swiftly moved to turn on the small table-lamp beside you. The yellow glow was dim compared to a normal light source, but it still stung your unadjusted eyes.

"If you're hungry," He explained as he placed the plate down, "you're fine to eat solids."

"I'd hope so," You muttered, "I don't think I've lost that many teeth."

His outward appearance didn't change, but you could tell he was amused by the comment, "The healthy amount would be zero."

Oh right, you weren't just in here for fun. Shuffling to the other side of the bed, Jack gently inspected the IV solution hanging up just beside you. Seeming satisfied with his gentle prodding, he regarded you once more.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Fine," You shrugged, "You're a miracle worker like always."

Jack scoffed gently, "The medicine is, not me."

You rolled your eyes at his response, but he wasn't keen on letting you get in the final word on that matter, "What happened?"

Hearing the question, you took a pause. Despite the aforementioned pain-meds coursing through your system, you could still feel a dull throb around your calf. It didn't take much for missions to go wrong. Just a split second too long and suddenly you were in the midst of a police chase, K-9 units released along your path like you were some sort of heathen like Jeff.

"Dogs." You answered bitterly.

Averting your gaze to the plate of food beside you, you noted the small wafts of steam still leaving the dish, "Did you just make this?"

"Yes," Jack let you maintain the subject change, "Why?"

"Were you just going to leave it there if I wasn't awake? Seems like a pretty lousy gift" You noted.

"I could tell you were waking up." He attempted to defend himself.

"You can tell through the walls?" You asked skeptically.

"I had to check your vitals." Jack explained once more.

"Why didn't you check the IV then?" A smirk edged its way onto your face as you noticed you had caught him in his lie.

Jack would never admit to that, though, "Eat the food if you want it. I have other things to do."

Stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets, he headed quickly for the door. He never left quicker than when you managed to fluster him, a fact you tended to tease him for whenever the opportunity would arise.

"Sure thing, Jack." You called after him sarcastically.

"Don't let it get to your head," Jack bit back, "Sherlock."

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 03

Eyeless Jack x Female Reader - Mirror/Overstimulation

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Overstimulation, cunnilingus, mirror sex, oral, desperation, pleasing, body positivity, controlled orgasm, embarrassment, body image issues, fluffy smut

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.8k

Jack found it so irritating how you pleaded with him to turn the lights off every time he slept with you.

At first, he thought it was an insult, a secret disgust you had for him that you were too scared to admit. But, that couldn’t be right.

You were kissy and loving all other times, unafraid to express your desire for the demon or hold back from complimenting everything he did. It just didn’t make sense why when he began to make love to you, suddenly all of that confidence and fluffiness washed away. Hiding your face in the pillows, wrapping your arms over your tummy, or even lightly panicking when he cooed you to get on top.

Until he thought about it, really thought about it.

It took time, but he began to catch the way you tugged your leggings a little higher on your stomach or adjusted your shirt so it was baggier in the front. He didn’t miss how you preferred your clothes a little baggier, opting for his instead. You sucked in when he held you, stood up straighter when he talked to you. It took time, but slowly all the pieces were connecting, all of the little tale-tell signs that you so meticulously hid.

To anyone else, it would seem normal. Maybe you just liked bigger clothes, or you just liked to wear his instead.

But Jack knew. And he wasn’t going to let you dig yourself deeper.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Jack stepped behind you, leaning over to peck a kiss atop your head. You smiled up at him, stalling your work at the kitchen counter to hike up onto your tiptoes and kiss his lips. His claws reached around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Hi.”

“I have a surprise for you… See you later tonight…?”

He didn’t miss the little embarrassed excitement that tinted on your cheeks, your small smile nodding to him as you resumed whatever food you were making. The demon left you with another kiss, stepping away with a grin.

You wouldn’t know, but he was setting up your ‘surprise’ in your room. He took the full-length mirror from your closet, hooked it off of the hinges, and placed it on the wall opposite your bed. He made sure it was angled right, sitting on the edge of the bed to ensure you would get a good view.

You needed this more than he did, but that didn’t make him any less excited.

Night eventually fell, the quiet stir of your house looming as you stepped out of the shower down the hall. Jack was already perched at your doorframe, one shoulder hunched on the plaster as you stepped from the steaming bathroom, towel tucked neatly around your frame.

Fresh from the shower, you smelled so delicious. Little fruity savory scents wafted around you as Jack breathed deep, chills running up his back. He couldn’t wait.

He didn’t miss the little flush in your cheeks or the way you smiled sweetly when he reached a hand out, your small one clasping right in his palm. He also didn’t miss how you tugged the towel up a little higher to cover your underarms, glancing down to give yourself a once-over before following him. He was more than tired of your overthinking brain.

You gasped lightly when you stepped into your warm bedroom, candles and tiny tea lights lit up across any surface the demon could place them. You looked around in awe, eyes bright and twinkling from the fire glow, Jack’s claw tugging you further inside. Now you wouldn’t be able to turn the lights off…

“Jack… What is this for…?” You smiled, pushing your wet hair back from your face as Jack closed the door. Glancing to your bed, you noticed the water bottle and tiny assortment of Advil, all things that you typically needed after a night with the demon.

