#EJ is a proxy

[inktoony]

I havent actually written in ages and havent watched emh in ages either so sorry if Habit is out of character. Everything is within my own AU.

Fresh Air

This is NOT shipping in any way.

Characters: Habit, Eyeless Jack

-▪︎-▪︎-

It was always nice to get some fresh air. Most of the time anyways.

The bunker wasn't bad, since it was only Jack, Tim, Brian, and now Toby. Though, Jack had his own reservations about Slender making a literal kid a proxy. Regardless, at least he doesn't need to teach the kid everything. Tim is doing that just fine.

Cooped up in a tree, his long legs tangled from a particularly thick branch, Jack could only hear the silence noises of the night.

After maybe 20 minutes, there was a rustle nearby, and then another. A soft scampering up the tree he's in.

Likely a squirrel, though it's rare that wild animals approached him. Always had a weird vibe about him, which sucked since he would want a pet one day.

A soft click left his tongue, and the world seems anew. Everything around him, patches within silhouettes, variations of red, green and blue.

He turned his head, and with another click, was met with a deep red near his face. He almost fell off the damn branch, utterly startled.

Whatever it was, its ears pinned back and it backed away. But it always pointed at him, no matter what.

He knew what it was.

“Hey!”

And that's what you hate to hear.

“Habit.” Jack answered.

“Sure am! Come on down, buddy, I ain't rescuing you from there.” Habit was clearly elated to see the guy.

Jack couldn't be further from that. And didn't move.

“Get down.” Habit repeated, on the verge of yelling if he had to repeat himself again. Jack listened immediately.

“Good” and the ‘friend’ voice returned.

Habit was eager to invade Jack's space, though the host Habit was using barely reached his shoulder. 

“This is proxy territory.” Jack knew better not to be outwardly hostile, but he wasn't going to be nice either.

“What, you think I don't know that? I don't give a shit about the lanky freak” Habit paused, and a grin appeared on his face. “Well, I care about this lanky freak.” He gave Jack a light shove, meaning to be playful but it just gave the taller guy a spike in heartbeat. “The wind might blow you away if you aren't careful!”

“What do you,, want?” Jack asked simply, not reacting to his joke. Habit took offense, but he got the picture.

“You know what I want.”

“The answer is still no.”

Habit frowned, his tone turning sour. “And you're not gonna be useful to him forever. That demon schtick has the downside of eating human meat” 

Habit circled him, like a predator. With a hand on Jack's shoulder, one he definitely had to reach his arm for, he sighed. “I'm not going to do that, buddy. I could probably reverse that little curse or something of yours! Don't you want that?”

 He gave him a little shake. “You be my little guy, I sometimes take over your body to ruin all relationships, as if you have any to begin with, have a few human right violations, and you get to live a normal life! Even if I cant take away the cannibalism thing, I can at least eat for you. I've done it before, I don't mind doing it for a while just to get a proper guy on my side”

“No” Jack said without hesitation.

After all that talk, Habit was just left with another rejection. He huffed, shoving Jack forward and his heat signature walking off, the dog-rabbit thing following behind. 

Once they both left, Jack felt a relief to hear a familiar static once again.

His heart was racing, and he needed to clench at his own hoodie to ground himself. He slowly turned, being met with a silhouette of static before he even clicked his tongue, taller than himself.

It offered a hand, and he took it. 

That was enough fresh air for the night.

[sugrobbox]

Some sketches

[thediaryofaurora]

ticci toby nsfw headcanons 😭🤲 can’t express how much i love your hc’s bro its so good 🥹💗 pls keep cooking

☆Ticci Toby Relationship HCs☆

CW: NSFW, f!reader

THANK YOU SO MUCH! This ask single-handedly brought me out of my writing slump. I went ahead and added SFW dating HCs as well, a little bonus 🙌 Also I’m in a leg brace from soccer so I’m stuck in bed.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

★SFW★

- This guy has got a LOT on his mental plate, be prepared for that.

- He is 100% a friends to lovers type of guy. He’s not easily trusting, so that relationship really has to be built up.

- When he does have a crush on someone he beats himself up about it because he feels so stupid for thinking you’d ever like him back.

- Moving onto actually dating him, he is so so so insecure. Lots of reassurance is needed, but if you’re able to get through to him he eventually realizes you actually like him.

- Crazy touch starved. In the first few months of dating he’s super unsure of if he can kiss you or even put his arm around you, he’s HORRIFIED of crossing any boundaries and you leaving. You’ll probably have to make the first move.

- He most likely won’t be the one to ask you out. If you’ve known eachother for a while and he’s feeling a little confident there’s a possibility, but in his mind he’d rather stay friends and get to see you rather than get rejected and you not talk to him anymore.

- LOVES going on dates with you, but he’s a ball of anxiety. It should be easy to cool him down and let him know you’re enjoying it, he’s just so worried about if you’re happy or not.

- Usually thinks going on walks or sitting on a curb together is like the perfect date, ESPECIALLY in the fall. He keeps an old camera on him that he got from Brian so he can make little home videos and capture the moments you spend together.

- Picks up cool leaves, glass shards, or other things left in the forest and makes sure to show you.

- He’s actually not an awful cook. He’s a fast learner in pretty much every aspect and he already knows the basics. His mom taught him when he was young how to make some baseline German dishes, and this man can WHIP that shit up.

- Once you two are to the point in your relationship where you can cuddle, he is ALL OVER YOU. Especially when it’s raining/ thundering out and you two can lay in bed together. Since he overheats easily due to his CIPA, in the colder seasons you’ll have to leave the window open so he can stay cool.

- After seeing how his dad treated his mom, he has a pretty good grasp on how to treat a partner. At times he can fly off the handle, especially with his bipolar disorder, but afterwards he breaks down and apologizes. If at any point you even SEEM like you don’t like him anymore he gets defensive, it makes him very standoffish or snappy.

- Won’t shut up about you after you start dating. Not in a rambling way, but he finds a way to bring you up in every conversation. He doesn’t meant to, but how could he go without telling someone you’d like the flower he just walked by?

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

✩NSFW✩

- VIRRRRGINNNNNNNN.

- I mean VIRGIN virgin, like this guy has had NO activity. No first kiss either. All the knowledge he has is from porn, so he’s completely clueless. If you’re both inexperienced you’ll just have to persevere.

