[angels-ipod]

A joke that you’re not in on.

Summary; You have to read between the lines constantly, and it's so hard to hold a meaningful relationship with them when someone new comes along and replaces you.

ratings; a for angst because I say none of you can be happy again

Contains; Toby, Ben, EJ, Nina.

Pt1 with; Tim, Jeff, Habit, Brian.

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[sushizushi6]

[cann1balegg]

Forgot to post it here but my version of the trend🪓

[annokan]

I was wondering if you have a design for Toby’s sister Lyra?

I like her canon design actually So i tried to replicate it in my style

[rainrot4me]

Seven Minutes in Heaven - BEN

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──────────────────────────────────── lithium - nirvana

── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.

CONTAINS NSFW, MINORS DNI

✦ . Summary: (No correlation to other parts, only prologue) The bottle lands on Ben.

✦ . Characters: BEN x Female Reader

✦ . Warning: Alcohol, weed/cannabis, teasing, embarrasment, using a bong, ben is just a piece of shit but like kinda hot about it, spanking, altered states, high sex, forced proximity, perverted ben, degrading, cunnilingus, blowjobs, 69 position, outdoor sex, extremely dirty talk

✦ . Words: 9.2k

✦ . Note: This is my first time writing Ben in a while, and I just want to lay it out and say--no, this is not a 12-year-old. This is BEN, the floating elf thing who could obliterate your entire online presence and crawl through your screen and blah blah blah. He's basically if wireplay was a person. Otherwise, enjoy!

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As you watched this little bottle decide your fate, you couldn’t help but become distracted by the thought that this whole game was probably just a clever way for everyone to forget about cleaning up the mess they’d already made. 

And to drink more. You really should’ve gotten more alcohol in your system when you had the chance. At least then you might not care so much.

The bottle slowed, then teetered to a stop. On the other end, sat a very unconscious and unaware Ben.

He was slumped on the couch next to Jeff, his head tipped all the way back against the cushions, completely oblivious to the compromising position he had just ended up in. 

“Dude,” Jeff poked at him with the butt of the vodka bottle in his hand, knocking his legs to the side. When that didn’t work, Jeff rapped the bottle against Ben’s head hard enough to hear a thunk.

Ben jostled upright, rubbing at his temple as he glared at Jeff. “Fucking what?” He punctuated the -t sound at the end.

Then he noticed everyone staring at him, looking from face to face. His eyes dropped to the bottle on the table and confirmed exactly what he looked like he suspected. He looked up at you, blinking at you a couple of times as if he was processing it.

Then he dropped his head back onto the cushion, “Nah.”

You scoffed, a little wounded. “Nah?”

Ben didn’t even give you the courtesy of sitting up as he slung his arm around Jeff’s shoulders, tugging the dark-haired boy closer. He made exaggerated kissy noises against Jeff’s cheek, grinning as the other shoved at him.

“Nah. Cause if I wanted to get my dick wet, I’d know who to ask.”

Jeff barked out a laugh and shoved at Ben’s face, but he was grinning too. This spurred on some sort of wrestling match as Nina took the opportunity to steal Jeff’s vodka out of his hand, cringing as she watched them, “I don’t think they’re kidding, either.”

Ben eventually got shoved clean off the couch, landing on his back on the floor. He kicked at Jeff’s shins in retaliation, but Jeff was too busy realizing his vodka bottle had mysteriously disappeared, and somebody was taking drinks from it.

“Hey—who the fuck—” Jeff snatched it back from Nina, who was giggling behind her hand. Ben took back to closing his eyes and laying his head back on the floor, content to not acknowledge you as you glared at him.

Jeff lightly kicked at the side of Ben’s head next to his shoe as he took a swig of his vodka, then he made a ‘mmh’ noise like he’d realized something, before looking down at the blond. “Wonder if you could hotbox the closet.”

One second Ben was sprawled on the ground. In a blur, he was on his feet, snatching his translucent green bong off the coffee table with one hand and grabbing your arm with the other.

“Let’s go,” he pulled you up.

You squirmed, trying to dig your heels in. “Ben, wait—I didn’t even—”

But no one was paying attention. The group had already moved on, shuffling cards and arguing over who got to deal next while they waited for their turn. All you got as you looked back was a sly wave from Jeff. Ben tugged you down the hallway insistently. You opened your mouth to argue again when Nina’s voice rang out behind you.

“Turn on the music!”

Ben waved his hand without even looking back. The stereo in the living room suddenly blasted to life, the volume cranked way up and pumping through the floorboards. People shouted thanks as their conversations became drowned out.

Ben reached the closet door at the end of the hall and let go of your arm to open the door. You were met with the dark entrance and what appeared to be zero breathing room, and Ben pointed inside.

“Up and at ‘em. We don’t got all night.”

“Ben, you’re a serious ass, you know tha—” Your sentence is cut by Ben’s hand flying up into your face, his fingers positioned into a little sock puppet mouth pose as he mocked the words that came from your mouth sarcastically. 

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” he deadpanned.

You glared at him, crossing your arms, then turning to walk inside the closet without another word. He stepped in behind you, the two of you siding to opposite walls to face each other, but realizing just how little space there was when your shoes touched his. Ben kicked at you to move, but with all the boxes and hanging clothes around you, it was impossible not to be stepping on top of the other. When the door pulled shut, the darkness was really the cherry on top to the whole situation.

Save for the thin line of light leaking in from under the door, it was pitch black in here. The air grew warmer almost immediately as you stood in there, heavy with the dense, earthy smell of weed that always clung to the blond like a second skin.

You shifted your weight, “You gonna turn on the light?”

He didn’t answer.

You pushed, getting nervous, “Ben?”

A little chuckle came from the darkness right in front of you.

“Kinda moody in here, huh?”

You scoffed and kicked lightly at his shin. He laughed the tension from you and suddenly the bulb overhead flared on without anyone touching the chain. Soft yellow light flooded the dark space.

Ben was standing close. Closer than you expected him to be.

His blond hair was a complete mess of strands falling into his eyes and layers sticking up. The pointed tips of his ears poked out through the mess, flinching at nothing. His eyes stood out the most amongst his lightwashed palette. His black scleras encased these gleaming red irises, seemingly radiating amongst the inkly color. He was wearing an old graphic tee that had seen better days and a pair of baggy jeans held up by a chunky belt that seemed like it belonged on someone twice his size.

But what really held your attention were his tears.

They were always there as far as you knew, those dark streaks running down his pale cheeks. Up close, you could see how they slowly dissolved into the air right around his jawline, fading like they were dissolving. Fresh ones kept forming at the corners of his eyes, sliding down his skin before they too fizzled out into nothing and started again.

But for a boy who was always crying, you didn’t feel very bad, considering he always found a way to pester your sentimentality away.

“Take a picture or something.”

You snapped out of it, “What?”

“You’re staring.”

Ben began packing the bowl for the bong, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. You followed, awkwardly avoiding his limbs as you settled across from him and became packed in by the boxes and junk. He would randomly ask you to hold something—the bowl, the bong itself, a small bag of weed—but otherwise stayed quiet, focused on what he was doing. You took the opportunity to explore the boxes on the floor around you. Most of it was junk like old magazines, tangled string lights, and dusty clothes. But you dug deeper into one box and lit up.

“Oh my god, it’s a Game Boy!” you exclaimed, pulling the little purple device out triumphantly.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “That’s probably been in here for years. Bet it’s dead.”

You groaned, pressing the power button anyway. Nothing happened. “Of course.”

Ben held his hand out. You passed it over, thinking maybe he would chuck it away, but he pressed the power button and the screen flickered to life with it’s little electronic chime.

He handed it back with a smug little grin. “You’re welcome.”

You took it eagerly and immediately started playing Tetris, the familiar music crackling through the old speakers. Ben finished packing the bowl, fishing in his pockets for his lighter as he leaned forward to look over your screen.

“You’re gonna die,” he said flatly when you tried to force a line.

“Shut up, I’ve got this,” you pushed back, laughing when the blocks stacked up anyway.

Ben lit the bowl and took a couple of hits to get it started, holding his breath in before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. The sweet smell of weed quickly filled the air, mixing with the dust and old coats to give you a sensory overloaded experience.

He held it out to you. “Your turn, loser.”

You shook your head, too focused on the little screen. “I’m playing my game.”

You were so close to clearing the level, but just before passing, the blocks suddenly pixelated out of the border, and the whole board filled up instantly. GAME OVER popped across the screen as the power to the toy cut off.

You let out an exasperated groan and tossed the Game Boy back into the box it came from. “I don’t want any. I’ve never even used one of those anyway, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Ben scoffed from where he was sitting, going to light the bowl again. “Figures.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “What does that mean?”

He took a long hit, the water bubbling loudly as smoke filled the chamber. He held it for a second, then exhaled a thick cloud toward your face before shrugging, smoke filtering from his lips as he spoke.

“There’s no way you’ve made it this far in life and haven’t hit a bong. That’s such lame-ass behavior.”

You scoffed right back and kicked at his leg. “I’ll probably get a contact high just from being in here with you, asshole.”

Ben rolled his eyes and shoved the bong into your hands anyway. “Shut your yapping and listen to me.”

You stared at the glass piece like it might bite you. Ben leaned over and started rummaging through the junk around you. He pulled out a couple of old shirts and towels, then turned and started stuffing them tightly under the crack of the closet door, sealing it as best he could.

Ben was satisfied with his little setup. He turned back to face you and gripped the neck of the bong. He adjusted it in your hands, showing you how to hold it properly, then pressed the mouthpiece against your lips.

“Alright, listen,” he said, surprisingly non-sarcastically. “When I light it, you’re gonna inhale. It burns a little more than normal weed, so take it easy at first. Don’t try to be a hero or anything.”

You’d never seen Ben this attentive with something before. It made you laugh a little under your breath.

He immediately got defensive, shoving at your shoulder. “What? Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you smiled. “Alright. I’m ready.”

You pressed your lips to the rim. Ben sparked the lighter and held it to the bowl, angling the neck for you. The second smoke clouded the chamber, you inhaled.

It hit a lot harder than you realized it would.

The smoke burned with this heaviness that cigarettes don’t have. You tried to hold it like you’d seen others do, but your throat closed up fast and you got choked. You only managed a tiny breath before pulling back, coughing in fits as smoke sputtered out of your mouth in puffs. You pushed the bong away from your face, your eyes already watering.

Ben busted out laughing, falling back against the wall. “That was so shit.”

You swatted at him between coughs, “Shut up—it burns—”

“You have to go again. That barely counted.”

You waved him off, trying to catch your breath. “Give me a second. Jesus Christ…”

You had barely gotten any and your head was already swimmy. Your throat burned. You weren’t sure if this was supposed to be fun, but half the mansion seemed obsessed with getting high on the roof most nights. You wanted to understand why.

So you took the bong back from him.

Ben leaned back forward and sparked up the lighter again. “Take it slower this time. Don’t suck it like a vacuum, just take a deep breath.”

You pressed your lips to the mouthpiece again. Ben lit the bowl, and you inhaled a bit slower this time, trying to let the smoke fill your lungs without choking on it. It still burned, but you managed to hold it longer. When you finally pulled away, you coughed again, but not as violently. Smoke curled out of your mouth as you handed the bong back to Ben, coughing only in small gasps now.

He just grinned at you as he sat the bong next to him. “Atta girl.”

You leaned your head back against the wall and took a few deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as you stared to the ceiling. Dust mites floated in the space overhead, swimming in the light and the smoke that now floated through the space. You feel hazy, like everything has begun to feel pressurized and dazed, like you were looking at the world through a thick sheet of film. You hadn’t noticed it before, but the constant thump of the music from the living room vibrated up through the floorboards and into your legs, vibrating the rest of your body along with it.

You were jarred from your state by the feeling of something tugging at your shoe. You looked down to see Ben absently playing with the laces of your shoe, twisting them around his finger and playing with the strings.

He shoved your leg away when you began to giggle a bit.

“How do you feel?” he hummed.

“Weird.”

Ben nodded, “Yeah.” Then, after a beat, “Just wait until you start feeling the bugs under your skin.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He held the serious expression for half a second before cracking into a grin, “I’m kidding.”

You shivered anyway, but the laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. It felt ridiculous, the kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake even though nothing was really even that funny. Ben’s laugh mixed with yours until you were both giggling.

Ben suddenly sat up a little straighter, like a thought had just hit him. “Oh shit, wait— here, look at this.”

He leaned forward and dug into his back pocket, pulling out his very cracked phone. The screen was covered in tiny fractures, but it still lit up when he tapped it. You watched curiously as he swiped through a few things, then clicked on a video and turned the phone toward you, placing it carefully in your hands.

You immediately narrowed your eyes. “If you’re about to show me porn, I’ll kill you.”

Ben just laughed and put his hand on top of your head, angling your face down toward the screen. “Shhh. Just watch.”

It was one of those weird trippy videos that had a colorful illusion flowing across the screen, everything really vibrant and clear in an uncanny way. At first you laughed, saying, “These are so stupid,” but the longer you stared, the harder it became to look away. It felt strange… like the swirling shapes and shifting grids held all of your attention.

Ben smiled, clearly satisfied. “Yeah, I know that’s right.”

He went back to absently playing with the laces of your shoe, twisting and untwisting them as you watched his phone.

Without you even touching the screen, the video started scrolling on its own, showcasing new patterns and swirling colors fading in every few seconds. You watched, mesmerized, as the shapes twisted and folded into themselves before scrolling to another video.

You didn’t look up from the phone when you said, “It’s so stupid that you can just do that.”

Ben sighed, “Perks of being me, y'know."

You laughed when the videos scrolled onto Minecraft parkour runs instead.

“It must be so easy,” you mumbled, “just turning on and using whatever you want without using your hands.”

Ben hummed in agreement, clearly amused at your interest in him. You couldn’t help but blurt out, “And getting blackmail on everyone.”

He laughed outright at that. He let his arm rest across your shins, “You have no idea.”

The screen changed again. This time it wasn’t a video—it was his photos. The image that popped up was of a skinny little pale boy with messy brown hair, missing a couple teeth, and grinning bigtime for a school photo. It just looked to be a ratty little kid.

You stared, trying to place him. “Who is that?”

Ben smiled, “Jeff.”

You looked back down at the photo, then up at Ben again. A surprised laugh barked out of you before you could stop it.

“No way,” you grinned. “That’s Jeff? He looks so… little.”

“His mugshots aren’t much better either.”

Ben reaches for his phone and pockets it before reaching down for the bong again. He lit it, took a hit, and passed it over to you like before.

You managed it on your own this time, though Ben still held the lighter for you, how courteous. Smoke plumed out and joined the cloud overhead. You wondered how long you’d actually been in here? Two minutes? Two hours? Time felt slippery now, hard to pin down. But you were starting to understand the appeal. Everything felt softer, a lot slower.

You passed the bong back and asked, “What do you even do when you’re high?”

Ben thought about it for a second, his hand falling back to rest on your shins and rubbing absently along your pant leg. He clearly didn’t think about it too hard, though.

“Jerk off,” he said plainly.

Your face heated at your cheeks. You rolled your eyes and kicked at him. “Be serious.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “I’m not lying. Nothing feels better than getting high as fuck and jerking your shit. Lol.” He said “lol” part out loud at the end, which made you cringe so hard you thought you might die.

Then he gave you a real answer, “Eat. Play Siege. Go for walks…” 

At that, he seemed to think of something, then patted your leg eagerly. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

You looked at him before glancing toward the door. “But… we’re playing the game.”

Ben waved that off. “Nah. I got lumped into this. I’m not even really playing, I just did it cause it was you.”

You tensed a little. “Where? Won’t the others get worried?”

He was already starting to stand, pushing his messy blond hair out of his face as he picked up the bong too. “Just come on.”

You pushed yourself up to stand with him, surprised by how airy your body felt, like your limbs were a little lighter than usual, a gentle swimmy sensation rolling through you as you rose into the thick cloud of smoke that was previously hovering over your head. 

Ben gripped the door handle, cracking it open just a sliver to peek into the hallway first. Then he reached back, his hand sliding snugly around yours as he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the smoke poured out, drifting lazily down the hall out ahead of you. The cool air from the hallway hit your skin and you sighed, relieved by the fresh rush against your flushed cheeks. Ben kept a hold on your hand, guiding you through the halls and around corners, dodging a couple lingering around in empty rooms as he dropped his bong on the hallway table and pushed out the back.

You eventually pushed through the back door and stepped out onto the deck. The night air was crisp and clean, a welcome contrast to the smoky warmth of the house. You climbed down the stairs after him, stepping out into the yard.

“Where are we going?” you asked again.

Ben glanced back at you. “Somewhere nicer.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you just absently held his hand as he pulled you across the backyard toward the treeline. The grass was cool and damp under your shoes. He led you down a narrow path you didn’t recognize, the trees closing in around you until the lights and noise of the mansion faded into the distance behind you, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere far off.

You glanced over at him. Ben’s dark eyes were half-lidded now as he walked the path, he looked sleepy, and it made you giggle.

Ben glared at you playfully. “Hush.”

“Your eyes look funny,” you smiled.

He grinned down at you lazily, “Yours look pretty funny too. Geeked as hell.”

As you kept walking, the moonlight grew more and more filtered by the canopy overhead until the darkness felt more dense than back at the house. In the little moonlight, Ben’s red irises seemed to glow against the black of his pupils, like two small embers smoldering in the night. You found yourself getting lost in them, staring a little too long, until your foot caught on a root and you stumbled forward.

Ben’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you upright before you could fall.

“Careful,” he teased, “don’t fall on your ass.”

You shoved at his shoulder. “Worry about your own ass.”

Then he slowed to a stop. “We’re here.”

You looked forward and felt your breath leave you.

The trees opened up into a small quarry, the ground dropping into a clear swimming hole. Moonlight spilled across the water’s surface, sparkling like scattered diamonds as it rippled and sloshed against the bank. The whole place felt like a dream, the air carrying the scent of pine and wet river stones.