But, you also didn’t miss the mirror from your closet repositioned in front of your bed, glancing at your reflection sourly.

“Why did you move my mirror?”

“Suprise…” Jack cooed, stepping in to press behind you, his claws wrapping around to the front of your stomach. It had always impressed you just how much taller the demon was compared to you, but looking at it now, he seemed huge.

You stood in front of the glass, staring at Jack’s reflection with knitted brows, his lips coming down to kiss behind your ear. You shivered, his breath so warm against your damp skin, leaning back into his touch.

“What do you mean, surprise?”

The demon chuckled, hooking his fingers into the towel and slowly opening it, your eyes flashing down to yourself as you watched nervously.

“Wait…” You groaned.

Your legs instinctively clenched when your bare body showed itself, large claws tugging the towel from your sides and tossing it somewhere unknown. The warm candleglow bounced off your skin, deep oranges and yellows showing every freckle and indent as Jack found his way back to your neck.

You cringed, staring only at Jack’s face pressed close to yours instead of looking at yourself, disgust slowly creeping in and ruining your mood. He felt the way you tensed against him, a deep groan against your neck as he lifted off.

“Can we not with the mirror?” You mumbled, keeping your eyes solely focused on him instead of where he wanted you to look, at your beautiful body. He shook his head, pulling you back until you sat on the edge of your bed, Jack circling to your front. “This is exactly why we need it, I think.”

You’re confused, crossing one leg over the other as Jack kneels himself in front of you, his large frame putting him at eye level with your chest. You immediately edge back, shaking your head slowly.

“I know what this is…”

Jack is wrapping his claws around your ankles before you can get any further, pulling your body to the edge again and making you sit up straight. He didn’t care as you whined your unwillingness for his idea, pushing himself between your knees and pulling your claves to lock onto his sides.

One claw wraps around your jaw, tugging your face down to face him directly as you huff, silently pleading with him. He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a moment to recuperate before he sat back again.

“You, my pet, are the most intoxicatingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I find it insulting you think something I find attractive is ugly.” His words are overlapped with kisses down your neck, his claws resting eagerly on your hips as he pecks downwards, breathing deep into your neck.

Your arousal floods his senses, the silent excitement he can almost taste as he kisses your chest so sweet and hungry. Your breathing catches as he palms your tit, massaging the mound slowly until you’re arching your back into his touch.

“Every time I see you, I can barely hold myself back from kissing every square inch of your skin.” His lips dip lower, kissing between your tits and down to the top of your stomach. A quiet whine slips through when he finally makes it to the softness of your tummy, kissing across your warm skin and nipping gently with his teeth. Oh, how he would love to have just a bite, just a taste of your sweetness underneath.

You were shuddering the lower he got, little wet spots from his lips trailing to the tops of your thighs, your eyes never leaving him for a second.

He loves your pliability when you lean back on your hands, his claws hooking under your knees to push your thighs open further, the sweet scent of your arousal making him lightheaded. Your heavy eyes watched as he nipped the inside of your legs, kissing the soft skin as close as he could get to your pretty cunt before you were gasping.

He leaned back, much to your disappointment, but held your gaze, the deep sockets boring into you. You were nervous, body twitchy and shifting awkwardly to avoid glancing up to the mirror.

Sleeping with the demon was heavenly, his body and words coiling you up just right. But, you could never get over the roadblock that was your appearance.

Jack made it so evidently clear how pretty you were, complimenting you every chance he got and going the extra mile to make you feel special. That didn’t stop you from cringing at the way your stomach rolled when you moved, or how your legs took up so much space when you sat down. There was no telling how a man so lean and strong found someone like you so addicting.

He was about to show you, though.

“I want you to look at yourself.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at him, but the look on his face was serious.

Huffing, you looked up into the mirror across from you, the warm-toned room lighting your reflection and showing you leaned back on the edge of the bed and Jack’s large frame kneeled neatly between your spread legs.

Quickly, you glanced back down, Jack’s face still one of seriousness at the gentle scowl you held.

He leaned in slowly, pushing his face back between the plushness of your thighs and pushing your knees further apart. You let your lips part, upper body leaning back further in preparation for him.

Until he stopped. Just mere inches from your whiny cunt, his hot breath making your body run with chills. You waited, body heavy and eager, but slowly tensing with confusion when he didn’t press any further than that.

“Uh, Jack?”

He tilted his head up, eyelids low on his empty sockets as he peered into yours.

“I said I want you to look at yourself. Look away, and I’ll stop.” He grinned coyly, jagged teeth gleaming in the candlelight as he leaned in again, this time kissing against the lips of your expectant cunt.

Your jaw still hung loose as you nervously sat up a little more, eyes tense to glance up at yourself as you felt a thick, warm tongue glide smoothly between the wetness of your folds. Your eyes finally met your reflection, giving one quick glance down to see that Jack was peering up at your face, watching carefully.