- He’s the kind of person to get turned on looking at a picture of you fully clothed, he’s just so in love with you.

- Before you two start dating he’s 100% taking candid pictures of you or finding your instagram posts and jacking off to them.

- Massive bottom. He puts out a front for a WHILE before you’ll be able to realize he’s not a top, he doesn’t want to look like a sissy. If you suggest being on top he’s BLOWN AWAY. Acts like he’s just doing whatever you want, but afterwards you definitely realize he’s been waiting for it.

- Sensitive as hell. He’s a loud one, but again he doesn’t want to look weak or not masculine enough. He tries to hold his moans and whimpers back and grunt instead, but if you do it just right he’s a whimpering, whining, PANTING, mess. Kiss his neck? He’s rock hard. Even if you’re just giving him a hickey he’s whimpering and bucking his hips into you.

- Tits man 100%. Doesn’t matter what size, the fact that they’re there is enough. When you’re on top of him he prefers for you to face him so he can watch them bounce. When he’s on top he’s usually in missionary so he can still see them.

- Hair pulling kink, specifically his. He can’t feel the pain, but the yank drives him CRAZY.

- Big on oral. Giving or receiving, he doesn’t care. If he’s giving he prefers for you to sit on his face, but he’d never admit that.

- His favorite place to do it is tight spaces. Closets, cars, narrow alleyways. Especially if it adds to the thrill of getting caught.

- STAMINA. He cums crazy fast, but he’s definitely able to make up for it with how many rounds he can go. Even if he came a few minutes ago, it’s already up and ready to go again.

- Likes to have music playing in the back while you do it. He probably already made a playlist the second you started dating, but if you ever want to choose the music he doesn’t mind.

- At first he’s self conscious about his abilities, but after some time and seeing how good you feel he’s a cocky motherfucker. Slyly grinning and looking at you all worn out after a few rounds boosts his ego to the moon.

- Dim lighting all the way. He wants to be able to see you, but he feels too exposed when it’s too bright.

- Not completely opposed to a threesome, it depends on who it is. He’s more protective than possessive, so if he trusts the person enough he’d be okay with it. If it had to be anyone in the mansion it would probably be Cody or Liu, but he’d make sure you’re okay with it.

- Rabid horny teenager.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

[horny-marbles]

I read your Toby fic and ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT! So I humbly ask if you could feed my deranged monster loving brain with some Eyeless jack filth.

I trust your amazing brain to think of something. But if I could request something... maybe it involves tongue and teeth :3

omg thank u anon 🫶🏻🫶🏻 i freaked when i saw this bc i was already halfway into writing this already, i call that divine timing :p i hope u likey <3

Peace Offering (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)

CW: biting, blood play, size diff, oral (f receiving), breeding, a bit of spit, a bit of choking, overall monster fuckery

word count 4.5k

you're a cannibal too!! no graphic descriptions of cannibalism in this one but just a heads-up lol. also, mating szn!!

The hall outside Jack's door smells like antiseptic and viscera. Different from the stench of death and rotting wood permeating the rest of the mansion. You’ve been standing in front of the door for a full minute, fist raised, frozen in decision paralysis.

You don’t even know Jack. Not once spoke to him, or even held eye contact. But you supposed that was the default.

You just knew that he’s tall. That he doesn’t speak. That he moves like smoke and shadow and his claws gleam like scalpels in dim light. You’ve passed him a few times in the mansion—once in the kitchen, where you stood still as a statue holding a raw pancreas while he silently poured black coffee. Once in the hall, where his shoulder nearly brushed yours and you were sure you were going to die—and then he just kept walking.

You’ve only been here a week. The others mostly leave you alone, but you can feel the eyes. You smell like flesh and dirt and bad decisions. They know what you are. You’re a cannibal, same as Jack. But Jack’s been here longer. He’s not just another creep—he’s the fucking cannibal. And you’re afraid he’s gonna see you as competition.

Or worse, an intruder.

You’re not here to offer a sacrifice for his mercy. You’re here to be normal. To knock on the door like a grown-ass human being and say, “Hey, just wanted to introduce myself, I’m new, I eat people too but I’m not gonna step on your turf, all good?”

Y’know. Professional courtesy.

You don’t even know if he cares, but it's been gnawing at you all week. He hasn’t looked twice at you, hasn’t said a single word—but that just makes it worse. You can’t tell if he’s ignoring you, tolerating you, or planning to dissect you in your sleep. So you’re gonna clear the air.

You take a deep breath, straighten your spine, and knock.

You expect silence.

You expect slow, heavy footsteps.

You expect him to open the door with that same blank stillness that makes your stomach twist—stoic, unreadable, the kind of presence that makes you feel like prey even when you’re not. You hope you're not, at least.

You do not expect it to swing open less than a second later like he was already there.

And you definitely don’t expect what’s behind it.

Jack stands in the doorway, bare-chested and heaving. His presence hits you like a freight train—six foot seven of solid, silent terror. Black, scarred, empty sockets that somehow still manage to pin you in place. His skin has a weird, almost too-warm flush to it—gray tinged with red, like stone under heat. There’s a light sheen of sweat across his collarbones. His hair is damp. His claws twitch, flexing in and out of fists at his sides. And worst of all—he stinks.

Not like gore. Not like antiseptic. Not like you. Not bad, but strong.

He smells like sex, like pure pheromones. Like heat and musk and ozone and blood and salt, like ancient stone cracking under pressure, like the kind of sex that leaves bite marks and bruises in the shape of hands.

“...Hi,” you say, weakly.

His head tilts. His nostrils flare.

“New proxy,” he says. Voice like gravel, deeper than you imagined. Rough.

“Y-Yeah. I—I just came to say, like, I’m not here to… step on your toes or anything? I know we’re both, uh. Y’know.” You gesture vaguely, too nervous to say the word cannibal for some reason. “I don’t want beef. Pun not intended.” You're rambling. God, shut up.

Jack exhales through his nose. It almost sounds like a laugh. Almost.

“I know.”

His voice is slow. Controlled. Too controlled. Like every word has to push through clenched teeth.

You shift in place. “You, uh… okay, man?”

He closes his eyes—what’s left of them, anyway. His claws clench into his fists, then relax.

“No.”

Oh.