“Wow…” you whispered, stepping out from the treeline and onto the rocky bank. The view was beautiful, peaceful in a way the rest of tonight wasn’t.

“Not bad, right?”

You tilted your head to him. “How did you even find this place?”

“Followed EJ out here one night ‘cause I was bored. He comes out here sometimes really late. I liked it, so now I sneak out when everyone’s being annoying.”

You smiled at him, unable to resist teasing him. “Wow. He does feel.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

You turned back toward the water, letting the cool night air wash over your skin. It felt good after the density in the mansion. The soft lap of the water was enough to drown everything else out.

Before you heard shuffling behind you. 

You felt as Ben walked up behind you, his presence radiating. He was close. You froze as you felt his arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you gently back against his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his warm breath brushing your neck and sending goosebumps lining your skin.

“Ben?” you sounded as confused as you felt.

He hummed softly, “It’s nice tonight.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You stood there stiffly, staring out at the water, half-convinced this was some kind of sick joke. But your cheeks burned so bad you might’ve hoped it wasn’t.

“The water sure is pretty, huh?” he murmured.

You nodded, still trying to figure out what was happening.

“Wanna get a closer look?”

Then, you felt his hands slide from around your waist, and a hard shove on your back.

You stumbled forward with a startled yelp, your arms windmilling out in front of you as you lost your balance. The bank dropped off sharply, and you plunged into the cold water below with a loud splash. It was only waist-deep, but the cold shock still knocked the breath out of you. You came up sputtering, your hair plastered to your face and your clothes hanging wetly off your body.

You whipped around, coughing and gawking up at the bank.

Ben stood there wide-eyed and bushy tailed.

“You—you asshole!” you choked out, wiping water from your eyes.

“You should see your face right now.”

Ben dug into his pocket, pulled out his cracked phone, and snapped a quick photo of you standing there dripping wet. The flash lit up the quarry for a split second, as well as your irritated face.

He just tossed his phone onto the grass and reached back to tug his shirt over his head. Your mouth went a little dry at the sight of his lean, pale torso standing against the moonlight, the subtle lines of muscle shifting as he moved. He unclasped his belt and slid it from loops, then shoved his jeans and shoes off, leaving him in just his green boxers—which made you scoff. Without another word, he took a running start off the bank and dove into the deeper water.

The splash sprayed onto you. You braced your arms up, but still got soaked all over again. When the water settled, Ben popped back up, shaking his head like a dog. His blond hair was dark and flat against his skull for a second before he ran both hands through it, messing it back up into a dripping frizz.

You waded towards the dock. “You’re insane.”

Ben sighed dramatically, already treading out toward the deeper part of the swimming hole. “Relax. It’s just water.”

You climbed back up onto the bank, irritated but also weirdly energized by the need to pester the blond back. You kicked off your sopping shoes. Two could play this game.

You started peeling off your wet jeans, the denim clinging stubbornly to your legs before you finally yanked them off. Then you grabbed the hem of your soaked shirt and pulled it up and over your head, tossing both garments onto the grass with a wet plop. You were left in just your bra and panties, the night air raising goosebumps across your skin.

Ben had gone quiet.

You glanced over as you stepped back toward the water. He was watching you the entire time. His face had disappeared under the surface, only his eyes floating above the surface as he watched you move into the shallows, staring at you like he was trying to commit the sight to memory.

You waded out toward the deeper part, the cold water rising up your thighs, then your waist. The stones and moss felt slick under your feet. Your high made all the textures and temperature of the water elevated, all your senses alight with different sensations and feelings that couldn’t be described as anything other than good.

When you finally waded out to where he was, your feet barely touched the bottom, forcing you to tread water to stay afloat. Ben didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you approach. When you got close enough, he rose a little higher out of the water, blinking at you with those pretty glowing red eyes.

His gaze shot down to your chest for half a second before snapping back up to your face. The moonlight shone softly over both of you, catching in the droplets on your skin and making everything look a little unreal, a little dreamlike.

You tilted your head, smiling a little. “What’s the matter?”

Ben huffed, looking away toward the trees. “You’re a tease.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. You reached out, letting your fingers trace lightly down his chest, smearing the water across his pale skin. His muscles twitched under your touch like it shocked him. Ben stayed quiet, but you could see the way his jaw tightened.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, you splashed the biggest wave of water you could right into his face.

Ben sputtered, wiping at his eyes as you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach so hard you almost went under.

“You were so shy!” you teased. “Look at you—”

He didn’t even let you finish. Ben splashed a wave right back at you, drenching your face and hair. You squealed, laughing harder as the cold water hit you, and the fight was on.

The two of you went back and forth, splashing and dodging like kids, the quarry echoing with your laughter and his playful curses. Every time you thought you had the upper hand, Ben would lunge forward and send a huge splash your way, grinning like an idiot the whole time. Water flew everywhere, catching the moonlight in bright arcs as you both tried to outdo the other.

At one point you tried to swim away, but Ben caught your ankle and yanked you back, pulling you toward him until you were both laughing too hard to keep splashing at the other properly. You ended up pushing at his shoulders while he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from escaping.

“You started it,” he accused.

“You deserved it,” you shot back.

You registered where Ben’s hands were the moment they gripped your hips under the water, his palms warm against your skin as you tried to stabilize yourself in the deeper part. Ben noticed your struggle and pulled you closer to him.

“Wrap your legs around my hips,” he mumbled.

Your heart hammered as you did what he asked, hooking your legs around him. Ben’s hands slid down to support your thighs, holding you up effortlessly in the water. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for balance, feeling the cool water lapping up around your bodies as you floated together.

“This is kinda hot,” the blond said, completely shameless.

You swatted at his shoulder. “You’re such a pervert.”

Ben shrugged. “It’s hard not to be when you’re around.”

You noticed then how the water mixed with the dark tears that always ran down his cheeks. They smeared into wet gray streaks across his pale skin. Without thinking, you reached up and wiped at them with your thumb, cleaning the streaks away before new dark tears reappeared.

Ben blinked at you, surprised, but made no move to say anything about it. His hands started roaming, sliding over your legs and hips, then slipping back toward your ass. You pinched his shoulder.

“Careful,” you warned, though your tone was soft.

Ben groaned at you, his fingers hooking into the hem of your panties at your waist and giving them a little tug.

“This isn’t fair,” he complained, knotting his brow.

You hummed. “Life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, but you could be to me, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what have you done to deserve my fairness?”

You traced a finger along his jaw as you said it. Ben’s expression shifted into a pout, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before back up to your eyes.

“I’ll be nice,” he sounded almost sweetly.

You gawked at him, exasperated at that answer. “So you’ll only be nice when you want something? That’s what I'm hearing?”

Ben tugged you closer by the waist, bodies brushing under the water.

“Yeah,” he admitted, before pinching your hip in return. “But I know you like it when I’m mean.”

You saw his angle, watching as his eyes dipped down and he tried to lean in closer toward your lips.

You cut him off by pressing your hand over his mouth. Then you untangled your legs from around his hips, pushing away with a laugh. Ben let you go, but not without complaining. “Awh, c’mon. You know you want me.”

You waded toward the shallow bank, glancing over your shoulder at him with a grin. Once the water was only knee-deep, you stepped out onto the grass, the cool air chilling your wet skin. Your clothes were soaked through where you had dropped them, so you laid them out flat on the grass to dry.

Behind you, you heard Ben leaving the water too. Then came a low whistle.

You turned to see him staring shamelessly at your ass while you were bent over arranging your clothes. You straightened up and flipped him off, before treading over to a dry patch of grass and sitting down.

Ben followed, dropping down beside you. You both lay back, looking up at the moon and the scattered stars, letting the breeze slowly dry your skin. 

You broke the comfortable silence first.

“I guess we’ll have to wait until my clothes dry before we go back.”

Ben shifted beside you, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. A few droplets of water fell from his messy blond hair onto your shoulder. 

“I know a way we could pass the time.”

You shoved at his face, pushing him back down to the grass with a laugh. “You’re relentless.”

He chuckled but didn’t push it, settling back beside you again.

You stared up at the sky, your mind still a little swimmy and dense from the weed earlier. Your high had settled into a pleasant wave that made everything feel softer around the edges. You reached down and plucked at a few blades of grass, rolling them between your fingers.

The question slipped out before you could stop it.

“Why do you smoke so much?”

Ben was quiet for a long moment. You could hear the rustle of grass as he shifted beside you.

“I like the way it makes me feel,” he said eventually. “Like… it makes me feel real. Like not just a bunch of code crammed into a body. I guess.”

You turned your head to look at him. He was still staring up at the stars, red eyes reflecting the moonlight above. For once, you didn’t think he looked all that bratty.

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just stayed silent, the two of you lying side by side under the night sky.

Until you felt a hand trace lightly along your waist, fingertips brushing your bare skin. You shivered a bit at the contact. You leaned up on your elbows, glaring at him. “Ben—”

“And it feels extra good when I do this when I’m high,” he gleamed.

You opened your mouth to question him, but you felt what he was talking about soon after.

It started prickly, like when your hand goes numb after sitting on it too long. Then it shifted into something else—a sort of staticky buzz, like the old TV static you used to get when you put your face too close to the screen, but a margin more intense. It followed wherever his fingers moved, crackling warmly across your skin.

“What is that?” You gasped.

“Dunno. Energy? I think? It just feels awesome when I’m jerking off.”

You watched, wide-eyed, as Ben’s hand rubbed slowly over your abdomen, then your waist, then down to your hips. The static sensation made your muscles twitch, a soft whine slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Feels nice, right?” he asked.

“It feels weird,” you managed, voice a little too breathy for your liking.

But he didn’t stop. His hand continued its path down your thighs, then back up to your ribs. Your breath caught sharply when his fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot just under your chest, and Ben’s smile widened as he watched your face.

“Shut it,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks burning.

“Careful,” he teased, “or I might think you like it.”

His hand kept moving, inching ever so slowly toward the hem of your panties. His voice dropped quieter, almost to a murmur.

“Do you like it?”

It was hard to think straight with all the sensations buzzing across your skin, but you nodded, fingers gripping the blades of grass beneath you.

Ben’s hand inched further down. “What if I keep going?”

You finally looked at him, blinking up at his face as he leaned closer over you. You were so annoyed by him it was ridiculous—that lazy grin, those ember eyes, the way he always seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons. But maybe it was the weed, or the buzz in the air, or just how purely horny you were in this moment, because you nodded again.

Ben finally leaned in, tilting his head down to press his lips to yours. At the same time, his fingers pressed against you over your panties. Your legs immediately tried to snap shut, but he was already between them. You gasped into the kiss, one hand gripping his arm tightly while the other tangled in his messy blond hair.

He kissed you deeply, wet tongue sliding against yours as his fingers began to rub little circles over your folds through the damp fabric. The static sensation from his touch lit up your nerves like fireworks, making your hips twitch up into his hand. He ground his palm against your cunt, drawing a muffled moan from you.

Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing a little heavier.

“You’re so wet,” he teased, pecking your lips.

You let out an exhausted laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “It’s just ‘cause I wore them in the water.”

Ben shushed you, trying to hide his smile against your lips. “Don’t ruin this for me, yeah?”

You smiled against his mouth, nodding as he kissed you once more. His fingers kept up that rhythm, rubbing and pressing through your panties until you were squirming under him, your hips rolling up frequently to meet his touch.

Ben chuckled as you whined under him. “You’re so noisy,” he murmured, nipping at your cheek. “Pipe down before someone hears you.”

You cursed under your breath. “Then stop teasing me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyebrows raised in mock exasperation. “Teasing? Girlie, this is not teasing. This is—”

He let his hand slip away from you completely, leaving you aching and frustrated. Then, with a wicked little grin, he hovered just one finger above your clit. Tiny pulses of static electricity danced from his fingertip, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves without any real pressure. 

“Cut it out,” you whined.

Ben tilted his head. “Then you need to talk nicer to me.”

You huffed, feeling embarrassed, but the ache between your legs won out. “Please…”

He hummed, pretending to think it over. “I don’t listen to babies. I listen to big girls who know how to use their words.”

Your face flushed hot. For a second you wondered if you were dreaming—this couldn’t be real life, not with Ben saying something so lewd.

“Are you gonna be a big girl?”

He finally pressed his finger firmly against your clit firmly, causing you to sputter out, “Will you… finger me please?”

Ben hummed again, “Nah.”

You groaned in frustration. “You’re doing this again? Nah??”

He patted your cunt before pulling his hand away and rolling onto his back beside you, tucking his hands behind his head like he was settling in for a nap. You lay there, hot and bothered and honestly a little angry, staring up at the stars while Ben looked far too pleased with himself.

“Ben…” You whined.

He just unrepentantly closed his eyes, the picture of relaxation. “I wish I had some food right now. I’m starving.”

You scoffed, sitting up and looking down at him. “Benjamin.”

Ben finally cracked an eyelid open, eyeing you. “I know a snack I could have.”

You hit his chest, but he caught your hand and tugged you down toward him. He pecked your lips as he spoke, “Will you ride my face?”

You pulled back and covered your face with both hands, mortified. “Fuck off.”

Ben tsked, clearly enjoying the reactions he was getting out of you. “Nah. I know you’re into that freaky shit. I’ve seen your browser history.”

You glared at him, but the flush on your face only got worse. His fingers traced your hips again, hooking into the waistband of your panties and tugging at them playfully.

He lay back fully, pulling at your hands until you were kneeling next to him. “Come on, girlie. Don’t be shy.”

You told him to quit, but your body was already moving. You turned away from him so your back faced his head, and slowly swung one leg over. Ben got excited immediately, his hands guiding your thigh as you straddled his face, kneeling on your knees. You placed your hands on his abdomen, bracing your weight against him as his fingers gripped and prodded at your hips, pulling you down.

“I don’t want any of that hovering shit either.” Ben sounded overly eager. “Sit dooown.”

Ben tugged your hips roughly. You gasped when you felt his lips press against you over the fabric of your panties, his breath creating damp spots against the soaked material. You felt your lips falling open as he kissed repeatedly over your clit.

“Been waiting for this,” he muttered, groaning against your cunt.

He reached up and tugged the lining of your panties aside. The air hit your bare skin and made you shiver, nervousness making the hair on your arms stand up. Then you felt his finger press against your folds, smearing your wetness up to your clit and watching how slick collected on his thumb. You couldn’t clamp your thighs shut due to his head, so you literally had to just take it. 

“So you are wet,” Ben chuckled. His thumb pushed through your folds, collecting more of your slick where you hovered over his mouth. He brought his thumb to his lips and you heard the wet sound of him sucking it clean. Then his hands were back around your hips and gripping your ass firmly. You jumped at the touch.

“Whine to somebody who cares,” he pulled your hips down and connected your bare cunt with his mouth.

You felt him exhale against your skin before his tongue licked across your folds in long strokes, lapping at your cunt like candy. He groaned loudly under you, the sound muffling straight through your core as his hands gripped your ass, pulling you down harder onto his face and digging your knees into the ground.

His tongue split your folds, dragging over your clit and up to your entrance. He prodded that spot before sucking on your clit with wet, obnoxious kisses. His jaw and chin worked eagerly, drinking in every bit of your arousal as it dripped onto his tongue. You dug your nails into his taut abdomen, feeling the muscles strain under your fingers as he held you in place, refusing to give you a moment to adjust.

His fingers kneaded and tugged at your ass, pulling your panties taut and snapping the waistband against your skin until your skin welted from the impacts. You tried to hit his stomach, gasping out, “Ben—chill out, you’re being too rough—”

He patted your ass in response, humming a pleased little sound that made you shiver. He dug his heels into the grass, his thighs straining.

You hung your head between your shoulders, panting in quick little inhales because you were so overwhelmed. It was hard to focus with all the sensations writhing through your head. You found your legs were beginning to shake under you, your muscles tensing to hold yourself steady.

You felt him breathing heavily against you, his tongue slurping and making those lewd, wet noises that made you groan and cringe.

“This is so nasty,” you panted, but that didn’t stop how good it felt.

Ben eventually let up, pulling your ass up just enough so he could talk, his thumb taking over and rubbing circles over your clit instead. He sounded amused.

“If it’s so nasty, then why are you grinding on me?”

You shook your head quickly. “I’m not—”

“Yeah you are,” he chided, and smacked your ass with his other hand.

You jerked at the sharp sting. Ben kissed the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so dirty,” he murmured, teasing the hide off of you. “Such a dirty girl.”

Then he pulled you back down onto his face. This time his tongue pushed up between your folds and pressed right against your entrance, lapping at it before pushing inside you.

You gasped sharply, your arms buckling as you fell forward onto your forearms on top of him, landing you with a face-full. Inside Ben’s already wet boxers, the frustratingly hot outline of his cock was clear and laid across his hip, jerking and pulsing in time with his movements under you.

You gasped again, trying to regulate your breathing as Ben began to tongue-fuck you properly. The wet muscle thrust in and out, pushing inside you while his thumb continued rubbing firm circles on your clit. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head. You couldn’t stop staring at the way his cock twitched in his boxers, the sight making your stomach tighten with heat.

You couldn’t help yourself. There was no room left for shame when you’d already gone this far.

You propped your weight on one arm, then reached down with the other, pressing your hand over the thick outline of his cock over his boxers. Ben’s hips jerked up at the contact, a muffled noise grumbling against your cunt before he pulled back just enough to huff a laugh.

“Ooh yeah… that’s much better.”

He ground up into your hand, and you wrapped your fingers around his clothed length, letting him thrust into your grip. You heard him grunt and groan as he went back to eating you, not even making you work for it, just fucking your hand with all the lack of embarrassment he hsd.

You watched with wide eyes, panting as you felt every wet brush of his tongue. Your mind started to wander, imagining what it would feel like if that cock was inside you instead. The thought made you whine, gritting out, “You’re so mean to me.”

Ben hummed a little “nuh uh” against your cunt.

“Yes you are,” you breathed, deciding that you’d rather grind fully against his mouth than pretend like you didn’t want it.