You huffed, staring back at yourself and gasping as your cheeks grew a darker shade of pink, freckles and dimples bright on your face. You could barely hold yourself from watching his back muscles flex and contort as he holds your legs, a quiet grumble making you refocus.

“Hnn…” Jack let his lips pucker against your puffy folds, tongue gliding through the slickness and rounding at your clit. The long muscle lapped at the taste of your cunt, pulling deep groans and whines from the both of you.

Even though working you, Jack watched on, carefully holding your gaze to make sure you never looked away from your beautiful face. You were jittery, muscles tensing and legs nearly shaking as you tried so hard to obey him. It all just became a little too much when he finally pushed the thickness of his tongue past your entrance.

“Oh, hah- Fuck-” Your eyes flickered back and forth, trying so hard to hold your own gaze but getting caught in the view of his tongue slowly pushing into you. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, fingers grabbing the sheets a little tighter as Jack huffed.

You were ready for that sweet feeling of fullness, of his long tongue craning inside and rubbing all the right places. But, when he slowly began to retract the muscle, pulling his head back from the center of your legs, you nearly cried.

“Jack, please-” He just watched on, staring at you with disinterest.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror.”

You took the hint, forcing your glance back to your flushed face, heavy eyes and droplets of water from your shower gleaming in the candlelight. Jack resumed, pushing his face back quickly and letting his tongue slick back into your excited entrance again.

But, when you felt another tongue slip from his lips, you gasped, shoulders tensing as you willed yourself not to look down.

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Jack could reach. You hissed, back arching into the feeling as your hands fisted the sheets.

It was so embarrassing to see your face involuntarily strain and tense at every heavenly feeling, your eyes flutter or lips part with the loud noises of Jack lapping away at your pussy. And you couldn’t even watch him do it.

Your body was wrecked with pleasure, Jack using all of his devices to pull desperate moans and cries from your lips as he pushed his tongue deeper, the other flicking against your whiny clit.

“Look how good you look falling apart, little thing…” He grumbles against your wetness, muscle curling and soaking up all of your arousal. Your hips angle, trying so desperately to ride on his hungry tongue.

Your face is wrecked, body alike as you let your hands leave the bedsheets and curl around his head, fisting your fingers into his hair. The demon growls, letting his third tongue push through his lips and rummage against you, poking and pushing to try and fit inside your entrance.

“Jack- Jack- Ahn- Yea-” You pull against his hair, making sure you keep your eyes solely on your reflection, the gradual build of your orgasm tingling in your gut. Jack can taste it, can smell it as he finally gets a second tongue past that tight ring of muscle.

You cry out, eyes shutting only for a second, but quickly flicking back open. You would rather die than let Jack see you weren’t looking at yourself, wanting nothing more than to keep his tongues at the pace they were at. You’d look at yourself the rest of your life if it meant you felt like this.

“P-please ah- oh-” You squirm.

The demon is practically fucking you open with the warm muscles, the stretch and push against your walls so delicious and overwhelming, but all you can do is claw for more.

“Tell me how… hah- How beautiful you are…” He slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later, but you comply. You’re embarrassed, desperate, and desire clinging to your every word.

“I’m… I’m beautiful…hnn-”

“Pretty…”

“I’m pretty-”

“Perfect…”

“Fuck… I- ah- I’m perfect…”

Your face is flushed with desperation, watching your every muscle contort until you finally feel like you can look at yourself without cringing, mind too busy trying to push your orgasm out.

Finally satisfied, Jack lets go of your thighs, the limbs instantly clinging around the side of his head and squeezing. He groans, pushing your body back flat against your bed and completely ravaging your cunt.

You finally get the chance to look down, his own face flushed and disheveled as his tongues curl and tug your orgasm through, body convulsing and writhing under him.

“Jack-!” You’re cumming, hard, eyes rolling back into your eyelids as you grip his hair tight, the sweet relief of waves of pleasure gripping your every movement. Your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. He doesn’t let up though, drinking up all your cunt spills on his tongues, deep groans and heaves of breath flooding your senses.

When you finally begin to hiss, sensitivity gripping, he tugs his tongues out, letting your body relax.

His mouth is soaked, a claw coming to wipe away the saliva and arousal from his chin as he pulls you up. Kisses are quickly littered across your skin, hands massaging deeply across your lower back.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” He whispers, pushing up to kiss across your face, your flushed skin hot under his lips. You’re still embarrassed, still reluctant to look up at yourself in the mirror, but you do it anyway.

Your body is disheveled, cunt still flashing with arousal, but the view in the mirror is a lot more tolerable, a lot more pretty than you remember it being.

Jack smiles as you watch yourself, tugging you back closer as he retakes his position, pushing your legs open.

It doesn’t take him coaxing for you to look at yourself when his tongues slide between your dripping cunt again, a wilted moan as he pushes back in again.

If he could love you and your body so much, maybe you could learn to, too.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!