You blink. “...Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

Your brain makes a soft popping noise.

You try to take a step back anyway, but one of his claws lifts, just slightly—not threatening, more like a halt gesture.

“It’s mating season.”

You freeze.

“I—what the fuck.”

Jack doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t leer. Doesn’t do anything—he just stands there, flushed and feverish and breathing like he ran a marathon. But the air around him feels hot, electric, heavy. You feel it in your stomach, in your teeth.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he says, jaw tight. “I have control.”

You believe him. That’s somehow worse.

Your voice comes out hoarse. “I didn’t know. I—fuck. I wouldn’t have come here if I knew.”

“I know.” Another breath. “You couldn’t have known.”

He leans a shoulder against the doorframe like his legs are tired—his body vibrating with the effort of staying still.

“I can smell you,” he murmurs. “You’re afraid.”

“Yeah. A little.”

“I’m not a threat.”

You almost laugh. “You sure look like one.”

That earns a sound from him—low and dry, almost a chuckle. Barely. Not really. “I won’t hurt you. But if you’re going to stand there, I need you to say what you came to say.”

Right. Words. You had a plan.

“I’m not competition,” you blurt. “I’m not here to challenge you, I don’t even want the woods, I’m barely domesticated enough to live in a house, and I’m scared shitless of you, so please don’t eat me.”

Silence.

Then, deadpan: “You’re not very threatening.”

You look up sharply. He’s watching you, what’s left of his expression unreadable—but his mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. Still tense. Still fevered.

Like a beast in a cage, pacing internally, chained by sheer willpower and nothing else.

You manage a laugh. Weak. Awkward. “Right. Okay. I’ll just—go.”

His fingers twitch. You take a step back.

And then, his voice—low, raw, almost slurred with restraint:

“If you don't have a peace offering, you could always offer yourself.”

It hits you like a bullet.

You freeze. Blink. Your brain throws up the blue screen of death.

Your eyes snap to his. Not that there’s much to see—but something moves in his face, a flicker of realization. Like his mouth acted before his brain.

Jack’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the air feels razor sharp.

Then:

“...That was a joke.”

Bullshit.

You don’t say anything. Can’t. You just stare, pulse hammering, skin prickling. He’s not smiling. He’s not leering. But something about the way he said it—low, even, matter-of-fact—is so much worse. Like it wasn’t a threat. Like it wasn’t even fantasy. Just a passing suggestion. A biological truth.

Your breath catches. You definitely didn’t mean to look at him the way you did—like you’re not just scared, but curious. Like some lizard part of your brain is weighing it—like it wants to know what kind of creature could say something that filthy with a face so blank.

And he smells it.

Your arousal isn't loud. It's not dramatic. But it’s there. A flash of curiosity through the panic, an ugly little throb in the base of your spine, something your body registered before your brain could veto it.

His body goes still.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

But his chest rises, slow and deep, as he inhales—and you see it hit him like a goddamn punch. His throat bobs. His claws twitch. His stance shifts just barely forward, toward you.

“…Fuck,” he mutters.

Your heart seizes.

“Okay, what the fuck was that—”

“I told you,” he says—voice low, rough, tight. “It’s mating season.”

“That didn’t sound like a seasonal allergy just now, man, you sounded like you were about to—”

“I wasn’t.”

“You aren’t now?”

“I’m not going to touch you.”

He says it like a promise. Not to you—to himself.

You swallow thickly.

Jack’s chest is still heaving, slow and deliberate, like he’s meditating through it. You don’t miss the flex of his fingers. The faint tremble in his shoulders. And worst of all, the fact that he’s still staring, like you’re a threat, or prey, or a goddamn solution.

“…Didn’t mean to say that,” he mutters.

“You did,” you say quietly.

“Didn’t mean for you to hear it.”

You should leave.

You know that. Every cell in your body is screaming it—but your feet don’t move. You don’t want to die or find out what happens if you don't die. But your mind is tangled, twisted, caught somewhere between fear and intrigue.

“...You’re still standing there,” he says.

You nod. “So are you.”

Silence, another breath.

“You should leave.”

You nod again. “I know.”

Neither of you moves.

And in that moment, everything is suspended—your pulse, the air, time itself. Jack stares at you like he’s memorizing you. Every molecule of scent, every twitch of your breath. Like he’s holding himself together cell by cell.

“You’re not a threat,” he says finally. Quietly. “But you are dangerous.”

“To you?”

His mouth twitches. That almost-smile again.

“To me,” he echoes, “and to yourself.”

You swallow. “...You’d still fuck me, though.”

That catches him.

Something flickers under his skin, his jaw flexing tight as he stares at you like he didn’t just imagine it—but heard it, loud and clear, from the source. He doesn’t answer right away.

But when he does, it’s barely a whisper.

“...If you asked.”

You almost shudder.

The weight of those three words drops into your spine like a stone. Not if he wanted to. Not if he could. If you asked.

You don’t know how the words come out of your mouth. You don’t even feel your lips move. It’s like something else in you—deeper, hungrier—took the wheel and said,

“I’d ask.”

His breath stops.

The silence that follows is indecent. Your ears ring with it. You watch Jack go still, not like a man—like a beast feeling the air shift before a quake. His head tilts the slightest bit down, his nostrils flare again, and his lips part like he’s tasting your fucking soul in the air.

Then, slowly, like he's afraid to break the spell, he steps aside.

You cross the threshold.

And you're immediately hit with a wall of scent so thick and delicious it curls into your lungs and lingers like smoke. Blood, coppery and sharp, but not stale—fresh enough to hum beneath your skin. A faint iron tang, the subtle, meaty funk of consumed organs. And underneath all of it, him—that deep, heavy, impossibly male scent that makes your legs tremble and your mouth go dry.

The door closes behind you with a click.

Jack doesn’t move right away.

He just looks at you. The tension in his body is so sharp it practically hums, his shoulders rigid, hands flexed and trembling at his sides, claws curling like he’s trying to crush the air. His chest rises in slow, shallow gulps, like every breath is work.

Then he speaks. Voice low. Graveled. Careful.

“One last warning.”

You don’t answer. Not out loud. Your gaze stays locked on him. He watches your throat move as you swallow.