You pushed your hand under his boxers, his skin cool and damp underneath. Your fingers found the hard length of him and wrapped around it, gripping the middle and tightening your fingers until you heard the blond groan behind you. You felt so frustrated at how turned on you were, the words bubbling out before you could stop them,

“But it turns me on so bad, Ben. You’re so frustrating… but I just want you to make me cum.”

Ben’s grip on your ass tightened, nails digging into your skin as he growled against you.

“I can make you cum, girlie. As many times as you want. I’ll do anything for this pussy.”

You groaned, starting to stroke his cock slowly, feeling it throb in your hand. Ben jerked his hips up into your grip, but you helped him now, rubbing your thumb over the leaking head, spreading the slick precum as you pumped him.

You pulled back the waistband of his boxers, his cock springing out sending droplets of pre across his abdomen. It was long, the tip a dark, swollen red with thin veins running up the sides, curving just slightly toward his navel. You stared at it for a second, mesmerized, before pumping it slowly. You watched his tip disappear into your fist and reappear, glistening your thumb with precum.

You leaned down, and it was like Ben already knew what you were about to do. His hips bucked up excitedly toward your face, an eager sound rumbling from behind you.

You parted your lips, taking a shaky breath before sticking your tongue out. The first lick across his slit made Ben pull off your cunt with a loud, obnoxious moan, his chest heaving as you lapped at the bead of precum leaking from him.

“Fuck—” he cursed. He kissed your cunt again, taking shaky breaths like he was trying to pull his composure together.

You closed your eyes and sucked lightly on his tip, running the flat of your tongue along his slit until more precum dribbled out onto your tastebuds. The salty taste made you hum softly around him. You pushed your hips back against Ben’s face, silently urging him not to stop what he was doing.

He took the hint with earnest hunger. His tongues dove back in, his lips sucking against you so intently you think he must be thanking you. You took more of him into your mouth, sucking gently while your hand stroked what you couldn’t fit. 

Ben fucked up into your mouth the best you would let him. The angle was awkward, but you took as much of him as you could, wetting his cock before popping off to focus on the head. Your other hand slid up to press against his pelvis, your fingers tangling in the messy patch of pubic hair at the base of him.

You felt how he worked with you—how every time he pulled your body down, you took more of his cock when he’d buck up to yiu, your eyes pricking with tears as the head bumped against the roof of your mouth. Your tongue swept along the underside of him, trying your damnedest not to graze him with your teeth.

Ben slurred against you, his lips wet with your slick and smearing it between your thighs.

“Let me know if this is too much.”

You couldn’t question him with your mouth full, so you only realized what he meant when you felt that familiar static sensation bloom from his hands again. It started at your hips and spread inward, prickling your nerves, like electricity buzzing under your skin.

You squirmed, popping off his cock with a wet gasp as the feeling intensified. 

“Oou, shit…” you whined.

Then it grew louder when his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, sending a current through you. Your body lit up, nerves firing from one end to the other as you tensed at the overwhelming sensation. It felt like you were being run through with electricity, like your bones themselves were vibrating inside you. You thought your pussy might go numb from how intense it was.

You silenced your whines by sinking back down on his cock, bobbing your head up and down to distract yourself, to not become completely overwhelmed. It hardly worked. The static buzz mixed with the thick heat of him in your mouth and the relentless work of his tongue made your head spin.

You felt like you couldn’t grind your clit against his tongue hard enough, like Ben had just stuck his tongue out and let you use it desperately. Your hips rolled and bucked, chasing that perfect pressure as the pleasure built higher and higher.

“Mmhnn…”

You tried to stave it off, if only to hold back the embarrassment of cumming before him. You angled your head down, letting the head of his cock slide along your tongue toward the back of your throat instead of bumping the roof of your mouth. You scrunched your face, trying not to choke as Ben moaned loudly against you, his hips jerking up immediately to fuck deeper into your mouth now that you had given him access.

But you couldn’t hold it back. And it seemed like neither could he, because both of you were getting loud and moaning obnoxiously, your hips jerking and grinding against each other’s mouths in messy coherence. 

His lips circled your clit and sucked at the bud, practically making out with the bundle of nerves.

That was all you could stand.

You hit his hip, planting both hands onto each of his hips as you clamped your eyes shut, pushed your head down as far as you could, and took it, letting him fuck your face fully. Ben seemed to get the message, because he let go of your hips and grabbed your thighs instead, holding you open so you could grind your cunt against his face as hard as you wanted.

You both came at the same time.

Your orgasm hit like a firework, crackling through you as you moaned loudly around his cock, your thighs shaking violently over his shoulders. Ben groaned deeply into your cunt, the sound muffled and wet as he spilled into your mouth, thick ropes of cum coating your tongue. You swallowed what you could, the rest leaking from the corners of your lips as you sucked him through it, your hips still grinding weakly against his face while his tongue worked you through the aftershocks.

You popped off his cock, panting as you tried to steady your body. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and with the last bit of strength you had, you rolled off him and collapsed onto the grass beside him.

Ben blinked deliriously up at the sky, his chest rising and falling quickly as he caught his breath. He wiped his own mouth with the back of his hand, then glanced over at you. His red eyes flicked down at himself for a second, then back up to the stars.

“Nice.”

You cracked a smile, feeling far more relaxed than you had all night. The night had turned syrupy and warm around you, your high still humming pleasantly through your veins.

Ben reached his arm out, tugging at yours until you slid up next to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you comfortably. 

“Don’t get all sentimental now,” you teased.

He smiled, “Eat my ass.”

You hummed, tracing your finger lazily across his abdomen. “I get it now. Why people like being high so much. It makes everything feel so… unreal.”

Ben nodded. “You’re gonna really think that when I fuck you after I get you geeked.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at his chest. “Chill. I’m easy.”

Ben laughed at you. “Clearly.”

You swatted him again, a little harder than the last. He sat up after a moment, reaching for his discarded jeans near him and digging into the pocket. You sat up too, curious to watch as he pulled out a preroll and his lighter.

He grinned at you, holding the joint out. “We could try right now.”

You eyed him for a second, then nodded.

Ben placed the filter between your lips when you leaned in. He flicked the lighter and held the flame to the end. You inhaled slowly a couple of times to get it started before you got a good hit, holding it in your lungs for a moment before exhaling. But before the smoke could fully leave your mouth, Ben leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke you blew out.

The taste of weed and him mixed together on your tongue. He pulled back just enough to exhale the smoke between you, red eyes half-lidded and looking at your lips.

“First one to cum has to wash the other’s clothes when we get back.”

“Deal.”

Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

๑ prologue

๑ back to my masterlists

── .✦ rainrot4me2026, all rights reserved. ꩜ .ᐟ

[rainrot4me]

Seven Minutes in Heaven - BEN

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

──────────────────────────────────── lithium - nirvana

── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.

CONTAINS NSFW, MINORS DNI

✦ . Summary: (No correlation to other parts, only prologue) The bottle lands on Ben.

✦ . Characters: BEN x Female Reader

✦ . Warning: Alcohol, weed/cannabis, teasing, embarrasment, using a bong, ben is just a piece of shit but like kinda hot about it, spanking, altered states, high sex, forced proximity, perverted ben, degrading, cunnilingus, blowjobs, 69 position, outdoor sex, extremely dirty talk

✦ . Words: 9.2k

✦ . Note: This is my first time writing Ben in a while, and I just want to lay it out and say--no, this is not a 12-year-old. This is BEN, the floating elf thing who could obliterate your entire online presence and crawl through your screen and blah blah blah. He's basically if wireplay was a person. Otherwise, enjoy!

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As you watched this little bottle decide your fate, you couldn’t help but become distracted by the thought that this whole game was probably just a clever way for everyone to forget about cleaning up the mess they’d already made. 

And to drink more. You really should’ve gotten more alcohol in your system when you had the chance. At least then you might not care so much.

The bottle slowed, then teetered to a stop. On the other end, sat a very unconscious and unaware Ben.

He was slumped on the couch next to Jeff, his head tipped all the way back against the cushions, completely oblivious to the compromising position he had just ended up in. 

“Dude,” Jeff poked at him with the butt of the vodka bottle in his hand, knocking his legs to the side. When that didn’t work, Jeff rapped the bottle against Ben’s head hard enough to hear a thunk.

Ben jostled upright, rubbing at his temple as he glared at Jeff. “Fucking what?” He punctuated the -t sound at the end.

Then he noticed everyone staring at him, looking from face to face. His eyes dropped to the bottle on the table and confirmed exactly what he looked like he suspected. He looked up at you, blinking at you a couple of times as if he was processing it.

Then he dropped his head back onto the cushion, “Nah.”

You scoffed, a little wounded. “Nah?”

Ben didn’t even give you the courtesy of sitting up as he slung his arm around Jeff’s shoulders, tugging the dark-haired boy closer. He made exaggerated kissy noises against Jeff’s cheek, grinning as the other shoved at him.

“Nah. Cause if I wanted to get my dick wet, I’d know who to ask.”

Jeff barked out a laugh and shoved at Ben’s face, but he was grinning too. This spurred on some sort of wrestling match as Nina took the opportunity to steal Jeff’s vodka out of his hand, cringing as she watched them, “I don’t think they’re kidding, either.”

Ben eventually got shoved clean off the couch, landing on his back on the floor. He kicked at Jeff’s shins in retaliation, but Jeff was too busy realizing his vodka bottle had mysteriously disappeared, and somebody was taking drinks from it.

“Hey—who the fuck—” Jeff snatched it back from Nina, who was giggling behind her hand. Ben took back to closing his eyes and laying his head back on the floor, content to not acknowledge you as you glared at him.

Jeff lightly kicked at the side of Ben’s head next to his shoe as he took a swig of his vodka, then he made a ‘mmh’ noise like he’d realized something, before looking down at the blond. “Wonder if you could hotbox the closet.”

One second Ben was sprawled on the ground. In a blur, he was on his feet, snatching his translucent green bong off the coffee table with one hand and grabbing your arm with the other.

“Let’s go,” he pulled you up.

You squirmed, trying to dig your heels in. “Ben, wait—I didn’t even—”

But no one was paying attention. The group had already moved on, shuffling cards and arguing over who got to deal next while they waited for their turn. All you got as you looked back was a sly wave from Jeff. Ben tugged you down the hallway insistently. You opened your mouth to argue again when Nina’s voice rang out behind you.

“Turn on the music!”

Ben waved his hand without even looking back. The stereo in the living room suddenly blasted to life, the volume cranked way up and pumping through the floorboards. People shouted thanks as their conversations became drowned out.

Ben reached the closet door at the end of the hall and let go of your arm to open the door. You were met with the dark entrance and what appeared to be zero breathing room, and Ben pointed inside.

“Up and at ‘em. We don’t got all night.”

“Ben, you’re a serious ass, you know tha—” Your sentence is cut by Ben’s hand flying up into your face, his fingers positioned into a little sock puppet mouth pose as he mocked the words that came from your mouth sarcastically. 

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” he deadpanned.

You glared at him, crossing your arms, then turning to walk inside the closet without another word. He stepped in behind you, the two of you siding to opposite walls to face each other, but realizing just how little space there was when your shoes touched his. Ben kicked at you to move, but with all the boxes and hanging clothes around you, it was impossible not to be stepping on top of the other. When the door pulled shut, the darkness was really the cherry on top to the whole situation.

Save for the thin line of light leaking in from under the door, it was pitch black in here. The air grew warmer almost immediately as you stood in there, heavy with the dense, earthy smell of weed that always clung to the blond like a second skin.

You shifted your weight, “You gonna turn on the light?”

He didn’t answer.

You pushed, getting nervous, “Ben?”

A little chuckle came from the darkness right in front of you.

“Kinda moody in here, huh?”

You scoffed and kicked lightly at his shin. He laughed the tension from you and suddenly the bulb overhead flared on without anyone touching the chain. Soft yellow light flooded the dark space.

Ben was standing close. Closer than you expected him to be.

His blond hair was a complete mess of strands falling into his eyes and layers sticking up. The pointed tips of his ears poked out through the mess, flinching at nothing. His eyes stood out the most amongst his lightwashed palette. His black scleras encased these gleaming red irises, seemingly radiating amongst the inkly color. He was wearing an old graphic tee that had seen better days and a pair of baggy jeans held up by a chunky belt that seemed like it belonged on someone twice his size.

But what really held your attention were his tears.

They were always there as far as you knew, those dark streaks running down his pale cheeks. Up close, you could see how they slowly dissolved into the air right around his jawline, fading like they were dissolving. Fresh ones kept forming at the corners of his eyes, sliding down his skin before they too fizzled out into nothing and started again.

But for a boy who was always crying, you didn’t feel very bad, considering he always found a way to pester your sentimentality away.

“Take a picture or something.”

You snapped out of it, “What?”

“You’re staring.”

Ben began packing the bowl for the bong, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. You followed, awkwardly avoiding his limbs as you settled across from him and became packed in by the boxes and junk. He would randomly ask you to hold something—the bowl, the bong itself, a small bag of weed—but otherwise stayed quiet, focused on what he was doing. You took the opportunity to explore the boxes on the floor around you. Most of it was junk like old magazines, tangled string lights, and dusty clothes. But you dug deeper into one box and lit up.

“Oh my god, it’s a Game Boy!” you exclaimed, pulling the little purple device out triumphantly.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “That’s probably been in here for years. Bet it’s dead.”

You groaned, pressing the power button anyway. Nothing happened. “Of course.”

Ben held his hand out. You passed it over, thinking maybe he would chuck it away, but he pressed the power button and the screen flickered to life with it’s little electronic chime.

He handed it back with a smug little grin. “You’re welcome.”

You took it eagerly and immediately started playing Tetris, the familiar music crackling through the old speakers. Ben finished packing the bowl, fishing in his pockets for his lighter as he leaned forward to look over your screen.

“You’re gonna die,” he said flatly when you tried to force a line.

“Shut up, I’ve got this,” you pushed back, laughing when the blocks stacked up anyway.

Ben lit the bowl and took a couple of hits to get it started, holding his breath in before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. The sweet smell of weed quickly filled the air, mixing with the dust and old coats to give you a sensory overloaded experience.

He held it out to you. “Your turn, loser.”

You shook your head, too focused on the little screen. “I’m playing my game.”

You were so close to clearing the level, but just before passing, the blocks suddenly pixelated out of the border, and the whole board filled up instantly. GAME OVER popped across the screen as the power to the toy cut off.

You let out an exasperated groan and tossed the Game Boy back into the box it came from. “I don’t want any. I’ve never even used one of those anyway, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Ben scoffed from where he was sitting, going to light the bowl again. “Figures.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “What does that mean?”

He took a long hit, the water bubbling loudly as smoke filled the chamber. He held it for a second, then exhaled a thick cloud toward your face before shrugging, smoke filtering from his lips as he spoke.

“There’s no way you’ve made it this far in life and haven’t hit a bong. That’s such lame-ass behavior.”

You scoffed right back and kicked at his leg. “I’ll probably get a contact high just from being in here with you, asshole.”

Ben rolled his eyes and shoved the bong into your hands anyway. “Shut your yapping and listen to me.”

You stared at the glass piece like it might bite you. Ben leaned over and started rummaging through the junk around you. He pulled out a couple of old shirts and towels, then turned and started stuffing them tightly under the crack of the closet door, sealing it as best he could.

Ben was satisfied with his little setup. He turned back to face you and gripped the neck of the bong. He adjusted it in your hands, showing you how to hold it properly, then pressed the mouthpiece against your lips.

“Alright, listen,” he said, surprisingly non-sarcastically. “When I light it, you’re gonna inhale. It burns a little more than normal weed, so take it easy at first. Don’t try to be a hero or anything.”

You’d never seen Ben this attentive with something before. It made you laugh a little under your breath.

He immediately got defensive, shoving at your shoulder. “What? Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you smiled. “Alright. I’m ready.”

You pressed your lips to the rim. Ben sparked the lighter and held it to the bowl, angling the neck for you. The second smoke clouded the chamber, you inhaled.

It hit a lot harder than you realized it would.

The smoke burned with this heaviness that cigarettes don’t have. You tried to hold it like you’d seen others do, but your throat closed up fast and you got choked. You only managed a tiny breath before pulling back, coughing in fits as smoke sputtered out of your mouth in puffs. You pushed the bong away from your face, your eyes already watering.

Ben busted out laughing, falling back against the wall. “That was so shit.”

You swatted at him between coughs, “Shut up—it burns—”

“You have to go again. That barely counted.”

You waved him off, trying to catch your breath. “Give me a second. Jesus Christ…”

You had barely gotten any and your head was already swimmy. Your throat burned. You weren’t sure if this was supposed to be fun, but half the mansion seemed obsessed with getting high on the roof most nights. You wanted to understand why.

So you took the bong back from him.

Ben leaned back forward and sparked up the lighter again. “Take it slower this time. Don’t suck it like a vacuum, just take a deep breath.”

You pressed your lips to the mouthpiece again. Ben lit the bowl, and you inhaled a bit slower this time, trying to let the smoke fill your lungs without choking on it. It still burned, but you managed to hold it longer. When you finally pulled away, you coughed again, but not as violently. Smoke curled out of your mouth as you handed the bong back to Ben, coughing only in small gasps now.

He just grinned at you as he sat the bong next to him. “Atta girl.”

You leaned your head back against the wall and took a few deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as you stared to the ceiling. Dust mites floated in the space overhead, swimming in the light and the smoke that now floated through the space. You feel hazy, like everything has begun to feel pressurized and dazed, like you were looking at the world through a thick sheet of film. You hadn’t noticed it before, but the constant thump of the music from the living room vibrated up through the floorboards and into your legs, vibrating the rest of your body along with it.

You were jarred from your state by the feeling of something tugging at your shoe. You looked down to see Ben absently playing with the laces of your shoe, twisting them around his finger and playing with the strings.

He shoved your leg away when you began to giggle a bit.

“How do you feel?” he hummed.

“Weird.”

Ben nodded, “Yeah.” Then, after a beat, “Just wait until you start feeling the bugs under your skin.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He held the serious expression for half a second before cracking into a grin, “I’m kidding.”