“You don’t know what this is,” he says, and for the first time, it’s not calm. It’s strained. “This isn’t like fucking some guy in the mansion. I'm not human. It hurts. It's violent. I’ll lose control for hours. It’ll leave marks. You’ll feel it for days. Maybe longer.”

He’s not boasting. Not posturing. There’s no lust-drunk swagger here, no smirk, no game. Just raw, desperate honesty, dragging out of him like it physically hurts to say it. And despite every survival instinct shrieking in your bones, you stay.

You nod. “I know,” you whisper.

“You don’t.”

“I don’t care.”

You mean it. You don't know why, but you mean it. Even if your hands are shaking. Even if you feel like you might pass out from sheer adrenaline. You don't know if it’s insanity or instinct or just some deep, terrifying desire—but something in you wants this. Wants him. Like an offering to a god that never learned how to be merciful.

Jack takes one step toward you.

Then another.

You don’t flinch.

His fingers reach out—hesitate—then curl just barely beneath your chin, tilting your face up. His touch is hot, impossibly warm for someone who looks like a walking corpse, and his claws tremble where they rest near your throat. You can tell he’s holding back by the millimeter. That he could rip through your skin without trying.

His voice drops lower, almost broken.

“I won’t take what isn’t offered,” he murmurs. “Say it. Or walk away.”

You stare up at him, skin buzzing, breath shallow.

“…I want you."

Jack’s restraint snaps.

Not in some sudden, ravaging burst—but like a beast unchained. Controlled, deliberate, inevitable.

His lips barely graze yours. Just hovering.

“…Fuck,” he growls.

And he lunges. Not with speed—just momentum. Gravity. A controlled collapse.

His mouth crashes onto yours, and you feel the teeth first—sharp, pointed, dragging—but not biting. Not yet. They graze. They threaten. They tease the edge of pain. And then his tongue follows.

It drags over your lips. Slips past your teeth. You can’t breathe, can’t think, and then he bites—your lower lip, a clean tear—and you gasp into him.

The taste of your own blood floods your mouth, and he moans. Deep, equal parts strained and relieved, like you just fed him.

His hand fists in your hair. The other splays across your lower back, dragging you flush to his chest. You can feel every taut, strained inch of him. Every hard line.

Then his tongue pushes back into your mouth, thick and intrusive, and it carries your blood with it, making you taste it. Your whimper tastes even sweeter in his mouth.

His claws rake lightly up your back—not enough to slice, just enough to make your skin scream. And then one palm cups your ass, the other grips your waist, and he groans like your body just did something to him.

“You taste good,” he pants into your neck. “You smell like—fuck, you don’t even know—”

He licks a stripe up your throat. You feel his tongue flick over a pulse point, but you swear you feel something more there. You don't have time to dwell on it, but your pulse is fluttering now.

His teeth nip your skin. Break it. Blood wells. He laps it up, groaning again—feral.

Hands roam. Bold. Bruising. Claiming. Gripping you like you’re already his. His mouth stays locked on your throat, jaw, shoulder—biting, licking, drinking. And for a moment, he pulls back just to look at you, lips wet with your blood.

“I can't go easy on you,” he repeats, voice barely held together. “I’m not human. I can’t do human.”

You don’t answer. You grab his face and kiss him again, and he breaks. Moaning into your mouth, hands everywhere, blood smeared between you, tongue tangling with yours like he’s trying to devour you from the inside out.

You’re still reeling from the kiss—bloody, deep, consuming—when his mouth moves back to your throat.

This time, the teeth sink deeper.

No more testing, no more gentle nips. He bites, hard enough that your knees almost give. Sharp canines sink into the soft muscle where your shoulder meets your neck, and you yelp—half pain, half fucked-up thrill—and he moans around the wound like it’s the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever tasted.

"That's better," he growls into your skin, lapping at the blood. “That’s what I wanted.”

Your clothes don’t stand a fucking chance.

His claws catch your shirt and rip. Fabric tears like wet paper. He’s not even trying to be careful. Just shreds it off, mouth biting its way down your chest, your ribs, your stomach—leaving bruises, welts, more shallow punctures. Blood blooms in hot trails, and he follows every drop with his tongue.

His hands—huge, clawed—grip your hips hard enough to bruise as he throws you onto the bed, clothes half-hanging off, breath caught in your throat.

You're still catching up, still blinking at him towering at the foot of the bed, shirtless, panting like he ran miles, sweat slick on his chest and broad shoulders, your blood staining his lips, and then he's on his knees.

You expect his tongue again.

You expect a tongue.

When his mouth drops between your legs and his face splits open wider than it has any right to, you barely have time to process it—because you see them.

Three tongues. Long, thick, slick with saliva. Moving independently. And they descend on you, no warning, no tease. He doesn't have time for that shit.

Just devastation.

He shoves your thighs apart and dives in, tongues moving like they’ve been starving for this—two spreading you open, one plunging deep and curling inside your cunt, fucking you while he holds you up like you weigh nothing.

You scream. Not just moan—scream. Because it’s too much. Wet, hot, writhing pressure on every nerve all at once, like his mouth was built to destroy you.

"What the fuck—" you yelp, hands flying to his hair, half prying him off, half pulling him deeper like you can't take it but want to.

And he growls into you. Deep, low, inhuman. The sound vibrates against your pussy, against your fucking soul, a guttural snarl like some wild thing burying its face in a fresh kill.

He's jacking himself off the entire time—fist pumping slowly, strangling, pre-cum drooling from the head of his cock, but not enough. Not nearly enough. This isn't for pleasure. It's just to keep from exploding.

His claws dig into your thighs as he lifts your hips off the bed like you're weightless, mouth working between your legs, tongues licking, twisting, ravaging.

Your back arches, you can’t breathe. You’re crying out his name—just guttural syllables and sobs—because it’s so much. So wet. So loud. Slurping, snarling, every movement feral and unrelenting.

When one of his tongues flicks over your clit and the others deepen, you lose it. Your orgasm hits like a brick wall, blinding and sudden, and you keen again—legs shaking, thighs clamping around his head, and he growls louder.

Moans.

Keeps fucking eating you.

Keeps jacking himself harder, like your orgasm made him hungry.

Because it did.

He breaks off only when you're twitching, overstimulated, barely conscious—and even then, he doesn’t speak. He just pants against your thigh, teeth latched to the soft skin there like a leech, blood and slick and saliva smeared across his mouth, stroking himself like he’s about to burst.