You shivered anyway, but the laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. It felt ridiculous, the kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake even though nothing was really even that funny. Ben’s laugh mixed with yours until you were both giggling.

Ben suddenly sat up a little straighter, like a thought had just hit him. “Oh shit, wait— here, look at this.”

He leaned forward and dug into his back pocket, pulling out his very cracked phone. The screen was covered in tiny fractures, but it still lit up when he tapped it. You watched curiously as he swiped through a few things, then clicked on a video and turned the phone toward you, placing it carefully in your hands.

You immediately narrowed your eyes. “If you’re about to show me porn, I’ll kill you.”

Ben just laughed and put his hand on top of your head, angling your face down toward the screen. “Shhh. Just watch.”

It was one of those weird trippy videos that had a colorful illusion flowing across the screen, everything really vibrant and clear in an uncanny way. At first you laughed, saying, “These are so stupid,” but the longer you stared, the harder it became to look away. It felt strange… like the swirling shapes and shifting grids held all of your attention.

Ben smiled, clearly satisfied. “Yeah, I know that’s right.”

He went back to absently playing with the laces of your shoe, twisting and untwisting them as you watched his phone.

Without you even touching the screen, the video started scrolling on its own, showcasing new patterns and swirling colors fading in every few seconds. You watched, mesmerized, as the shapes twisted and folded into themselves before scrolling to another video.

You didn’t look up from the phone when you said, “It’s so stupid that you can just do that.”

Ben sighed, “Perks of being me, y'know."

You laughed when the videos scrolled onto Minecraft parkour runs instead.

“It must be so easy,” you mumbled, “just turning on and using whatever you want without using your hands.”

Ben hummed in agreement, clearly amused at your interest in him. You couldn’t help but blurt out, “And getting blackmail on everyone.”

He laughed outright at that. He let his arm rest across your shins, “You have no idea.”

The screen changed again. This time it wasn’t a video—it was his photos. The image that popped up was of a skinny little pale boy with messy brown hair, missing a couple teeth, and grinning bigtime for a school photo. It just looked to be a ratty little kid.

You stared, trying to place him. “Who is that?”

Ben smiled, “Jeff.”

You looked back down at the photo, then up at Ben again. A surprised laugh barked out of you before you could stop it.

“No way,” you grinned. “That’s Jeff? He looks so… little.”

“His mugshots aren’t much better either.”

Ben reaches for his phone and pockets it before reaching down for the bong again. He lit it, took a hit, and passed it over to you like before.

You managed it on your own this time, though Ben still held the lighter for you, how courteous. Smoke plumed out and joined the cloud overhead. You wondered how long you’d actually been in here? Two minutes? Two hours? Time felt slippery now, hard to pin down. But you were starting to understand the appeal. Everything felt softer, a lot slower.

You passed the bong back and asked, “What do you even do when you’re high?”

Ben thought about it for a second, his hand falling back to rest on your shins and rubbing absently along your pant leg. He clearly didn’t think about it too hard, though.

“Jerk off,” he said plainly.

Your face heated at your cheeks. You rolled your eyes and kicked at him. “Be serious.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “I’m not lying. Nothing feels better than getting high as fuck and jerking your shit. Lol.” He said “lol” part out loud at the end, which made you cringe so hard you thought you might die.

Then he gave you a real answer, “Eat. Play Siege. Go for walks…” 

At that, he seemed to think of something, then patted your leg eagerly. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

You looked at him before glancing toward the door. “But… we’re playing the game.”

Ben waved that off. “Nah. I got lumped into this. I’m not even really playing, I just did it cause it was you.”

You tensed a little. “Where? Won’t the others get worried?”

He was already starting to stand, pushing his messy blond hair out of his face as he picked up the bong too. “Just come on.”

You pushed yourself up to stand with him, surprised by how airy your body felt, like your limbs were a little lighter than usual, a gentle swimmy sensation rolling through you as you rose into the thick cloud of smoke that was previously hovering over your head. 

Ben gripped the door handle, cracking it open just a sliver to peek into the hallway first. Then he reached back, his hand sliding snugly around yours as he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the smoke poured out, drifting lazily down the hall out ahead of you. The cool air from the hallway hit your skin and you sighed, relieved by the fresh rush against your flushed cheeks. Ben kept a hold on your hand, guiding you through the halls and around corners, dodging a couple lingering around in empty rooms as he dropped his bong on the hallway table and pushed out the back.

You eventually pushed through the back door and stepped out onto the deck. The night air was crisp and clean, a welcome contrast to the smoky warmth of the house. You climbed down the stairs after him, stepping out into the yard.

“Where are we going?” you asked again.

Ben glanced back at you. “Somewhere nicer.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you just absently held his hand as he pulled you across the backyard toward the treeline. The grass was cool and damp under your shoes. He led you down a narrow path you didn’t recognize, the trees closing in around you until the lights and noise of the mansion faded into the distance behind you, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere far off.

You glanced over at him. Ben’s dark eyes were half-lidded now as he walked the path, he looked sleepy, and it made you giggle.

Ben glared at you playfully. “Hush.”

“Your eyes look funny,” you smiled.

He grinned down at you lazily, “Yours look pretty funny too. Geeked as hell.”

As you kept walking, the moonlight grew more and more filtered by the canopy overhead until the darkness felt more dense than back at the house. In the little moonlight, Ben’s red irises seemed to glow against the black of his pupils, like two small embers smoldering in the night. You found yourself getting lost in them, staring a little too long, until your foot caught on a root and you stumbled forward.

Ben’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you upright before you could fall.

“Careful,” he teased, “don’t fall on your ass.”

You shoved at his shoulder. “Worry about your own ass.”

Then he slowed to a stop. “We’re here.”

You looked forward and felt your breath leave you.

The trees opened up into a small quarry, the ground dropping into a clear swimming hole. Moonlight spilled across the water’s surface, sparkling like scattered diamonds as it rippled and sloshed against the bank. The whole place felt like a dream, the air carrying the scent of pine and wet river stones.

“Wow…” you whispered, stepping out from the treeline and onto the rocky bank. The view was beautiful, peaceful in a way the rest of tonight wasn’t.

“Not bad, right?”

You tilted your head to him. “How did you even find this place?”

“Followed EJ out here one night ‘cause I was bored. He comes out here sometimes really late. I liked it, so now I sneak out when everyone’s being annoying.”

You smiled at him, unable to resist teasing him. “Wow. He does feel.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

You turned back toward the water, letting the cool night air wash over your skin. It felt good after the density in the mansion. The soft lap of the water was enough to drown everything else out.

Before you heard shuffling behind you. 

You felt as Ben walked up behind you, his presence radiating. He was close. You froze as you felt his arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you gently back against his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his warm breath brushing your neck and sending goosebumps lining your skin.

“Ben?” you sounded as confused as you felt.

He hummed softly, “It’s nice tonight.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You stood there stiffly, staring out at the water, half-convinced this was some kind of sick joke. But your cheeks burned so bad you might’ve hoped it wasn’t.

“The water sure is pretty, huh?” he murmured.

You nodded, still trying to figure out what was happening.

“Wanna get a closer look?”

Then, you felt his hands slide from around your waist, and a hard shove on your back.

You stumbled forward with a startled yelp, your arms windmilling out in front of you as you lost your balance. The bank dropped off sharply, and you plunged into the cold water below with a loud splash. It was only waist-deep, but the cold shock still knocked the breath out of you. You came up sputtering, your hair plastered to your face and your clothes hanging wetly off your body.

You whipped around, coughing and gawking up at the bank.

Ben stood there wide-eyed and bushy tailed.

“You—you asshole!” you choked out, wiping water from your eyes.

“You should see your face right now.”

Ben dug into his pocket, pulled out his cracked phone, and snapped a quick photo of you standing there dripping wet. The flash lit up the quarry for a split second, as well as your irritated face.

He just tossed his phone onto the grass and reached back to tug his shirt over his head. Your mouth went a little dry at the sight of his lean, pale torso standing against the moonlight, the subtle lines of muscle shifting as he moved. He unclasped his belt and slid it from loops, then shoved his jeans and shoes off, leaving him in just his green boxers—which made you scoff. Without another word, he took a running start off the bank and dove into the deeper water.

The splash sprayed onto you. You braced your arms up, but still got soaked all over again. When the water settled, Ben popped back up, shaking his head like a dog. His blond hair was dark and flat against his skull for a second before he ran both hands through it, messing it back up into a dripping frizz.

You waded towards the dock. “You’re insane.”

Ben sighed dramatically, already treading out toward the deeper part of the swimming hole. “Relax. It’s just water.”

You climbed back up onto the bank, irritated but also weirdly energized by the need to pester the blond back. You kicked off your sopping shoes. Two could play this game.

You started peeling off your wet jeans, the denim clinging stubbornly to your legs before you finally yanked them off. Then you grabbed the hem of your soaked shirt and pulled it up and over your head, tossing both garments onto the grass with a wet plop. You were left in just your bra and panties, the night air raising goosebumps across your skin.

Ben had gone quiet.

You glanced over as you stepped back toward the water. He was watching you the entire time. His face had disappeared under the surface, only his eyes floating above the surface as he watched you move into the shallows, staring at you like he was trying to commit the sight to memory.

You waded out toward the deeper part, the cold water rising up your thighs, then your waist. The stones and moss felt slick under your feet. Your high made all the textures and temperature of the water elevated, all your senses alight with different sensations and feelings that couldn’t be described as anything other than good.

When you finally waded out to where he was, your feet barely touched the bottom, forcing you to tread water to stay afloat. Ben didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you approach. When you got close enough, he rose a little higher out of the water, blinking at you with those pretty glowing red eyes.

His gaze shot down to your chest for half a second before snapping back up to your face. The moonlight shone softly over both of you, catching in the droplets on your skin and making everything look a little unreal, a little dreamlike.

You tilted your head, smiling a little. “What’s the matter?”

Ben huffed, looking away toward the trees. “You’re a tease.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. You reached out, letting your fingers trace lightly down his chest, smearing the water across his pale skin. His muscles twitched under your touch like it shocked him. Ben stayed quiet, but you could see the way his jaw tightened.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, you splashed the biggest wave of water you could right into his face.

Ben sputtered, wiping at his eyes as you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach so hard you almost went under.

“You were so shy!” you teased. “Look at you—”

He didn’t even let you finish. Ben splashed a wave right back at you, drenching your face and hair. You squealed, laughing harder as the cold water hit you, and the fight was on.

The two of you went back and forth, splashing and dodging like kids, the quarry echoing with your laughter and his playful curses. Every time you thought you had the upper hand, Ben would lunge forward and send a huge splash your way, grinning like an idiot the whole time. Water flew everywhere, catching the moonlight in bright arcs as you both tried to outdo the other.

At one point you tried to swim away, but Ben caught your ankle and yanked you back, pulling you toward him until you were both laughing too hard to keep splashing at the other properly. You ended up pushing at his shoulders while he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from escaping.

“You started it,” he accused.

“You deserved it,” you shot back.

You registered where Ben’s hands were the moment they gripped your hips under the water, his palms warm against your skin as you tried to stabilize yourself in the deeper part. Ben noticed your struggle and pulled you closer to him.

“Wrap your legs around my hips,” he mumbled.

Your heart hammered as you did what he asked, hooking your legs around him. Ben’s hands slid down to support your thighs, holding you up effortlessly in the water. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for balance, feeling the cool water lapping up around your bodies as you floated together.

“This is kinda hot,” the blond said, completely shameless.

You swatted at his shoulder. “You’re such a pervert.”

Ben shrugged. “It’s hard not to be when you’re around.”

You noticed then how the water mixed with the dark tears that always ran down his cheeks. They smeared into wet gray streaks across his pale skin. Without thinking, you reached up and wiped at them with your thumb, cleaning the streaks away before new dark tears reappeared.

Ben blinked at you, surprised, but made no move to say anything about it. His hands started roaming, sliding over your legs and hips, then slipping back toward your ass. You pinched his shoulder.

“Careful,” you warned, though your tone was soft.

Ben groaned at you, his fingers hooking into the hem of your panties at your waist and giving them a little tug.

“This isn’t fair,” he complained, knotting his brow.

You hummed. “Life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, but you could be to me, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what have you done to deserve my fairness?”

You traced a finger along his jaw as you said it. Ben’s expression shifted into a pout, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before back up to your eyes.

“I’ll be nice,” he sounded almost sweetly.

You gawked at him, exasperated at that answer. “So you’ll only be nice when you want something? That’s what I'm hearing?”

Ben tugged you closer by the waist, bodies brushing under the water.

“Yeah,” he admitted, before pinching your hip in return. “But I know you like it when I’m mean.”

You saw his angle, watching as his eyes dipped down and he tried to lean in closer toward your lips.

You cut him off by pressing your hand over his mouth. Then you untangled your legs from around his hips, pushing away with a laugh. Ben let you go, but not without complaining. “Awh, c’mon. You know you want me.”

You waded toward the shallow bank, glancing over your shoulder at him with a grin. Once the water was only knee-deep, you stepped out onto the grass, the cool air chilling your wet skin. Your clothes were soaked through where you had dropped them, so you laid them out flat on the grass to dry.

Behind you, you heard Ben leaving the water too. Then came a low whistle.

You turned to see him staring shamelessly at your ass while you were bent over arranging your clothes. You straightened up and flipped him off, before treading over to a dry patch of grass and sitting down.

Ben followed, dropping down beside you. You both lay back, looking up at the moon and the scattered stars, letting the breeze slowly dry your skin. 

You broke the comfortable silence first.

“I guess we’ll have to wait until my clothes dry before we go back.”

Ben shifted beside you, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. A few droplets of water fell from his messy blond hair onto your shoulder. 

“I know a way we could pass the time.”

You shoved at his face, pushing him back down to the grass with a laugh. “You’re relentless.”

He chuckled but didn’t push it, settling back beside you again.

You stared up at the sky, your mind still a little swimmy and dense from the weed earlier. Your high had settled into a pleasant wave that made everything feel softer around the edges. You reached down and plucked at a few blades of grass, rolling them between your fingers.

The question slipped out before you could stop it.

“Why do you smoke so much?”

Ben was quiet for a long moment. You could hear the rustle of grass as he shifted beside you.

“I like the way it makes me feel,” he said eventually. “Like… it makes me feel real. Like not just a bunch of code crammed into a body. I guess.”

You turned your head to look at him. He was still staring up at the stars, red eyes reflecting the moonlight above. For once, you didn’t think he looked all that bratty.

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just stayed silent, the two of you lying side by side under the night sky.

Until you felt a hand trace lightly along your waist, fingertips brushing your bare skin. You shivered a bit at the contact. You leaned up on your elbows, glaring at him. “Ben—”

“And it feels extra good when I do this when I’m high,” he gleamed.

You opened your mouth to question him, but you felt what he was talking about soon after.

It started prickly, like when your hand goes numb after sitting on it too long. Then it shifted into something else—a sort of staticky buzz, like the old TV static you used to get when you put your face too close to the screen, but a margin more intense. It followed wherever his fingers moved, crackling warmly across your skin.

“What is that?” You gasped.

“Dunno. Energy? I think? It just feels awesome when I’m jerking off.”

You watched, wide-eyed, as Ben’s hand rubbed slowly over your abdomen, then your waist, then down to your hips. The static sensation made your muscles twitch, a soft whine slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Feels nice, right?” he asked.

“It feels weird,” you managed, voice a little too breathy for your liking.

But he didn’t stop. His hand continued its path down your thighs, then back up to your ribs. Your breath caught sharply when his fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot just under your chest, and Ben’s smile widened as he watched your face.

“Shut it,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks burning.

“Careful,” he teased, “or I might think you like it.”

His hand kept moving, inching ever so slowly toward the hem of your panties. His voice dropped quieter, almost to a murmur.

“Do you like it?”

It was hard to think straight with all the sensations buzzing across your skin, but you nodded, fingers gripping the blades of grass beneath you.

Ben’s hand inched further down. “What if I keep going?”

You finally looked at him, blinking up at his face as he leaned closer over you. You were so annoyed by him it was ridiculous—that lazy grin, those ember eyes, the way he always seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons. But maybe it was the weed, or the buzz in the air, or just how purely horny you were in this moment, because you nodded again.

Ben finally leaned in, tilting his head down to press his lips to yours. At the same time, his fingers pressed against you over your panties. Your legs immediately tried to snap shut, but he was already between them. You gasped into the kiss, one hand gripping his arm tightly while the other tangled in his messy blond hair.

He kissed you deeply, wet tongue sliding against yours as his fingers began to rub little circles over your folds through the damp fabric. The static sensation from his touch lit up your nerves like fireworks, making your hips twitch up into his hand. He ground his palm against your cunt, drawing a muffled moan from you.

Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing a little heavier.

“You’re so wet,” he teased, pecking your lips.

You let out an exhausted laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “It’s just ‘cause I wore them in the water.”

Ben shushed you, trying to hide his smile against your lips. “Don’t ruin this for me, yeah?”

You smiled against his mouth, nodding as he kissed you once more. His fingers kept up that rhythm, rubbing and pressing through your panties until you were squirming under him, your hips rolling up frequently to meet his touch.

Ben chuckled as you whined under him. “You’re so noisy,” he murmured, nipping at your cheek. “Pipe down before someone hears you.”

You cursed under your breath. “Then stop teasing me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyebrows raised in mock exasperation. “Teasing? Girlie, this is not teasing. This is—”

He let his hand slip away from you completely, leaving you aching and frustrated. Then, with a wicked little grin, he hovered just one finger above your clit. Tiny pulses of static electricity danced from his fingertip, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves without any real pressure. 

“Cut it out,” you whined.

Ben tilted his head. “Then you need to talk nicer to me.”

You huffed, feeling embarrassed, but the ache between your legs won out. “Please…”

He hummed, pretending to think it over. “I don’t listen to babies. I listen to big girls who know how to use their words.”

Your face flushed hot. For a second you wondered if you were dreaming—this couldn’t be real life, not with Ben saying something so lewd.

“Are you gonna be a big girl?”

He finally pressed his finger firmly against your clit firmly, causing you to sputter out, “Will you… finger me please?”

Ben hummed again, “Nah.”

You groaned in frustration. “You’re doing this again? Nah??”

He patted your cunt before pulling his hand away and rolling onto his back beside you, tucking his hands behind his head like he was settling in for a nap. You lay there, hot and bothered and honestly a little angry, staring up at the stars while Ben looked far too pleased with himself.

“Ben…” You whined.

He just unrepentantly closed his eyes, the picture of relaxation. “I wish I had some food right now. I’m starving.”

You scoffed, sitting up and looking down at him. “Benjamin.”

Ben finally cracked an eyelid open, eyeing you. “I know a snack I could have.”

You hit his chest, but he caught your hand and tugged you down toward him. He pecked your lips as he spoke, “Will you ride my face?”

You pulled back and covered your face with both hands, mortified. “Fuck off.”

Ben tsked, clearly enjoying the reactions he was getting out of you. “Nah. I know you’re into that freaky shit. I’ve seen your browser history.”

You glared at him, but the flush on your face only got worse. His fingers traced your hips again, hooking into the waistband of your panties and tugging at them playfully.

He lay back fully, pulling at your hands until you were kneeling next to him. “Come on, girlie. Don’t be shy.”

You told him to quit, but your body was already moving. You turned away from him so your back faced his head, and slowly swung one leg over. Ben got excited immediately, his hands guiding your thigh as you straddled his face, kneeling on your knees. You placed your hands on his abdomen, bracing your weight against him as his fingers gripped and prodded at your hips, pulling you down.

“I don’t want any of that hovering shit either.” Ben sounded overly eager. “Sit dooown.”

Ben tugged your hips roughly. You gasped when you felt his lips press against you over the fabric of your panties, his breath creating damp spots against the soaked material. You felt your lips falling open as he kissed repeatedly over your clit.

“Been waiting for this,” he muttered, groaning against your cunt.

He reached up and tugged the lining of your panties aside. The air hit your bare skin and made you shiver, nervousness making the hair on your arms stand up. Then you felt his finger press against your folds, smearing your wetness up to your clit and watching how slick collected on his thumb. You couldn’t clamp your thighs shut due to his head, so you literally had to just take it. 

“So you are wet,” Ben chuckled. His thumb pushed through your folds, collecting more of your slick where you hovered over his mouth. He brought his thumb to his lips and you heard the wet sound of him sucking it clean. Then his hands were back around your hips and gripping your ass firmly. You jumped at the touch.

“Whine to somebody who cares,” he pulled your hips down and connected your bare cunt with his mouth.

You felt him exhale against your skin before his tongue licked across your folds in long strokes, lapping at your cunt like candy. He groaned loudly under you, the sound muffling straight through your core as his hands gripped your ass, pulling you down harder onto his face and digging your knees into the ground.

His tongue split your folds, dragging over your clit and up to your entrance. He prodded that spot before sucking on your clit with wet, obnoxious kisses. His jaw and chin worked eagerly, drinking in every bit of your arousal as it dripped onto his tongue. You dug your nails into his taut abdomen, feeling the muscles strain under your fingers as he held you in place, refusing to give you a moment to adjust.

His fingers kneaded and tugged at your ass, pulling your panties taut and snapping the waistband against your skin until your skin welted from the impacts. You tried to hit his stomach, gasping out, “Ben—chill out, you’re being too rough—”

He patted your ass in response, humming a pleased little sound that made you shiver. He dug his heels into the grass, his thighs straining.

You hung your head between your shoulders, panting in quick little inhales because you were so overwhelmed. It was hard to focus with all the sensations writhing through your head. You found your legs were beginning to shake under you, your muscles tensing to hold yourself steady.

You felt him breathing heavily against you, his tongue slurping and making those lewd, wet noises that made you groan and cringe.

“This is so nasty,” you panted, but that didn’t stop how good it felt.

Ben eventually let up, pulling your ass up just enough so he could talk, his thumb taking over and rubbing circles over your clit instead. He sounded amused.

“If it’s so nasty, then why are you grinding on me?”

You shook your head quickly. “I’m not—”

“Yeah you are,” he chided, and smacked your ass with his other hand.

You jerked at the sharp sting. Ben kissed the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so dirty,” he murmured, teasing the hide off of you. “Such a dirty girl.”

Then he pulled you back down onto his face. This time his tongue pushed up between your folds and pressed right against your entrance, lapping at it before pushing inside you.

You gasped sharply, your arms buckling as you fell forward onto your forearms on top of him, landing you with a face-full. Inside Ben’s already wet boxers, the frustratingly hot outline of his cock was clear and laid across his hip, jerking and pulsing in time with his movements under you.

You gasped again, trying to regulate your breathing as Ben began to tongue-fuck you properly. The wet muscle thrust in and out, pushing inside you while his thumb continued rubbing firm circles on your clit. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head. You couldn’t stop staring at the way his cock twitched in his boxers, the sight making your stomach tighten with heat.

You couldn’t help yourself. There was no room left for shame when you’d already gone this far.

You propped your weight on one arm, then reached down with the other, pressing your hand over the thick outline of his cock over his boxers. Ben’s hips jerked up at the contact, a muffled noise grumbling against your cunt before he pulled back just enough to huff a laugh.

“Ooh yeah… that’s much better.”

He ground up into your hand, and you wrapped your fingers around his clothed length, letting him thrust into your grip. You heard him grunt and groan as he went back to eating you, not even making you work for it, just fucking your hand with all the lack of embarrassment he hsd.

You watched with wide eyes, panting as you felt every wet brush of his tongue. Your mind started to wander, imagining what it would feel like if that cock was inside you instead. The thought made you whine, gritting out, “You’re so mean to me.”

Ben hummed a little “nuh uh” against your cunt.

“Yes you are,” you breathed, deciding that you’d rather grind fully against his mouth than pretend like you didn’t want it.

You pushed your hand under his boxers, his skin cool and damp underneath. Your fingers found the hard length of him and wrapped around it, gripping the middle and tightening your fingers until you heard the blond groan behind you. You felt so frustrated at how turned on you were, the words bubbling out before you could stop them,

“But it turns me on so bad, Ben. You’re so frustrating… but I just want you to make me cum.”

Ben’s grip on your ass tightened, nails digging into your skin as he growled against you.

“I can make you cum, girlie. As many times as you want. I’ll do anything for this pussy.”

You groaned, starting to stroke his cock slowly, feeling it throb in your hand. Ben jerked his hips up into your grip, but you helped him now, rubbing your thumb over the leaking head, spreading the slick precum as you pumped him.

You pulled back the waistband of his boxers, his cock springing out sending droplets of pre across his abdomen. It was long, the tip a dark, swollen red with thin veins running up the sides, curving just slightly toward his navel. You stared at it for a second, mesmerized, before pumping it slowly. You watched his tip disappear into your fist and reappear, glistening your thumb with precum.

You leaned down, and it was like Ben already knew what you were about to do. His hips bucked up excitedly toward your face, an eager sound rumbling from behind you.

You parted your lips, taking a shaky breath before sticking your tongue out. The first lick across his slit made Ben pull off your cunt with a loud, obnoxious moan, his chest heaving as you lapped at the bead of precum leaking from him.

“Fuck—” he cursed. He kissed your cunt again, taking shaky breaths like he was trying to pull his composure together.

You closed your eyes and sucked lightly on his tip, running the flat of your tongue along his slit until more precum dribbled out onto your tastebuds. The salty taste made you hum softly around him. You pushed your hips back against Ben’s face, silently urging him not to stop what he was doing.

He took the hint with earnest hunger. His tongues dove back in, his lips sucking against you so intently you think he must be thanking you. You took more of him into your mouth, sucking gently while your hand stroked what you couldn’t fit. 

Ben fucked up into your mouth the best you would let him. The angle was awkward, but you took as much of him as you could, wetting his cock before popping off to focus on the head. Your other hand slid up to press against his pelvis, your fingers tangling in the messy patch of pubic hair at the base of him.

You felt how he worked with you—how every time he pulled your body down, you took more of his cock when he’d buck up to yiu, your eyes pricking with tears as the head bumped against the roof of your mouth. Your tongue swept along the underside of him, trying your damnedest not to graze him with your teeth.

Ben slurred against you, his lips wet with your slick and smearing it between your thighs.

“Let me know if this is too much.”

You couldn’t question him with your mouth full, so you only realized what he meant when you felt that familiar static sensation bloom from his hands again. It started at your hips and spread inward, prickling your nerves, like electricity buzzing under your skin.

You squirmed, popping off his cock with a wet gasp as the feeling intensified. 

“Oou, shit…” you whined.

Then it grew louder when his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, sending a current through you. Your body lit up, nerves firing from one end to the other as you tensed at the overwhelming sensation. It felt like you were being run through with electricity, like your bones themselves were vibrating inside you. You thought your pussy might go numb from how intense it was.

You silenced your whines by sinking back down on his cock, bobbing your head up and down to distract yourself, to not become completely overwhelmed. It hardly worked. The static buzz mixed with the thick heat of him in your mouth and the relentless work of his tongue made your head spin.

You felt like you couldn’t grind your clit against his tongue hard enough, like Ben had just stuck his tongue out and let you use it desperately. Your hips rolled and bucked, chasing that perfect pressure as the pleasure built higher and higher.

“Mmhnn…”

You tried to stave it off, if only to hold back the embarrassment of cumming before him. You angled your head down, letting the head of his cock slide along your tongue toward the back of your throat instead of bumping the roof of your mouth. You scrunched your face, trying not to choke as Ben moaned loudly against you, his hips jerking up immediately to fuck deeper into your mouth now that you had given him access.

But you couldn’t hold it back. And it seemed like neither could he, because both of you were getting loud and moaning obnoxiously, your hips jerking and grinding against each other’s mouths in messy coherence. 

His lips circled your clit and sucked at the bud, practically making out with the bundle of nerves.

That was all you could stand.

You hit his hip, planting both hands onto each of his hips as you clamped your eyes shut, pushed your head down as far as you could, and took it, letting him fuck your face fully. Ben seemed to get the message, because he let go of your hips and grabbed your thighs instead, holding you open so you could grind your cunt against his face as hard as you wanted.

You both came at the same time.

Your orgasm hit like a firework, crackling through you as you moaned loudly around his cock, your thighs shaking violently over his shoulders. Ben groaned deeply into your cunt, the sound muffled and wet as he spilled into your mouth, thick ropes of cum coating your tongue. You swallowed what you could, the rest leaking from the corners of your lips as you sucked him through it, your hips still grinding weakly against his face while his tongue worked you through the aftershocks.

You popped off his cock, panting as you tried to steady your body. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and with the last bit of strength you had, you rolled off him and collapsed onto the grass beside him.

Ben blinked deliriously up at the sky, his chest rising and falling quickly as he caught his breath. He wiped his own mouth with the back of his hand, then glanced over at you. His red eyes flicked down at himself for a second, then back up to the stars.

“Nice.”

You cracked a smile, feeling far more relaxed than you had all night. The night had turned syrupy and warm around you, your high still humming pleasantly through your veins.

Ben reached his arm out, tugging at yours until you slid up next to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you comfortably. 

“Don’t get all sentimental now,” you teased.

He smiled, “Eat my ass.”

You hummed, tracing your finger lazily across his abdomen. “I get it now. Why people like being high so much. It makes everything feel so… unreal.”

Ben nodded. “You’re gonna really think that when I fuck you after I get you geeked.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at his chest. “Chill. I’m easy.”

Ben laughed at you. “Clearly.”

You swatted him again, a little harder than the last. He sat up after a moment, reaching for his discarded jeans near him and digging into the pocket. You sat up too, curious to watch as he pulled out a preroll and his lighter.

He grinned at you, holding the joint out. “We could try right now.”

You eyed him for a second, then nodded.

Ben placed the filter between your lips when you leaned in. He flicked the lighter and held the flame to the end. You inhaled slowly a couple of times to get it started before you got a good hit, holding it in your lungs for a moment before exhaling. But before the smoke could fully leave your mouth, Ben leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke you blew out.

The taste of weed and him mixed together on your tongue. He pulled back just enough to exhale the smoke between you, red eyes half-lidded and looking at your lips.

“First one to cum has to wash the other’s clothes when we get back.”

“Deal.”

Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

๑ prologue

๑ back to my masterlists

── .✦ rainrot4me2026, all rights reserved. ꩜ .ᐟ

[s1e1lar]

Buffering... | Ben Drowned x streamer!reader

cw: fem reader, sexual content, desperate ben, vibes are used

wc: 1821

a/n: MEOWWWWWW. #needdat. also posting from my computer for the first time so we'll see how this goes

The first time Ben had complimented you, everyone in chat assumed it was pure irony.

B3N_DROWNED: god i would let u yell at me for misplaying that boss. respectfully of course.

Your mods immediately were texting back and forth in the private chat.

 “He’s back.”

 “was he evr gone LMFAO”

You glanced at the two rapidly moving chats between loading screens and couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Hi Ben.” There he was again, same monochrome profile picture, same username, same little skull emoji tacked onto every message. You’d recognize him anywhere.

“…As long as it’s respectful,” you said, pointing dramatically at the pinned stream rules. Rule #1: Don’t be weird. Rule #2: Don't be overtly sexual. Rule #3: Listen to the mods.

Ben’s reply was instant.

B3N_DROWNED: understood queen

A moderator timed him out for thirty seconds. It became a ritual. Every single stream, without fail. Horror games? Ben appeared. Cozy farming sims? Ben appeared. Even that one random 2009 visual novel you dug up at 2 a.m.—he was there before the title screen finished loading. Chat joked that he had notifications hardwired into his bloodstream. You started joking about it too.

“Ben’s probably already here.”

The chat exploded. 

HE IS. LOOK.

 HE’S LITERALLY FIRST BRO

Sure enough, his message popped up.

B3N_DROWNED: hi babe:) 

He never technically crossed the hard lines. His comments were always suggestive enough to make your mods twitch, but phrased as jokes. He backed off the second you gave him that particular look through the camera. Still, the timeouts piled up. He wore every single one like a badge of honor.

B3N_DROWNED: if u were a ghost would u still stream?

“Ben.”

B3N_DROWNED: hypothetical

“Timeout for being creepy.”

He accepted it cheerfully. When he returned: B3N_DROWNED: i deserved that. worth it.

Months slipped by, and you started expecting him. If five minutes passed without his familiar username, you’d catch yourself asking chat, “Has anyone seen Ben?” The community lost their minds every time. When he finally appeared—late, claiming “ traffic”—you rolled your eyes but felt an odd little flicker of relief.

He stream-sniped with terrifying precision. No matter how many thousands queued for a match, his character would appear, crouch twice, spin in circles, and type ‘hi :)’ in game chat. Your friends groaned. You called him terrifying. His avatar just waved innocently.

It wasn't a coincidence. Ben had studied every tiny habit: how long you lingered in menus, the average amount of time you took to refill your water, the way you answered donations before requeuing. He watched every VOD, every clip. Routines made you feel knowable. Close. He never admitted it, not even to himself.

Discord friend requests from viewers were an ironclad no. Until one Tuesday night at 11:48 PM, after a long editing session, his request appeared. Your cursor hovered. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. But your finger moved on its own and clicked Accept.

In his own room Ben nearly dropped his phone. “She accepted…”

The first messages were awkward, halting. Then conversations stretched longer—twenty minutes at first, then hours. Voice chat came next. Late-night calls after streams became routine. His voice was quieter than you expected, dry and self-deprecating, laced with that same obsessive attention to detail. He remembered the offhand comment you made six months ago about your cat’s surgery. The indie band you mentioned once. The way you hated certain textures. Everything.

You talked about terrible horror games and old creepypastas until 3 a.m. He listened more than he spoke. Every time you laughed, his room felt a little less empty. Beneath the gremlin energy and flirty jokes, Ben was patient. Static behind a monitor. Always waiting.

The weeks blurred together after that first Discord acceptance. What began as careful, late-night typing sessions evolved into voice calls that stretched until the sky lightened outside your window. Ben’s voice became something you looked forward to more than you wanted to admit. He never pushed. He waited for you to set the pace, content to listen while you ranted about bad game design or the latest streamer drama.

But the tension was there, simmering beneath every “goodnight, babe” and every lingering pause. His compliments grew softer, more genuine. Your responses stopped being purely playful deflections.

One night, after a particularly grueling horror stream where chat had been relentless, you switched to a private call. The topic drifted, as it sometimes did, into teasing territory.

“You really would let me yell at you, huh?” you asked, half-joking.

Ben’s laugh was quiet, almost shy. “I’d probably thank you after.”

The silence that followed felt extra charged. You shifted on your bed, cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah… but you keep letting me stay on the call anyway.”

That was the first night things crossed the line. The flirting turned explicit—slow, hesitant at first, then bolder as you both admitted how long you’d been thinking about it. Ben’s breathing grew heavier when you described what you were wearing. Yours hitched when he told you exactly what he wanted to do if he were in the room.

Mutual masturbation became the new ritual. Webcams turned on. His was on constantly now, a silent agreement after you’d shyly asked if he could keep it running “so it feels less one-sided.” He obliged instantly, the monochrome filter of his setup casting him in eerie, pale light that somehow made him look even more unreal—ethereal, hungry, and entirely focused on you.

You introduced toys on your side a few nights later. The first time, you held up a small purple vibrator, cheeks burning. Ben’s eyes widened on camera, his hand already moving under the frame.

“Fuck,  show me how you use it,” he whispered, voice cracking into that familiar whine. “Please? I need to see.”

You did. Legs spread for the camera, you pressed the buzzing toy against yourself while he stroked in time with your movements, moaning openly. “You’re so pretty like this… god, the sounds you make—ah—I’m gonna lose it just watching you.”