You're still trembling when he yanks your hips down the bed, claws dragging over your skin like he doesn’t even realize he’s touching you that hard. There's leftover blood, slick, spit, and he licks it off his palm like he can't help himself, before bracing himself over you—and that's when you see his cock.

Big is an understatement. It's obscene.

Long, thick, heavy, and curved just enough to make your insides clench on instinct. The skin is flushed dark, veins bulging, and it looks angry—like it’s been aching, throbbing, desperate for this for years.

You flinch when he lines up, heart thudding, and he hears it.

You expect another warning, maybe some stoic restraint. But no.

Jack leans in—panting, black sockets narrowed like every second he's not bruising your cervix is fucking strenuous—and spits in your mouth.

Heavy, hot, thick—your blood, his saliva, the mess of you—and your mouth is too open in shock to stop it.

"Swallow," he growls.

You do.

And that’s when he thrusts in, like the spit was only a diversion, like a doctor distracting a patient with small talk before driving a needle into their arm.

No teasing. No easing you into it. Just shoves the whole thick length of himself inside you in one brutal, unforgiving motion.

It's so fucking vicious that your scream catches in your throat, strangled and pained.

The stretch burns, splits you open, the pain folding over into something too deep and too hot to name. And he doesn’t fucking stop—doesn’t give you time to breathe before he’s got both your legs bent and pinned to your chest, folding you into a goddamn pretzel, pushing deeper.

His strength is terrifying.

He holds you down like nothing. Just one hand pinning your thigh against you, the other wrapping tight around your throat, thumb under your chin to tilt your head back, making you look at him—if you could see anything past the blur of tears and fucked-out haze.

His hips snap forward and you wail.

“Ohh, fuck,” Jack groans, voice thick, rough, feral, pace already too fast, too hard, too deep. “Tight little thing. Been starving for this. So—fucking—tight.”

The praise isn’t sweet. It’s raw. Like he’s talking to himself more than you. Like every inch of him is relieved to finally, finally bury himself in something hot and wet and clenching and have the weight of this blistering heat lifted off his shoulders.

“Feel that?” he grits through his teeth, pounding into you so hard the bed rattles beneath you. “Sucking me in—like you were made for it.”

You whimper, mouth open, barely forming words. His grip on your throat tightens—not enough to stop your air, just enough to control it.

“You’re gonna take every fucking inch,” he growls. “Take what I give you. Take—all of it."

His pace turns brutal. Every thrust punches a sound out of you—raw, helpless cries drowned out by the wet slap of skin, your blood and slick smearing between your bodies.

And still—he holds you there. Bent. Exposed. Pinned.

You can’t move. Can’t run. Can’t breathe. Just heave and wheeze out broken wails while he fucks into you like his sole purpose in life is to breed.

And when he shifts his angle, grinding deep, dragging against the spot inside you that makes your vision white out, you cum with a strangled sob. Instantly, without as much as a heads-up from your pussy.

He feels it.

“Fuck—there it is,” he snarls, still rutting into you, relentless. “That’s it, yeah— So fucking good for me. Just like that—fuck yes—just like that.”

The overstimulation has you clawing at his arms, legs shaking, breath catching on every moan that tears out of you, but all Jack does is growl. Low and heavy in your ear, dark praise melting into the crackling static of pure need.

"God, keep fucking clenching," he pants, voice thick with hunger, hips slamming against yours with brutal rhythm. "Tight little cunt. Gonna make me lose my fucking mind."

You’re whimpering—high and broken—when he finally pulls out with a wet pop that leaves your pussy gaping, twitching around nothing.

Before you can even think of begging for a break, you're flipped onto your stomach, your face barely sinking into his sheets before he slams back in from behind with a ragged, guttural snarl. You cry out, hands scrambling for grip, spine arched in a shiver of pain and heat as he bottoms out in one vicious thrust.

The stretch is horrible all over again. You're soaked, so open and used already, and still—he splits you wider.

Jack’s claws dig into the soft meat of your ass as he grabs two full handfuls, dragging you back into every sharp, hungry thrust. The sound is feral—skin clapping, bedsprings shrieking, his lupine growls vibrating in your chest.

Then his hand finds your hair.

He wraps it around his fist like a rope and yanks your head back, arching your spine and baring your throat. His pace never falters—he fucks you like he needs it to survive, like your body was made to take this. (It wasn't.)

You barely get a breath before his grip changes again—his arm slides around your neck, elbow snug against your throat, and he pulls you upright into him. Your back arches tight like a drawn bow, head lolling on his shoulder as he bends down to snarl into your ear.

The other hand slides over your stomach, down low, low—palming the spot where his cock bulges inside you, visible and so fucking deep.

“Feel that?” Jack breathes, breath hot and ragged. “That’s how fucking deep you're taking me. That's how deep you're gonna take my seed."

You can’t even speak. Just shudder and whimper, stuffed so full it aches deep in your belly. The arm around your neck tightens just enough to make you dizzy—floaty, pliant, mind slipping out of your control.

Right where your shoulder meets your neck, his teeth sink in deep again, sharp teeth and longer canines piercing skin like butter. You yelp, back arching harder, but he just holds you there, locked tight in his grip as blood wells up and rolls down your chest. His tongue drags over it, lapping it up greedily, moaning like your essence is just fueling Chernabog inside him. To breed, to fuck, to relieve, to destroy.

“Fuck... fuuuck me,” he snarls, every word a tremor. “Gonna fucking fill you— Breed this tight pussy, shit—"

He slams into you. Once. Twice. A third time—

And then he groans, loud and shaking, as he cums.

It’s hot. Endless. You can feel it pulse through his cock, feel the flood of it painting your insides, thick and heavy and too much. His hips don’t stop moving—slow now, dragging through your overstretched cunt just to make sure none of it goes to waste.

"Yeah—yes, yes—fuck," he rasps, breath stuttering as he presses in deep, so deep you feel it in your lungs. "Finally. Finally... fuck, take it—

Like he's been waiting for this. Like he’s been going rabid over the idea of this for months and now he’s got a warm, bleeding body to fill instead of his own fucking fist.

You feel so full that it would make you nauseous if you weren't on the brink of passing out.

Jack's still holding you there. Still buried deep, arms locked tight, cock twitching as the last of it seeps out of him.