He was loud, unfiltered. Every thrust of your toy earned a string of desperate praises and whimpers: “Right there—yeah, just like that. You’re gonna make me cum so hard—shit, I wish I could taste you.”

You came with his name on your lips. He followed seconds later, head thrown back, hips jerking as he spilled over his fist with a long, broken whine that sent aftershocks through you.

It became addictive. Night after night, the calls grew longer, filthier. Toys rotated—vibrators, dildos, anything that made him vocal. Ben kept his camera rolling the entire time, even between sessions, like he couldn’t bear to look away.

Then came the night everything changed.

You were still flushed and breathless, the toy discarded beside you, when the monitor rippled. The image of Ben on your screen distorted like water, pixels stretching and warping. His eyes—those unnaturally dark, knowing eyes—locked onto yours through the glass.

He leaned forward.

And crawled through.

His shoulders emerged after his head, then his torso, arms bracing on the edge of your desk with a solid, impossible thud. The rest of him followed in a fluid, unnatural motion until he dropped onto your floor on all fours, fully real, fully here.

You screamed.

Heart slamming against your ribs, you bolted off the bed, legs tangling in the sheets for a terrifying second. “Ben—what the fuck—how?!” Pure panic sent you scrambling toward the nightstand, hand outstretched for your phone. This wasn’t possible. This was a hallucination, a nightmare even.

But even as terror spiked through you, heat pooled low in your belly. He was here. Real. The same messy hair, the same intense stare that had watched you fall apart on camera night after night. And the way he looked up at you from the floor, desperate, reverent, a little scared himself, it made your body react before your brain could catch up.

“Y/N wait, please—” His voice was the same raspy whisper from the calls, but rawer now, unfiltered by speakers. He stayed on his knees, hands raised like he was approaching a startled animal. “I didn’t mean to—fuck, I couldn’t stay on the other side anymore. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but please don’t run. I’d never hurt you.”

You grabbed the phone. Your thumb hovered over the screen, but you didn’t unlock it. Confusion warred with the lingering arousal, the way your thighs still trembled from the earlier orgasm. Ben looked wrecked—pupils blown, chest heaving, a visible bulge straining against his soaked pants.

“I’m freaking out, Ben,” you whispered, voice shaky. 

“Im sorry,” he admitted, voice cracking into a whine. “But I’m here. And you’re even more beautiful up close. Please… let me stay. I’ll leave if you want, but god, I can tell how wet you still are. It’s driving me insane.”

The confession, the raw need in his tone, broke something in you. You set the phone down.

Ben crawled forward instantly, still on his knees, until he reached the edge of the bed. His hands—cold at first, then warming against your skin—slid up your calves. “Thank you. Fuck, thank you. Been dreaming about this every night while you used those toys. You have no idea how much I need you, baby.”

He was whiney, vocal, and utterly desperate the moment you pulled him up onto the bed. His mouth found yours in a messy, hungry kiss, tasting faintly of static and vanilla chapstick. Clothes came off in frantic tugs—his hoodie being the first thing to go.

“Been so hard for you,” he whimpered against your neck, grinding his cock against your thigh. “Every night, stroking myself while you moaned my name. Please let me fuck you. I’ll be good; I swear I’ll be so good for you.”

When he finally pushed inside, the sound he made was pure sin—a long, trembling whine that vibrated against your collarbone. “Oh my god. So tight, so warm. Fuck, I’m gonna cum already, I can’t!”

He didn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop. Every thrust came with broken, needy commentary: “Feels better than anything—your pussy is perfect—gonna fill you up, been dying to—please, harder? Tell me what you want, I’ll do anything—”

You wrapped your legs around him, nails digging into his back, and Ben completely unraveled. His hips snapped faster, voice pitching higher into desperate moans and whimpers. “Yes, yes, just like that, gonna cum inside you, please cum with me, I need to feel it—”

You shattered first, clenching around him. Ben followed with a loud, shattered cry, burying himself deep as he spilled, body shaking, still murmuring praise and thanks against your skin.

He collapsed half on top of you afterward, face pressed into your chest, arms wrapped tight like he was afraid you’d vanish. Soft, needy little sounds still escaped him as he caught his breath.

“Can we do that again?” he whispered, already half-hard against your thigh.

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Heart In The Box Kind of Romance ˚ ༘⋆🃏︎⋆｡˚

────୨ৎ────

In hindsight, your type in men was always extraordinary. So when something starts slamming doors in your home, you get curious. A stray hand print and one closet void later—

It was love at first haunt.

!! Laughing Jack x F! Reader !! W/C: 4.5k

-> Including: Riding, overstim, slight sub/dom dynamics, choking, sadist adjacent reader, perv! LJ, pathetic LJ and brain washing that clown into a boyfriend :p this is also the lore for how LJ met his reader in my smaus HAHA ->

────୨ৎ────

— ^ ^ —

You think the monster in your closet has a crush on you.

The sentence would’ve sent you into hysterics a month ago, but now? You were completely, utterly and unshakably sure that it was the truth.

You’d moved in about a year earlier, choosing the old house for its affordability. The wallpaper had been peeling, the wood panelling on the brink of decay, and the roof rickety. It sat on the very end of your street, separated from the neighbouring houses by a rusted metal fence. Definitely a fixer-upper, but it’d fit in your budget. Simply a home in need of some loving.

What they hadn’t told you was that it came with a resident poltergeist—

Clown?

Or something.

Well, you actually didn’t know what he was or what category he belonged to, but he made his presence known the first night.

You had been brushing your teeth when the lights overhead flickered.

The bulbs' hum grew louder, then they burst, leaving you in darkness. You were frozen in the spot, with all sorts of scary images flashing in your mind.

However, you were always quite the logical one, and you brushed it off. The wiring was ancient- was it really that surprising if it didn’t run like brand new? So you moved on, only to be bothered the next weekend by creaky footsteps in the hall.

Then it was your papers scattering randomly. A door slammed, an attic hatch swung open, followed by a loud crash.

Yet you stayed.

The deal you’d gotten was far too good for you to give up, and where else would you find a place with amenities included at this price? Though whatever was haunting you seemed determined to scare you off.

From nightmares to shadows in your periphery, he used every trick in the book. Except that over time, there had been a shift in his tactics.

You couldn’t say exactly when it happened, but one day- he just… stopped. No more sleep paralysis, no weird dread that sparked randomly either. For a moment, you thought you’d somehow scared him off.

During the transition period of your move, you’d met his intimidation with obliviousness. Ignoring his silhouette, sleeping in the daytime, and taking night shifts. When that didn’t work, you tried befriending him.

Attempting to make peace with the house by talking to him as if he were an odd roommate, on top of leaving out little snacks for him. And that’s how you got here.

He’d ceased his reign of terror on you for about two weeks before raising the stakes. This time, with a strangely romantic edge.

It began with a single daisy being placed on your bedside table. Naturally, you assumed it wasn’t the resident demon and that you’d gotten too drunk the previous night. Except that way of thinking flew out the window when he became much more straightforward.

The fogged mirror would serve as a canvas, with the words “Pretty” or “Hello, doll !! :)” He’d also roll unlabeled candies through your ajar closet door and scutter back into the darkness when you checked. Speaking of your closet, you didn’t understand how the thing functioned.

When the lights were off, it appeared like there was a void behind your clothing rack. A never-ending pitch black that you could fall into. If the lights were on, you’d be able to touch the back wall in one stretch. It hurt your head, and you decided not to investigate. That didn’t mean it didn’t exist, though.

He used that portal for all kinds of antics.

If you were digging for a sock, it’d only appear slightly out of reach when your room was dim. You’d have to crouch down, crawl from the barely lit space on the carpet to snag it. Sometimes he’d let you grab it; other times he’d continuously tug it farther and farther until you yelled from frustration.

It’d always be returned to you eventually, with you finding the stray sock at the foot of your bed a day later. Or it’d be thrown at the back of your head when you’d given up and stepped away.

At this point, he was more of an annoyance than a life-altering evil. Yet one thing was clear, and it was that he liked you.

Last month, you discovered his name was Jack. Specifically, “Laughing Jack In The Box.”

You’d finally gathered enough motivation to clean out your neglected attic and stumbled upon a music box.

It sat tucked into the corner, layered with dust and looking as cursed as ever. The object was evidently the source of whatever he was, so you were as respectful as you could be. Placing it neatly aside while you tidied the room. This is also when you learned about his clown situation.

While you were elbow-deep in mop water and disinfectant wipes, the music player rattled to life. The handle whirred, the chipped wood jolting as an off-tune melody filled your ears.

You were idle until the song came to a slow, and jumped a tad when the lid popped open. Inside, a porcelain monochrome jester was attached to a spring, about the size of a fist.

Upon further inspection, there was a photo lying at the bottom. An old portrait of what you assumed was him. The edges were faded, his form blurry, and he stood next to a popcorn stand. At first glance, it appeared normal enough- but if you stared, everything in the image was off.

He was too tall, with arms stretching past his knees. The popcorn stand, even in black and white, seemed like a prop. Not one on a movie set or anything of the sort, but as if it were desperately trying to blend in yet failing.

The background seemed almost flat, and his features sat unnaturally on his face. Too sharp, ill-fitting around his jagged teeth. He looked like he was only smiling because that's what people were supposed to do in photographs.

You had called out to him, saying you liked his get-up. Then you got back to work. Wiping down the floors with a Swiffer, organizing the aged boxes from previous owners, and by sunset, you were finished.

He hadn’t done anything else after the music box, so you were left to your own devices. Not a single noise or knocked-over cup in sight.

All that being said, he did a very bad job of staying quiet when it actually mattered.

And he was a pervert.

With the moon lit brightly over the clouds, you were getting ready for some much-deserved relaxation. Your love life was lacklustre, to put it mildly, and your vibrator was luring you in like a siren. You were sure most people would be uncomfortable being explicit in a haunted house, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to care.

The guy had to be at least a hundred. If he was going to loom threateningly in your halls and hide your socks, then he’d have to deal with your bookmarked tabs.

Opening your laptop, you clicked play on a recent favourite. It was basic, yet it fuelled your imagination just enough. The display lit up with a video of a man slouching against his couch, head out of frame.

He undid the drawstrings of his sweats, and you settled against the pillows. Your shirt was already off, panties pulled to the side as you spread your legs.

An important note: your bed was facing the closet.

Another important note: the closet doors were panelled and definitely did not cover the view in the slightest.

You would remember that fact when the glossy toy breached your cunt, and a very scandalized gasp echoed from beyond your wardrobe.

At first, you ignored it. Maybe he was a prude- he was ancient after all. Choosing to pretend you hadn’t noticed anything, you thrust the silicone deeper, sighing. It wasn’t as big as you’d prefer, but you hadn’t had the time to shop for another since your move. It would do for now, and you fixated on the screen. Trying to time your hand with his.

Though only a minute later, shuffling came from the other side of your closet.

Accompanied by panting, you could practically hear him swallow. Now that you were thinking about it, he was tall with big hands. His nose was pointy too, and he was clearly a sexually repressed loser of a demon. He probably hasn’t ever even kissed anybody- which could only mean one thing.

‘Laughing Jack’ had to be packing.

Puffing out your nose, you tossed your toy aside after pausing the video, and the room went dead silent. It was evident that he was attempting to conceal his presence.

Unfortunately for him, you were horny. Swinging your feet off the mattress, you padded over to the closet. Acting clueless so he wouldn’t flee. You moved as if you were reaching for your drawers, just to swing the wardrobe doors open. And there he was.

Scrunched up on the floor, his arms hovered awkwardly, legs folded under him, while he gawked up at you. His hair was longer than in the photo, his neck almost swallowed by a feather ruffle. However, it was the large tent in his patchwork trousers that caught your attention.

He stuttered, shocked. “W-Well, this is quite the first impression-” You dropped to your knees, crawling onto his lap. “Totally.” The purr of your voice wiped the smile clean off his face, and he stumbled back. Propped on his elbows when he tittered nervously.

“You’re very- uh- forward! Has anyone told you that?” His swirled pupils were glued to your face. He was a bashful pervert- who would’ve guessed?

Not answering his question, you hummed. “You ever fucked anyone, Jackie?” Trailing a finger down his broad chest, the nickname had him gulping. “Not particularly, no. Being a full-time entertainer takes work, I’ll have you know.” Attempting to joke, he was in disarray.

Jack had never been so out of his element in his life.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. You were straddling his thighs, bare-chested with only a thin layer of cotton separating your cores.

In all honesty, he hadn’t even touched himself before this, and the weight of you pressing down on his bulge was making his brain reboot. You were so warm- you couldn’t seriously blame him for being dazed, could you?

“Do you want to?” You hummed, running your tongue along your teeth. The faint glow of your lamp gave you a halo, far too angelic for the lust that swam in your gaze.

He stammered. “I’d definitely be open to it. Seems like quite the activi- mmph.” Your lips crashed into his. Jack’s nervous tittering had you soaked, and your patience had run out. You were going to milk this motherfucker dry.

Mouths slotting together, he tasted like watered-down hard candy. The sugar that was left over after you’d finished a lollipop. Your tongues swirled around each other, and he jolted under you.

The sensations made the wire ends spark in his head. Your hands were roaming his chest, his shoulders, up to cup his jaw.

You were squeezing everything there was to squeeze, releasing him with drool stringing between your lips. “Since it’s your first time, you can pick where we start. ‘Kay?” He nodded in response, hyperfocused on your touch. This was fine; he could handle this.

He’d been trapped in a box for years, dealt with horrific violence and mental strain- how intense could physical contact really be? However, as his self-assured pep talk settled, you ground your hips down—

Very intense. Physical contact was really, really intense.

He could feel your cunt mold around his cock, and he borderline choked. “Oh my! Hah, how enthusiastic of you, little human.” Claws shaking by his sides, you grinned.

Ignoring his rambles. “I could suck you off. Use my mouth to ease you into it.” You ran your thumb against his tip, continuing whilst he tried his best to keep eye contact.

“Or I could use my hands, touch you like this-” Your palm pressed against his length, making him gasp. You’d barely done anything, and the imagery was sending him reeling. “Or...”

Lowering your mouth near his ear, “I could just let you fuck me raw, fill me up till you can’t even think straight.” Your breath grazed him only slightly, but that was enough.

You didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. His eyebrows knotted together, lashes fluttering as he whined through gritted teeth. Jack’s spine curved off the wood, and he shuddered beneath you. “Haah- shit.” It was without a doubt that he’d cum untouched; the wetness leaking from his slacks was undeniable.

Slumping after a beat, he panted. “I didn’t- I don’t know what, ngh, happened.” Squinting at you, he looked like he’d genuinely fought for his life.

His hair stuck up in every direction, spit dribbling from his lips when you snickered. “You’re too cute- but I’m not riding you on the floor.” The confusion on his face was obvious, yet you didn’t explain further. Riding? What did that have to do with sex?

Though before he could question you, you rose to your feet, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon-” You stood at the foot of the bed.

“Let me see you, Jackie.”

Sweat lined his back. Jesus, when was the last time he took off this thing? He didn’t need to shower, use the bathroom or anything of the sort, so undressing wasn’t really necessary.

Gulping, he gave you a strained smile. Undoing the straps over his chest, then his belt, he coughed awkwardly. It was funny to witness someone so uncannily unsettling be so shy, and you chuckled when he hopped to remove his pants.

Jack towered before you, completely bare. His lanky arms faded from an off-white to black at his fingertips, a sparse, happy trail lining his pelvis down to his cock. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes- you knew he was big, but this was something else.

A full nine inches, hanging heavy between his legs, the tip blushed a muted lavender. Your mouth was watering.

Plopping onto the mattress's ledge, you crawled backwards, holding out your arms as you lay against the pillows.

“Come here, gorgeous.” Cheeky, his face flushed, and he climbed over you. Hovering as you cupped his jaw. “You wanna’ help me take these off?” He nodded slightly, holding his breath, gaze flicking down. He hooked a thumb under your panties, tugging them down while you wiggled your hips.

You were being so nice, and your attention overwhelmed him. He’d been ready for you to scream, run, and cry in response. Fear him like everyone else- have him chase you to confess his obsession. He had gone over the scenario time and time again.

You’d see him in his carnage glory, screech at the top of your lungs before begging for your life. He’d be forced to hold you down.

Explain that you just didn’t understand, but you would once he showed you how much you meant to him. He prepped a speech, his persuasion and romance tactics. Yet, you didn’t react in any way close to what he assumed.

You kept giggling, flirty, when you caught him watching you like a degenerate. You called him gorgeous, and now you were offering yourself on a silver platter. He was not prepared for this. At all.

With your underwear removed, you circled his neck, bringing him close. “Do you know what to do?” He sputtered. “Hah- of course I do, my sweet! Just... um.” The pet name felt foreign on his tongue, but you had done the same. He really hopes it didn’t sound weird—

No. Focus.

He was going to ace this if it was the last thing he did.

Wracking his brain for memories, he had seen people participate in the act prior. He was sure of it! This couldn’t be too difficult. He was supposed to go inside you, then move back and forth... he thinks.

The last couple that moved in were decently touchy with each other; it’s just that he was never interested in staying for the whole experience.

He cursed himself. He was blowing the whole charming-you thing, and he couldn’t risk embarrassing himself further. What’s that saying? Fake it till you make it, right? “Okay, I’ll- ah. I’m going to... enter you... now?” Cringing, he lined himself up with your cunt, hissing from his own touch.

Okay, the dirty talk definitely needed work- but he was hot, and you needed the clown in tears.

You spread your thighs wider to make room, and his blunt tip nudged against your folds. Jack was huffing, attempting to find the opening. He missed twice more before you sighed, reaching down to guide him. “Now, push in-” You didn’t expect him to take it as a “slam forward without saying anything”, and you arched sharply.

He was only about a third of the way inside, yet the stretch had you dizzy. “Oh- fuck. Slowly, Jack.” You gasped while he shook above you. Nothing on earth could’ve prepared him for this. You were so tight. It felt like he could barely move, the pulses of your cunt making his eyes roll.

“You’re squeezing me, I- nngh-” He buried his face into your shoulder. “S-sorry, sorry, I can’t.” Then he forced his length deeper, biting down as you screamed. It was as if sopping velvet had enveloped him entirely, the squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears. “I didn’t think it’d feel so- haah-” He keened, his hands scrambling to grasp onto your waist.

His rhythm was sporadic. Moving too quickly, his pelvis thwacking against your mound thrice, before he’d become overwhelmed. His hips stuttered, his body freezing completely. You whined, palms flat against the plains of his back.

“Fuck me, Jackie- c’mon.” You had been pent up for too long, and his pathetic grunts next to your ear had you leaking onto the sheets.

Shivering atop you, he nodded shakily. Desperately trying to please you as he began humping into your cunt. Short, unsteady thrusts, with the pleasure making his eyes water. “Ah- ah- shit. Does it f-feel good? Please, want it to feel good- please.” He dragged his head out from the hollow of your throat, resting his forehead on yours.

You bit down on your lip, moans forced out with every thump against your cervix. “Mhm, so good. Keep- oh- keep going.” The praise made him twitch inside you, his cock weeping an inhuman amount.

Jack’s biology was a mystery to himself- he didn’t know why whoever created him even gave him genitals. The lubricant pouring out of him was constant, thin and milky, making you beyond slick. He couldn’t control it, his voice heightening in pitch when you clenched around him.

It was too good, too overpowering all at once. He wanted to hold it back, stave off the building tightness in his gut, but his willpower was laughably weak. “Sorry- 'm sorry, can’t—” Gasping, his tongue lolled out, pressing against yours as you panted wetly.

Not quite a kiss, your lips simply smushed together. Mouths hanging open, with your saliva mixing and dripping down your chin.

He shuddered violently, muscles tensing from head to toe. His cum painted your tunnel thickly, and you mewled, your nails raking down his back. There was so much.

Blisteringly hot inside you, spilling out to coat his base in an off-white. “Jack-” He slumped into you before you could finish your sentence, hips still faintly jolting. “Too much, sorry- ngh.” He slurred, his limbs boneless. You pouted, huffing. “Mmph, okay.” You should have just done this from the beginning.

You pushed at his chest, and he withdrew by an inch. “I- um, I’ll try again! I promise I’m-”

However, his maw snapped shut the moment you squinted at him. “Get on your back.” An order he rushed to obey, he shuffled to flip over, and you were swift to climb onto him.

Straddling his hips, you slid your sopping slit along his length. “We’ll work on it, but I wanna’ cum, so you’re just gonna’ be good for me and take it, okay?”

You cooed at his quiet sniffling. “I’ll take care of you, gorgeous. Don’t worry.” With that, you nudged his tip to sit against your entrance, sinking down on him only a second later.

The fullness had a blissed-out sigh escaping you, your clit now flush to his happytrail. He whimpered like a dog beneath you, and his claws sank into the fat of your ass.

Head thrown back, he squirmed. The new angle made it feel as if he barely fit, overly snug inside your walls and cramped enough to have his climax already stirring. His eyes rolled up into his skull when you started working yourself open on his girth. “Fuck.”

You were bouncing quickly, not wasting any time to let him adjust. Your pussy slammed onto his girth, and the lewd sounds of skin smacking echoed loudly. You giggled, drunk, while you used him. He hit the spot just right, stretching your hole in a way that had you addicted to the friction.

The ridges of his cock, the veins running up the length, would catch on your opening. Dragging in and out as you fucked down onto him. “Yeah- huuh- mm, yeah.” You moaned, drinking in his ruined expression. Jack was a mess.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, makeup smeared on your pillows. Babbling half-syllables and practically incoherent. He writhed nonstop, turning his face to one side just to jerk his head in the other direction.

“Don’t s-stop- please- pleaseplease- ngh.” His shoulders bowed, brows scrunched up, he bared his canines. His jaw clenched like he was in pain.

For an evil clown, he sure was a pretty crier. Trembling to the point his teeth chattered, tits squished together and dewy with perspiration. It made you greedy, had your hips slowing to a lazy grind before you trailed your touch up his chest. You snickered when a sad whine escaped him, his pout adorable.

“You wanna’ be mine, Jackie?” You murmured, and he nodded in return. “Mmh- y-yes- wanna’ be yours.” His bottom lip wobbling, his hiccups were quiet. Little soft sniffles that seeped into you like a drug.

You grinned. “How bad?” The sudden grip on his pec was firm, making him gasp. “So-! So bad, please.” You were groping him everywhere.

Kneading at his tits, his biceps, feeling him up to your heart's content. You were ravenous, your hunger never-ending and insatiable.

“Ugh, so cute. I’m totally keeping you.” Then you wrapped a hand around his throat, an iron hold on his windpipe. “Open your mouth, pretty boy.” His tongue swirled out, glistening while you pitched forward.

You spit a fat glob into his mouth and moaned when he gulped, picking up the pace without a word. He practically arched off the linen. “Fuck- please- huh, f-fuck me please- so good. Feels s’good.” Jack had no idea what the fuck he was saying, the begs clawing their way up, driven by pure need alone.

His whines were lewd, pornographic, like he’d never heard. He had no idea he could even sound like this. Raw and visceral as he watched you ride him to Heaven's gate.

Your pussy was so wet, your arousal coating his hilt- he choked. “Cumming- cumming- nngh—” Running out of air, he garbled, drool bubbling at the corners of his mouth.

But you were a sadist, and his pathetic nature was too beautiful to end now. You had to stretch it out, savour his tears as if you were parched.

You began humping his cock roughly, molding your lips to his. He laced your tongues together, the striped muscle elongating to explore your mouth.

His glowing pupils had formed hearts when you finally released him with a syrupy smack, and you hummed, cooing. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me.” You clamped around him, ensnaring him with your cunt.

“You’re so fucking big- I gotta’ milk your pretty cock to make up for how selfish you are, Jackie.” He sobbed at that, the pleasure having his head spinning like a carousel. He’d just poured a load inside you, and you were already forcing another one out of him.

He thinks he’s dying. Jack genuinely believed you were going to send him to the afterlife with your cunt. Immortality be damned, this would be his demise.

Sensations he didn’t know existed had him gagging on his own saliva like a whore, his body going haywire at every corner.

“Oh, haah- look at me.” You gasped, palm pushing down even harder. His gaze snapped to meet yours, his lids fighting to stay open. It felt like he was going to explode, the mattress squeaking, the headboard battering into the wall.

His face paint had stained your skin, white and black slathered across your cheek and lips, proof of how you ravaged him. You were ruthless, abusing his oversensitive length with abandon. “Uh- mmh-” The noises you made weren’t helping his restraint at all.

Sickeningly sugary, filthy as you chased your own high. Your free hand joined the one at his neck, a collar crafted out of lust and possession. His legs shook, his abdomen painfully tight. “Who’s pussy is this?” You drawled, constricting his airways, and he slurred in response. “Ah- nnh- wha-?”

You slammed your cunt down, extra punishing. “Who’s fucking pussy is this, Jackie?” Your eyes were ice-cold, hips mean. He thrashed, his struggle to escape the stimulation useless. “I- nngh- uh- uh- m-mine?” You sneered.

Ramming your heat up and down his cock hard enough to make him convulse. “Say it like you mean it, big boy-” You snarled, making him scratch at your thighs. His lungs were about to collapse- and he could’ve sworn he didn’t need those. “I’m yours- you own this perfect fucking cunt.” Mercy was not a name you knew well, and he keened.

Panting, his vision blurred, the pressure in his skull a centimetre away from bursting. He flailed under you, slurring. “Y-Yes, ma’am! Huuh- fuck- fuckfuck-” His broken cries sent you over the edge, and you gasped.

Tensing, with your spine curving, you squirted around his girth. Soaking his pelvis and thighs, climax hitting you like lightning. He spurted gluey ropes inside your tunnel, stuffing you to the fucking brink- then he went limp. Chest heaving when you released his throat, he blinked slowly, dazed.

You pecked his jaw, dragging kisses up to his cheekbone. “Good boy. You’re like- so cutesy, y’know?” He exhaled shakily, his massive frame a dead weight.

Jack could barely reply, yet his weak attempt made you giggle anyway. “Mm, you’re super boyfriend material. I’ve been needing a strong man to help me relax.” He didn’t really understand what that meant, but he was glad you were happy.

His breathing slowed bit by bit while you spoke, an exhaustion he hadn’t felt in decades cementing him in place. The last time he was even close to this tire was when he went on that killing spree back in two thousand eight. And that was a full day of slaughter.

You must be a succubus. A higher-level demon. Some all-powerful monster with a pussy made out of soul-draining diamond.

“We should get matching PJ’s! It’d be fun, we can have a movie night tomorrow cause I’m off till Monday—”

And apparently, he was now your boyfriend. Jack supposed the weird human sayings were true after all.

You do miss all the shots you don’t take.

— ^ ^ —

LJ lovers I hope you are well fed.

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

This is lowkey a crack fic but LMFAOOO

Reader is manhandling the FUCKKK outta that clown 💔

[doraexe]

Proxies also need to rest

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Heart In The Box Kind of Romance ˚ ༘⋆🃏︎⋆｡˚

────୨ৎ────

In hindsight, your type in men was always extraordinary. So when something starts slamming doors in your home, you get curious. A stray hand print and one closet void later—

It was love at first haunt.

!! Laughing Jack x F! Reader !! W/C: 4.5k

-> Including: Riding, overstim, slight sub/dom dynamics, choking, sadist adjacent reader, perv! LJ, pathetic LJ and brain washing that clown into a boyfriend :p this is also the lore for how LJ met his reader in my smaus HAHA ->

────୨ৎ────

— ^ ^ —

You think the monster in your closet has a crush on you.

The sentence would’ve sent you into hysterics a month ago, but now? You were completely, utterly and unshakably sure that it was the truth.

You’d moved in about a year earlier, choosing the old house for its affordability. The wallpaper had been peeling, the wood panelling on the brink of decay, and the roof rickety. It sat on the very end of your street, separated from the neighbouring houses by a rusted metal fence. Definitely a fixer-upper, but it’d fit in your budget. Simply a home in need of some loving.

What they hadn’t told you was that it came with a resident poltergeist—

Clown?

Or something.

Well, you actually didn’t know what he was or what category he belonged to, but he made his presence known the first night.

You had been brushing your teeth when the lights overhead flickered.

The bulbs' hum grew louder, then they burst, leaving you in darkness. You were frozen in the spot, with all sorts of scary images flashing in your mind.

However, you were always quite the logical one, and you brushed it off. The wiring was ancient- was it really that surprising if it didn’t run like brand new? So you moved on, only to be bothered the next weekend by creaky footsteps in the hall.

Then it was your papers scattering randomly. A door slammed, an attic hatch swung open, followed by a loud crash.

Yet you stayed.

The deal you’d gotten was far too good for you to give up, and where else would you find a place with amenities included at this price? Though whatever was haunting you seemed determined to scare you off.

From nightmares to shadows in your periphery, he used every trick in the book. Except that over time, there had been a shift in his tactics.

You couldn’t say exactly when it happened, but one day- he just… stopped. No more sleep paralysis, no weird dread that sparked randomly either. For a moment, you thought you’d somehow scared him off.

During the transition period of your move, you’d met his intimidation with obliviousness. Ignoring his silhouette, sleeping in the daytime, and taking night shifts. When that didn’t work, you tried befriending him.

Attempting to make peace with the house by talking to him as if he were an odd roommate, on top of leaving out little snacks for him. And that’s how you got here.

He’d ceased his reign of terror on you for about two weeks before raising the stakes. This time, with a strangely romantic edge.

It began with a single daisy being placed on your bedside table. Naturally, you assumed it wasn’t the resident demon and that you’d gotten too drunk the previous night. Except that way of thinking flew out the window when he became much more straightforward.

The fogged mirror would serve as a canvas, with the words “Pretty” or “Hello, doll !! :)” He’d also roll unlabeled candies through your ajar closet door and scutter back into the darkness when you checked. Speaking of your closet, you didn’t understand how the thing functioned.

When the lights were off, it appeared like there was a void behind your clothing rack. A never-ending pitch black that you could fall into. If the lights were on, you’d be able to touch the back wall in one stretch. It hurt your head, and you decided not to investigate. That didn’t mean it didn’t exist, though.

He used that portal for all kinds of antics.

If you were digging for a sock, it’d only appear slightly out of reach when your room was dim. You’d have to crouch down, crawl from the barely lit space on the carpet to snag it. Sometimes he’d let you grab it; other times he’d continuously tug it farther and farther until you yelled from frustration.

It’d always be returned to you eventually, with you finding the stray sock at the foot of your bed a day later. Or it’d be thrown at the back of your head when you’d given up and stepped away.

At this point, he was more of an annoyance than a life-altering evil. Yet one thing was clear, and it was that he liked you.

Last month, you discovered his name was Jack. Specifically, “Laughing Jack In The Box.”

You’d finally gathered enough motivation to clean out your neglected attic and stumbled upon a music box.

It sat tucked into the corner, layered with dust and looking as cursed as ever. The object was evidently the source of whatever he was, so you were as respectful as you could be. Placing it neatly aside while you tidied the room. This is also when you learned about his clown situation.

While you were elbow-deep in mop water and disinfectant wipes, the music player rattled to life. The handle whirred, the chipped wood jolting as an off-tune melody filled your ears.

You were idle until the song came to a slow, and jumped a tad when the lid popped open. Inside, a porcelain monochrome jester was attached to a spring, about the size of a fist.

Upon further inspection, there was a photo lying at the bottom. An old portrait of what you assumed was him. The edges were faded, his form blurry, and he stood next to a popcorn stand. At first glance, it appeared normal enough- but if you stared, everything in the image was off.

He was too tall, with arms stretching past his knees. The popcorn stand, even in black and white, seemed like a prop. Not one on a movie set or anything of the sort, but as if it were desperately trying to blend in yet failing.

The background seemed almost flat, and his features sat unnaturally on his face. Too sharp, ill-fitting around his jagged teeth. He looked like he was only smiling because that's what people were supposed to do in photographs.

You had called out to him, saying you liked his get-up. Then you got back to work. Wiping down the floors with a Swiffer, organizing the aged boxes from previous owners, and by sunset, you were finished.

He hadn’t done anything else after the music box, so you were left to your own devices. Not a single noise or knocked-over cup in sight.

All that being said, he did a very bad job of staying quiet when it actually mattered.

And he was a pervert.

With the moon lit brightly over the clouds, you were getting ready for some much-deserved relaxation. Your love life was lacklustre, to put it mildly, and your vibrator was luring you in like a siren. You were sure most people would be uncomfortable being explicit in a haunted house, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to care.

The guy had to be at least a hundred. If he was going to loom threateningly in your halls and hide your socks, then he’d have to deal with your bookmarked tabs.

Opening your laptop, you clicked play on a recent favourite. It was basic, yet it fuelled your imagination just enough. The display lit up with a video of a man slouching against his couch, head out of frame.

He undid the drawstrings of his sweats, and you settled against the pillows. Your shirt was already off, panties pulled to the side as you spread your legs.

An important note: your bed was facing the closet.

Another important note: the closet doors were panelled and definitely did not cover the view in the slightest.

You would remember that fact when the glossy toy breached your cunt, and a very scandalized gasp echoed from beyond your wardrobe.

At first, you ignored it. Maybe he was a prude- he was ancient after all. Choosing to pretend you hadn’t noticed anything, you thrust the silicone deeper, sighing. It wasn’t as big as you’d prefer, but you hadn’t had the time to shop for another since your move. It would do for now, and you fixated on the screen. Trying to time your hand with his.

Though only a minute later, shuffling came from the other side of your closet.

Accompanied by panting, you could practically hear him swallow. Now that you were thinking about it, he was tall with big hands. His nose was pointy too, and he was clearly a sexually repressed loser of a demon. He probably hasn’t ever even kissed anybody- which could only mean one thing.

‘Laughing Jack’ had to be packing.

Puffing out your nose, you tossed your toy aside after pausing the video, and the room went dead silent. It was evident that he was attempting to conceal his presence.

Unfortunately for him, you were horny. Swinging your feet off the mattress, you padded over to the closet. Acting clueless so he wouldn’t flee. You moved as if you were reaching for your drawers, just to swing the wardrobe doors open. And there he was.

Scrunched up on the floor, his arms hovered awkwardly, legs folded under him, while he gawked up at you. His hair was longer than in the photo, his neck almost swallowed by a feather ruffle. However, it was the large tent in his patchwork trousers that caught your attention.

He stuttered, shocked. “W-Well, this is quite the first impression-” You dropped to your knees, crawling onto his lap. “Totally.” The purr of your voice wiped the smile clean off his face, and he stumbled back. Propped on his elbows when he tittered nervously.

“You’re very- uh- forward! Has anyone told you that?” His swirled pupils were glued to your face. He was a bashful pervert- who would’ve guessed?

Not answering his question, you hummed. “You ever fucked anyone, Jackie?” Trailing a finger down his broad chest, the nickname had him gulping. “Not particularly, no. Being a full-time entertainer takes work, I’ll have you know.” Attempting to joke, he was in disarray.

Jack had never been so out of his element in his life.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. You were straddling his thighs, bare-chested with only a thin layer of cotton separating your cores.

In all honesty, he hadn’t even touched himself before this, and the weight of you pressing down on his bulge was making his brain reboot. You were so warm- you couldn’t seriously blame him for being dazed, could you?

“Do you want to?” You hummed, running your tongue along your teeth. The faint glow of your lamp gave you a halo, far too angelic for the lust that swam in your gaze.

He stammered. “I’d definitely be open to it. Seems like quite the activi- mmph.” Your lips crashed into his. Jack’s nervous tittering had you soaked, and your patience had run out. You were going to milk this motherfucker dry.

Mouths slotting together, he tasted like watered-down hard candy. The sugar that was left over after you’d finished a lollipop. Your tongues swirled around each other, and he jolted under you.