“Mine now,” he murmurs against your ear, voice wrecked. “You feel that?”

You do. You just can't fucking answer, only managing a strangled little whine, more wounded animal than human.

[gaspexclamationpoint]

Marble hornets x Slendermansion AU but instead of Hoodie and Masky being proxies they also live in a small cabin in the same woods and are constantly trying to sabotage the creeps plans. Hoodie learns Jeff is supposed to kill some random family and follows him there to purposely set the home security system off and Masky jumps out of the closet and tackles Jeff. They all run away to their own homes afterwards when the cops are called. The Operator/Slenderman could put a stop to it if he so pleased, but finds the shenanigans amusing.

[scary-noodlesblog]

EJ nsfw alphabet?? Please 🥺

I gotchu bestie 💙 I am also a simp for the demon man

Eyeless Jack NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hes the best at aftercare, always making sure his partner is okay, if they're hungry or thirsty. Or if they're hurt from his teeth or claws. If his partner is hurt, he will feel so guilty, apologize profusely and patch them up.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

EJ is an ass man, well, hips, thighs and ass man. He loves that whole section. His favorite body part of his is his mouth. He likes to mark up his partner with bites, licks and kisses

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

9 times out of 10 he is cumming inside his partner, male or female. If his partner is a AMAB, EJ is not a spitter either. If his partner is AFAB, he's gonna be determined to make her squirt

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

EJ wants to do a doctor/patient roleplay or doctor/nurse roleplay with his partner, so fucking bad

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

As mentioned in my Juno x EJ NSFW Alphabet, he's has 3 sexual partners as a human, but none since becoming Eyeless Jack. So hes not inexperienced but hes not very experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has two, mating press (obviously) and doggy style. He likes watching the fat of his partner's ass jiggle in doggy style. I dont even need to explain the mating press.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

EJ is oh so serious. He is very rarely goofy during sex, he's the type to take it pretty seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

EJ likes it natural, but trimmed. However, he can survive if his partner wants him to go bald down there he absolutely will for his partner.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be very romantic, when he wants to be, or when its asked of him. Candles, flowers, oils, he can go all out.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

EJ will jerk off to or with his partner's underwear and shamelessly cum on them. Most of the time its the dirty ones from his partner's hamper...most of the time...

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Biting kink, breeding kink, size kink, and many more 😏

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mostly his or his partner's rooms, or their bathrooms. If him and his partner dont live together then hes okay with any room in his partner's house where they are alone. In the Slendermansion he's also okay with it in the infirmary. Or the woods. Just somewhere mostly private

M=Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I have headcannoned before that EJ gets turned on by his partner eating meat, specifically off a bone. The smell of his partner's arousal is also a heavy turn on

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No scat or piss play, i also feel like CNC would make him uncomfortable. Other than thst i feel like hes pretty willing

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves to give oral, will happily do it for hours as long as his partner will let him. Prefers to give rather than receive but won't complain if his partner wants to give him a blowjob, but hes big so hes cautious about gagging

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

EJ can be both. Sometimes its hard for him to not just absolutely rail his partner if they want it slow but he can restrain himself if thats what they want.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not the biggest fan, but EJ wouldn't mind having one. He'd much rather just wait until he can take his time

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

EJ likes to experiment, he likes to keep his sex life interesting. He might research some things and ask his partner if they would be willing to try it out just once

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

EJ can easily go 5+ rounds at once. Hell, he can go a dozen at least in a day if he wanted to. Its all what his partner can handle in that aspect.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didnt have any before his partner came around. But if his partner wants some, he is willing to use them on his partner, and hes more than okay with his partner using them themselves if he is out on a mission or something, but he probably wont use them on himself

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Arguably the biggest tease, very much likes his partner to tell him what they want him to do

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hes not super loud but is vocal. He likes to dirty talk to his partner. Besides that he will growl, snarl, groan, and grunt. He also whimpers when hes in heat

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

EJ will take his anger out on his partner. After a bad or stressful day his partner can expect to have their holes absolutely fucking destroyed or massaged in the best way possible. There is no in between.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

This boi is big. EJ is packing 9 inches long and about 2 inches thick. It has a slight curve upwards with a gray shaft and a darker gray tip. Its also slightly veiny with a couple prominent ones running from base to tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is pretty average except for when hes in heat. Twice a year around the end of spring and fall he goes into heat, where all he is doing is getting off.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always stays awake until his partner falls asleep. Once his partner is asleep, peaceful and content, then he will sleep, cuddling up to them happily

Thank you anon for the request! 💙

[spookycereals]

kinda regret drawing toby buff now cause everytime i see ticcijack this goes through my mind now

[sharp-silver4795]

Nsfw/nsft(?)

What are the most sensitive spots on each of the creepy's bodies?

So Sensitive~ 🔞

Oo~ okii

NSFT stands for “not-safe-for-tumblr”

Remember!! The ace folks and irl people are NOT included

⚠️ CW!!: sex, dick, pussy, I’m not entirely afab so I might get something wrong!!

Rouge Proxy - Breasts

Uhhhh- hmmmm- help? It’s just that she likes you messing with em? How do you play with tits? I’m too gay for that shit-

Wilson the Basher - cock’s underside

It speaks for itself I think. He loves blowjobs when ya run your tongue underneath. He’s a soft dom. You could prob peg him.

Kate the Chaser - navel region

Her belly is sensitive in a way where, if you’re about to go down on her, kiss and nip her tummy and she’ll be very wet

Neon Spike - thighs

Girly will be a flustered little thing if you but your hand on her her thigh and just slowly rub your thumb against it while keeping the rest of your hand still

X-Virus - Ears

Either the shell, lobes, or just underneath them, he’ll be a mess in no time.

Jane the Killer - under her jaw

Down with the hard dom!! Or not- it just makes her more aggressive- your pussy will not survive in the best way possible

Nina the Killer - pussy?

Idfk

Jeff the Killer - none

He’s too burnt to be too sensitive anywhere

Liu Woods - neck

They’re a massive top until you get ahold of his neck… then… well… no so much of a hard dom anymore

Nathan the Nobody - throat

Choke him! Choke him! Choke him! You can thank Liu for it!!

Clockwork - ass

Spanking kink!! Slap her ass in public and she’ll gladly fuck in the nearest alleyway

E. Jack - chest or slit

If you can’t do that, touch his chest. He doesn’t have nipples, but he has these little scar-like patterns that go over his body. Touch those all the way up and down and he’ll be panting. Mess with the ones on its chest and he’s yours.

Technically, you can eat him out. You just gotta do it before his cocks come out of his little pocket. Wait for it to open up a lil and stick your tongue in there. This demon will become your damn lapdog.

Judge Angels - no

Too much of a brat

Bloody Painter - chest

🤷 idk how else to say it or how to elaborate

Scarecrow Girl - back

It gives it a feeling of power when you claw at her back when she fucks you on a dildo.

Ani the Wight - yes

So much of a sub

Zero - uhhh

Too much of a dom

Kagekao - nope

Demon lmao

Dr. Smiley - hair/scalp

Pull his hair!!! He’ll moan so pretty for ya

Nurse Ann - stitches

It makes her feel loved despite her imperfections. She’ll melt in a more romantic way, but only during sex.

Or she’ll slice you in half for reminding her that they exist.

[ivankydemon]

UN BESO A 3

[bloody-heartstrings]

What would Lexi's reaction be to meeting Jack?

This is how I imagine their first meeting going

It’s rare the proxies actually go to the mansion where all the creepypastas live, as it’s only for if Slenderman has nothing for them to do.

The first few nights Lexi ever stayed there was early on in her being a proxy, and she was still really struggling, so she was getting no sleep. To try and distract herself, she would sit on the porch for hours, hoping it would make her tired.

I imagine E.J would come back late from “work” to find her there, which is how they would meet. Internally she would be really unsettled considering he’s covered in blood, but it wouldn’t surprise her considering who she is and who she’s surrounded by.

I wasn’t sure if you meant how they canonically met or if you meant how it would be if they never became creepypastas/proxies, so let me know if it was the latter ^^

[gh0stsblogs]

young Tobs n EJ

[cynnaghoul]

Eyeless Jack • HC Ref

Whoa, what the fuck is this!!

Just a little headcanon design ref for EJ, cause he's one of my favorite pastas 😔💔

I always loved the idea of him having a tail,, so I wanted to do my own little spin on it,,

Extra headcanons under the cut!!

- 7'2, still getting used to the height, but likes to carry smaller friends

- FRECKLES. HE EARNED THEM.

- Contrary to popular belief, I think he's one of the most sane because the worst he went through was cult sacrifice and shit, it's not like he lost his shit and went crazy, the man is just hungry

- I kinda agree with the idea of him having animal behaviors

- CLAWS

- Actually doesn't talk much, but will text (speech to text and also screen readers are a lifesaver)

- Doesn't care enough abt anyone's problems, will make a joke about it

- Sharp teefs, was tempted to say he has a shark mouth, but that felt like too much

- Twitchy ears,,

- Horribly neat in terms of organization, but a messy eater

- Cold blooded like a lizard

- Is a proxy, but not in the same way, it's rare that he gets assigned any real work

- Acts smarter than he actually is, proves this on a constant basis

- Very tough skin, makes him difficult to properly injure

- Has a preference for keeping his mask on

- Values his alone time

- Can tune people out like they weren't even there to begin with

- Loves gossip, though

- Lets Mia cut his hair all the time because he's fucking blind

- Has managed to somewhat map the manor out in his head, so he can move almost like he can see, but if you move everything an inch to the left, he'll crash like a drunk driver on the freeway

- Doesn't sleep often, but when he does, he sleeps like a rock or maybe a corpse

- Snores

- Actually a decent cook, but won't make food for anyone but his damn self and maybe a friend if like,, he really wanted to be nice? But he doesn't

- Doesn't share things, either

- At all

- Especially won't let people touch his things because what if they don't put it back where it belongs and he loses it forever

- Smacks people with his tail, uses the excuse that he's blind but it's on purpose

- Actually uses blindness as an excuse for a lot of things, mostly to avoid being useful

[umstitive]

I keep forgetting I can post here

Is there a Creepypasta fandom on tumblr

(I’m aware ticci Toby isn’t a part of the fandom anymore)

[thediaryofaurora]

𐬿Kinktober - Day 1𐬾

Theme: Bondage / knifeplay

Pairing: Jeff the Killer x friend!reader

CW: NSFW, smut without plot, f!reader

Happy Kinktober everyone! This is my first time writing smut since my Wattpad days, so bear with me. 😓

𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼

After all your past flings and hookups, you needed something more.

The guys you’ve met have all been too vanilla, leaving you unsatisfied. If you know anything, it’s that any of the girls Jeff takes to his room get their shit rocked; or at least that’s what you concluded from the screams and his broken bed frame. You’ve talked to him before, hell, you’d even consider yourself friends. However now, standing outside his door with your fist clenched ready to knock, that feeling of anxiousness is overwhelming. Maybe you should just walk away, but that option is thrown out the window when you hear his bed creek as he sits down. You need this. Finally building up the courage, you finally knock.

Tap tap tap.

It was gentle, maybe he didn’t hear it. Hopefully he didn’t. A wave of relief washes over you at the thought. Right when you turned to walk away, your head snapped back to his door as it opened. He was leaned against the door frame, it was obvious he had just gotten out of the shower. Strange to see him in such a natural state, it made the fantasy of him in your head even more real. Hair dripping, towel dry skin, a black wife beater, gray baggy sweatpants, and the aroma of his soap swirling around your head. He didn’t say anything, just a furrowed brow and confused look, but after noticing your shakiness and nervous glare he knew you wouldn’t be the first to speak.

“What?” His tone was on the brink of harsh, maybe even a little bit worried.

“Can I come in?” Your small, anxiety ridden voice was unusual for him to see. He opened his door wider and stepped to the side. You walked in, your hands still quivering, awkwardly making your way to the middle of his room. He could tell something was off, normally you seemed strangely comfortable around him, it almost made him mad to see you so… uncomfortable.

“I want you to fuck me.” Your gentle voice making the filthy demand sound so innocent. His heart dropped into his stomach, are you kidding? In all honesty, you even shocked yourself. He stood by his doorway in silence, staring at you like you were the crazy one. Softly he shut the door and walked over to you, throwing you over his shoulder and making you let out a small gasp. Before you could think he dropped you onto his bed on your back, knocking the wind out of you. He stood over you, looking down into your desperate gaze. Gently he began to slip of his tank top, his abs almost a shocker to you. It’s not like you didn’t know he was fit, but seeing it now, knowing what’s about to happen is exhilarating. After tossing his shirt to the floor he walked away, heading towards his closet. You wanted to ask what he was doing, but what if he changes his mind? Dragging out a box and digging through it, the silence in the room was so prominent. You thought he’d say more, or have any reaction for that matter. Realistically he was just as nervous as you; what if you changed your mind?

Your eyes widened as he walked over to you, carrying a few feet of dark red rope and two pairs of black handcuffs. You felt disgusting not being worried about what he’ll do, your panties soaking up your eagerness. He took your left arm and handcuffed it to his metal bed frame, then the next. He seemed so unfazed by the whole situation, simply walking to the end of his bed and beginning to tie your legs to either side of the foot board. He needed to hurry up, you need it now. Not even able to run your thighs together, absolutely no source of friction, making you grow impatient.

Walking to his nightstand he opened a drawer, taking out a belt of knives. You did want it rough, but that’s a little far, right? He took out a thin knife with rigged edges, seemingly brand new, before setting the pack back in his drawer. “What are you going to do with that?” You ask, the fear of him stopping no longer relevant. He looked up at you, seemingly surprised that you said anything after your everlasting silence. All he gave you was a smirk before getting on top of you, tugging at the hemline of your shorts. “You like these?”

“Yeah..? I mean they’re..” Before you could finish he took the small knife and cut them off, tugging them out from under you and throwing them to the side. To be fair, even if you had liked them a lot, the sight of him shirtless tearing off your bottoms was worth it. “What about the shirt?” He asked, gesturing to your shirt with his knife, but you knew no matter what your answer was it would get cut. At a loss for words, drowning in desperation, you shook your head. He put the knife against the bottom hem of your shirt before cutting it all the way to the neckline, exposing your lace bra. Then he moved onto the sleeves, cutting each of them until your shirt was nothing but a torn cloth beneath you. As you arched your back just barely so he could pull what remains of your shirt out from under you, he put the knife to your throat. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your chest, you knew he wouldn’t do anything… or at least you hoped he wouldn’t. The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. His nonchalant demeanor completely wiped away, replaced by a desperate, hungry glare as he looked in your eyes, at the knife, and back to you. He’s been wanting this. As fearful as you were, when he slightly moved his hips down to yours his boner was enough to distract you. Gently, so so gently, you began to grind your hips against his, the knife still at your throat. With the restraints there wasn’t much you could do, but you thought maybe if he noticed he’d take over. He gave you a playful look of disgust before a firm hand was placed to your stomach, forcing your hips down. “Use your words, baby.” His voice made your core ache, so horribly turned on that you could barely think. “Please, Jeff… I…”

“You what?” He teased with that dirty look in his eyes. He knows you want this. Slowly he leans down to your chest, dragging the knife across your bra, before setting it down beside you on the bed. Your confusion quickly passed when he began nibbling and placing tender kisses on your neck as he undid your bra, sliding it off of you and throwing it under his bed. The cool air of his room making your warm tits harden, the perkiness enough to make Jeff tired of the foreplay. He stated taking off his sweatpants and boxers, his dick springing out. You expected him to be on the bigger side, but not like that. His tip was already glistening in precum, so excited to be inside you. Looking down at your panties he let out a small exhale, holding himself back before grabbing his knife and shredding them off. The sight of your bare cunt was enough alone to make his length twitch, he was dying to fuck you. He glanced up at you, looking into your needy, desperate eyes. He licked his lips before giving himself a few pumps and scooting closer and lining his tip up with your throbbing pussy. “Are you ready, gorgeous?”

“Yes, yes please.” You sputter eagerly. With how gentle he’s been you expected him to slowly guide it in, maybe even talk you through it. Instead he slammed it all in at once, making you scream. He had already hit your cervix, as much as the sudden stretch hurt, the pleasure overrode it. You had never had someone so big put it in, let alone as rough. After soaking in you for a few seconds he pulled it all the way out, a whimper escaping your mouth. “Too big for you?” He laughed. His condescending tone only made you more horny.

Before you could answer he slammed back inside you, your eyes screwing shut from the pain as you let out a loud moan. This time he didn’t wait to pull out, he was already thrusting back in. His pace was rapid and harsh as he abused your poor, helpless cunt. Your body tensed as you tried to pull away from your restraints, but they wouldn’t budge, making you even more of a sex toy for him. He continued pumping in and out of you at an ungodly speed while digging his fingers into your hips. His panting and grunts grew louder, as he looked down at your tied up form, completely at his disposal.

“Is it good, baby?” He taunted, clenching his jaw as he took in the feeling of your clingy, gummy walls around him. Your head was fuzzy as the knot in your stomach tied, watching him stare into your eyes so teasingly. It was pure euphoria, your clenched cunt being used like this while you’re tied up. You felt your climax coming to a breaking point, your moans and panting making it too difficult to speak. “J-Jeff I’m.. I’m gonna- Ah, fuck!” Your screams of pleasure echoed throughout the room while your cum coated his cock, but he didn’t stop there. He picked his knife back up and positioned himself on top of you, still ruining your pussy as he pressed the knife to your tits and cut little slits into you. Your winces mixed with your moans while he gave you more cuts all of we your chest, ravaging into you and licking the blood away from his previous work. The grip he had on his knife tightened and his mouth fell, his thrusts growing sloppy signaling he was about to finish. Grunting and tossing his knife aside he grabbed you by the neck, pining you even more to the bed, and kissing you roughly as his cum filled your cunt. He rode out his high inside you, his pace slowing down before he pulled out and collapsed beside you.

“Was the at what you wanted?” He panted, trying to use a degrading tone, but you knew he was worried you wanted something more.

“Absolutely.”

𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼

Kinktober Masterlist

Creepypasta Masterlist

[hall0ween13]

Another drawing from my creepypasta folder.

My favorite demon <3

｡o♡o｡+｡o♡o｡+｡o♡o｡+｡o♡o｡+｡o♡o｡+

[banemaus]

walk with me. sleeper proxies with hcs in the tags

(dialogue in image desc if you can’t read my handwriting)