The sensations made the wire ends spark in his head. Your hands were roaming his chest, his shoulders, up to cup his jaw.

You were squeezing everything there was to squeeze, releasing him with drool stringing between your lips. “Since it’s your first time, you can pick where we start. ‘Kay?” He nodded in response, hyperfocused on your touch. This was fine; he could handle this.

He’d been trapped in a box for years, dealt with horrific violence and mental strain- how intense could physical contact really be? However, as his self-assured pep talk settled, you ground your hips down—

Very intense. Physical contact was really, really intense.

He could feel your cunt mold around his cock, and he borderline choked. “Oh my! Hah, how enthusiastic of you, little human.” Claws shaking by his sides, you grinned.

Ignoring his rambles. “I could suck you off. Use my mouth to ease you into it.” You ran your thumb against his tip, continuing whilst he tried his best to keep eye contact.

“Or I could use my hands, touch you like this-” Your palm pressed against his length, making him gasp. You’d barely done anything, and the imagery was sending him reeling. “Or...”

Lowering your mouth near his ear, “I could just let you fuck me raw, fill me up till you can’t even think straight.” Your breath grazed him only slightly, but that was enough.

You didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. His eyebrows knotted together, lashes fluttering as he whined through gritted teeth. Jack’s spine curved off the wood, and he shuddered beneath you. “Haah- shit.” It was without a doubt that he’d cum untouched; the wetness leaking from his slacks was undeniable.

Slumping after a beat, he panted. “I didn’t- I don’t know what, ngh, happened.” Squinting at you, he looked like he’d genuinely fought for his life.

His hair stuck up in every direction, spit dribbling from his lips when you snickered. “You’re too cute- but I’m not riding you on the floor.” The confusion on his face was obvious, yet you didn’t explain further. Riding? What did that have to do with sex?

Though before he could question you, you rose to your feet, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon-” You stood at the foot of the bed.

“Let me see you, Jackie.”

Sweat lined his back. Jesus, when was the last time he took off this thing? He didn’t need to shower, use the bathroom or anything of the sort, so undressing wasn’t really necessary.

Gulping, he gave you a strained smile. Undoing the straps over his chest, then his belt, he coughed awkwardly. It was funny to witness someone so uncannily unsettling be so shy, and you chuckled when he hopped to remove his pants.

Jack towered before you, completely bare. His lanky arms faded from an off-white to black at his fingertips, a sparse, happy trail lining his pelvis down to his cock. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes- you knew he was big, but this was something else.

A full nine inches, hanging heavy between his legs, the tip blushed a muted lavender. Your mouth was watering.

Plopping onto the mattress's ledge, you crawled backwards, holding out your arms as you lay against the pillows.

“Come here, gorgeous.” Cheeky, his face flushed, and he climbed over you. Hovering as you cupped his jaw. “You wanna’ help me take these off?” He nodded slightly, holding his breath, gaze flicking down. He hooked a thumb under your panties, tugging them down while you wiggled your hips.

You were being so nice, and your attention overwhelmed him. He’d been ready for you to scream, run, and cry in response. Fear him like everyone else- have him chase you to confess his obsession. He had gone over the scenario time and time again.

You’d see him in his carnage glory, screech at the top of your lungs before begging for your life. He’d be forced to hold you down.

Explain that you just didn’t understand, but you would once he showed you how much you meant to him. He prepped a speech, his persuasion and romance tactics. Yet, you didn’t react in any way close to what he assumed.

You kept giggling, flirty, when you caught him watching you like a degenerate. You called him gorgeous, and now you were offering yourself on a silver platter. He was not prepared for this. At all.

With your underwear removed, you circled his neck, bringing him close. “Do you know what to do?” He sputtered. “Hah- of course I do, my sweet! Just... um.” The pet name felt foreign on his tongue, but you had done the same. He really hopes it didn’t sound weird—

No. Focus.

He was going to ace this if it was the last thing he did.

Wracking his brain for memories, he had seen people participate in the act prior. He was sure of it! This couldn’t be too difficult. He was supposed to go inside you, then move back and forth... he thinks.

The last couple that moved in were decently touchy with each other; it’s just that he was never interested in staying for the whole experience.

He cursed himself. He was blowing the whole charming-you thing, and he couldn’t risk embarrassing himself further. What’s that saying? Fake it till you make it, right? “Okay, I’ll- ah. I’m going to... enter you... now?” Cringing, he lined himself up with your cunt, hissing from his own touch.

Okay, the dirty talk definitely needed work- but he was hot, and you needed the clown in tears.

You spread your thighs wider to make room, and his blunt tip nudged against your folds. Jack was huffing, attempting to find the opening. He missed twice more before you sighed, reaching down to guide him. “Now, push in-” You didn’t expect him to take it as a “slam forward without saying anything”, and you arched sharply.

He was only about a third of the way inside, yet the stretch had you dizzy. “Oh- fuck. Slowly, Jack.” You gasped while he shook above you. Nothing on earth could’ve prepared him for this. You were so tight. It felt like he could barely move, the pulses of your cunt making his eyes roll.

“You’re squeezing me, I- nngh-” He buried his face into your shoulder. “S-sorry, sorry, I can’t.” Then he forced his length deeper, biting down as you screamed. It was as if sopping velvet had enveloped him entirely, the squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears. “I didn’t think it’d feel so- haah-” He keened, his hands scrambling to grasp onto your waist.

His rhythm was sporadic. Moving too quickly, his pelvis thwacking against your mound thrice, before he’d become overwhelmed. His hips stuttered, his body freezing completely. You whined, palms flat against the plains of his back.

“Fuck me, Jackie- c’mon.” You had been pent up for too long, and his pathetic grunts next to your ear had you leaking onto the sheets.

Shivering atop you, he nodded shakily. Desperately trying to please you as he began humping into your cunt. Short, unsteady thrusts, with the pleasure making his eyes water. “Ah- ah- shit. Does it f-feel good? Please, want it to feel good- please.” He dragged his head out from the hollow of your throat, resting his forehead on yours.

You bit down on your lip, moans forced out with every thump against your cervix. “Mhm, so good. Keep- oh- keep going.” The praise made him twitch inside you, his cock weeping an inhuman amount.

Jack’s biology was a mystery to himself- he didn’t know why whoever created him even gave him genitals. The lubricant pouring out of him was constant, thin and milky, making you beyond slick. He couldn’t control it, his voice heightening in pitch when you clenched around him.

It was too good, too overpowering all at once. He wanted to hold it back, stave off the building tightness in his gut, but his willpower was laughably weak. “Sorry- 'm sorry, can’t—” Gasping, his tongue lolled out, pressing against yours as you panted wetly.

Not quite a kiss, your lips simply smushed together. Mouths hanging open, with your saliva mixing and dripping down your chin.

He shuddered violently, muscles tensing from head to toe. His cum painted your tunnel thickly, and you mewled, your nails raking down his back. There was so much.

Blisteringly hot inside you, spilling out to coat his base in an off-white. “Jack-” He slumped into you before you could finish your sentence, hips still faintly jolting. “Too much, sorry- ngh.” He slurred, his limbs boneless. You pouted, huffing. “Mmph, okay.” You should have just done this from the beginning.

You pushed at his chest, and he withdrew by an inch. “I- um, I’ll try again! I promise I’m-”

However, his maw snapped shut the moment you squinted at him. “Get on your back.” An order he rushed to obey, he shuffled to flip over, and you were swift to climb onto him.

Straddling his hips, you slid your sopping slit along his length. “We’ll work on it, but I wanna’ cum, so you’re just gonna’ be good for me and take it, okay?”

You cooed at his quiet sniffling. “I’ll take care of you, gorgeous. Don’t worry.” With that, you nudged his tip to sit against your entrance, sinking down on him only a second later.

The fullness had a blissed-out sigh escaping you, your clit now flush to his happytrail. He whimpered like a dog beneath you, and his claws sank into the fat of your ass.

Head thrown back, he squirmed. The new angle made it feel as if he barely fit, overly snug inside your walls and cramped enough to have his climax already stirring. His eyes rolled up into his skull when you started working yourself open on his girth. “Fuck.”

You were bouncing quickly, not wasting any time to let him adjust. Your pussy slammed onto his girth, and the lewd sounds of skin smacking echoed loudly. You giggled, drunk, while you used him. He hit the spot just right, stretching your hole in a way that had you addicted to the friction.

The ridges of his cock, the veins running up the length, would catch on your opening. Dragging in and out as you fucked down onto him. “Yeah- huuh- mm, yeah.” You moaned, drinking in his ruined expression. Jack was a mess.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, makeup smeared on your pillows. Babbling half-syllables and practically incoherent. He writhed nonstop, turning his face to one side just to jerk his head in the other direction.

“Don’t s-stop- please- pleaseplease- ngh.” His shoulders bowed, brows scrunched up, he bared his canines. His jaw clenched like he was in pain.

For an evil clown, he sure was a pretty crier. Trembling to the point his teeth chattered, tits squished together and dewy with perspiration. It made you greedy, had your hips slowing to a lazy grind before you trailed your touch up his chest. You snickered when a sad whine escaped him, his pout adorable.

“You wanna’ be mine, Jackie?” You murmured, and he nodded in return. “Mmh- y-yes- wanna’ be yours.” His bottom lip wobbling, his hiccups were quiet. Little soft sniffles that seeped into you like a drug.

You grinned. “How bad?” The sudden grip on his pec was firm, making him gasp. “So-! So bad, please.” You were groping him everywhere.

Kneading at his tits, his biceps, feeling him up to your heart's content. You were ravenous, your hunger never-ending and insatiable.

“Ugh, so cute. I’m totally keeping you.” Then you wrapped a hand around his throat, an iron hold on his windpipe. “Open your mouth, pretty boy.” His tongue swirled out, glistening while you pitched forward.

You spit a fat glob into his mouth and moaned when he gulped, picking up the pace without a word. He practically arched off the linen. “Fuck- please- huh, f-fuck me please- so good. Feels s’good.” Jack had no idea what the fuck he was saying, the begs clawing their way up, driven by pure need alone.

His whines were lewd, pornographic, like he’d never heard. He had no idea he could even sound like this. Raw and visceral as he watched you ride him to Heaven's gate.

Your pussy was so wet, your arousal coating his hilt- he choked. “Cumming- cumming- nngh—” Running out of air, he garbled, drool bubbling at the corners of his mouth.

But you were a sadist, and his pathetic nature was too beautiful to end now. You had to stretch it out, savour his tears as if you were parched.

You began humping his cock roughly, molding your lips to his. He laced your tongues together, the striped muscle elongating to explore your mouth.

His glowing pupils had formed hearts when you finally released him with a syrupy smack, and you hummed, cooing. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me.” You clamped around him, ensnaring him with your cunt.

“You’re so fucking big- I gotta’ milk your pretty cock to make up for how selfish you are, Jackie.” He sobbed at that, the pleasure having his head spinning like a carousel. He’d just poured a load inside you, and you were already forcing another one out of him.

He thinks he’s dying. Jack genuinely believed you were going to send him to the afterlife with your cunt. Immortality be damned, this would be his demise.

Sensations he didn’t know existed had him gagging on his own saliva like a whore, his body going haywire at every corner.

“Oh, haah- look at me.” You gasped, palm pushing down even harder. His gaze snapped to meet yours, his lids fighting to stay open. It felt like he was going to explode, the mattress squeaking, the headboard battering into the wall.

His face paint had stained your skin, white and black slathered across your cheek and lips, proof of how you ravaged him. You were ruthless, abusing his oversensitive length with abandon. “Uh- mmh-” The noises you made weren’t helping his restraint at all.

Sickeningly sugary, filthy as you chased your own high. Your free hand joined the one at his neck, a collar crafted out of lust and possession. His legs shook, his abdomen painfully tight. “Who’s pussy is this?” You drawled, constricting his airways, and he slurred in response. “Ah- nnh- wha-?”

You slammed your cunt down, extra punishing. “Who’s fucking pussy is this, Jackie?” Your eyes were ice-cold, hips mean. He thrashed, his struggle to escape the stimulation useless. “I- nngh- uh- uh- m-mine?” You sneered.

Ramming your heat up and down his cock hard enough to make him convulse. “Say it like you mean it, big boy-” You snarled, making him scratch at your thighs. His lungs were about to collapse- and he could’ve sworn he didn’t need those. “I’m yours- you own this perfect fucking cunt.” Mercy was not a name you knew well, and he keened.

Panting, his vision blurred, the pressure in his skull a centimetre away from bursting. He flailed under you, slurring. “Y-Yes, ma’am! Huuh- fuck- fuckfuck-” His broken cries sent you over the edge, and you gasped.

Tensing, with your spine curving, you squirted around his girth. Soaking his pelvis and thighs, climax hitting you like lightning. He spurted gluey ropes inside your tunnel, stuffing you to the fucking brink- then he went limp. Chest heaving when you released his throat, he blinked slowly, dazed.

You pecked his jaw, dragging kisses up to his cheekbone. “Good boy. You’re like- so cutesy, y’know?” He exhaled shakily, his massive frame a dead weight.

Jack could barely reply, yet his weak attempt made you giggle anyway. “Mm, you’re super boyfriend material. I’ve been needing a strong man to help me relax.” He didn’t really understand what that meant, but he was glad you were happy.

His breathing slowed bit by bit while you spoke, an exhaustion he hadn’t felt in decades cementing him in place. The last time he was even close to this tire was when he went on that killing spree back in two thousand eight. And that was a full day of slaughter.

You must be a succubus. A higher-level demon. Some all-powerful monster with a pussy made out of soul-draining diamond.

“We should get matching PJ’s! It’d be fun, we can have a movie night tomorrow cause I’m off till Monday—”

And apparently, he was now your boyfriend. Jack supposed the weird human sayings were true after all.

You do miss all the shots you don’t take.

— ^ ^ —

LJ lovers I hope you are well fed.

[oneshotswander]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : The desert night is changing my destiny

> Or, you finally let yourself be sure of this new life. A way of life. Not just a job.

> Warnings: smut. everyone is pervy damn near all of the time. canon typical description of violence and murder.

Grinding, Car sex, fingering (r! rec.), Oral (r! rec), Spit

> Includes: sub!Toby Rodgers x dom!smart!reader. Reader has fem biology and no pronouns.

> Additional: Thank you to @portraitofalinkonfyre for helping me write this one (I don’t know how to write smut ‼️)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (here)

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The morning starts late. The kind of way it always does when you’re always staying up until 4am.

It was just the way of life you had to become accustomed to in order to live as a proxy. Most, if not all, work was done in the evening and night. Not that they couldn’t operate during the day —as they were certainly capable enough to do so— just that the cover of a setting sun and the stars gave more forgiveness than the blinding light. The vagueness of the shadows allowed the very delicate house of cards that you were now stacked within to stay just out of reach in the minds of normal people. Normal people like the person you once were.

This new way of life was a right of passage for every sorry soul under the employment of the operator— the adaptation to a life spent in murkiness. That you will no longer exist in certain, tangible terms. You are no longer the person you once were, no longer a name. You were an extension, a means to the ends.

It begins as just work. The one or two hits you had to handle, but eats into the hours you can afford to exist in. You realize that it’s not just aesthetics or ego that makes the majority of work take place past 7pm. It’s practicality— if you wanted to keep living in this life, as there was no past life to return to, then you’d just have to suck it up. Eventually, the once normal life spent within daylight is as foreign to you as being nocturnal once was.

You get used to looking out of your black-out curtains to an already pitch black forest.

You get used to shying away from the sun, the last sense of genuine warmth you had left.

You get used to the uncertainty —the vagueness of intention and of what exactly you were seeing— especially as it weaves into your entire experience living.

You wake up before Toby does. Not unusual.

Sunlight still diffuses out from the edges of the curtains, golden and slinking away. The room as just as jostled as you left it last night, haphazardly tripped through after the gas station run.

It’s not at all surprising. That is, if you ignored for a moment that you were pinned to the mattress by the fact he was sprawled out over you.

This wasn’t so normal. At least not in the sense that it happened often. Often, of course, meaning more than this one time.

While Toby certainly was affectionate to some stretch of the word —moreso than the others you could compare him to— he’d always slink off to sleep on his own. Even those first few nights you were kept tied up and observed, he never took a day shift. You’d never really seen him asleep.

So having him now: face stubbornly burrowed into your neck, body pinning you between the small spring mattress and a wall, was incredibly confusing to awake to.

It was a dull surprise to you. Like finding that, after hours working at a problem, you’d given the wrong answer. You’d mistaken him. That although he showed more of himself to you than any other of your coworkers, and had begun to foster something akin to a friendship, he was still to be forever kept at a distance. A coworker. One of the men who’d kidnapped you.

You almost chuckled that it was “coworker” that came first.

You suppose it was normal in the sense— that this was simply another undefined part of your relationship to agonize over. Another instance for you to wonder what it meant, why he decided to drop his guards for you, only to settle on “probably nothing” while simultaneously ignoring that so many “nothings” surely had to be something.

This wasn’t a normal friendship activity because you weren’t normal friends. That was all.

It meant nothing that he’d pull you out of the holes you’d dug for yourself, or that he’d memorized what you wanted without being asked like the back of his hand, or that in moments like these you can feel that domestic life you once hoped for coming back to you. It meant nothing that, right about now, maybe you still hope for them with him.

It meant nothing because at the end of the night, neither of you could afford the clarity. That even if you could break away from your new life spent in code, crouched in the darkness, the two of you would never be free.

For some reason, you were here. And whatever reason that was, you were sure that your boss wouldn’t allow nor care for any silly mortal feelings to come between it and its goals.

He shudders against you, trying to find you for comfort, moving to pin you further. There are less efficient therapy dogs, you’re sure. Still, you can’t help but sigh, tangling a hand into his hair and returning him to the spot of your neck he’d claimed. A heavy sigh leaves him, coming out more as a long groan. How you envy his ability to sleep so well, to ignore the world outside. To ignore the fact he was drooling all over your neck.

Your fingers fiddle with his hair out of habit. You’re not even sure if he can feel it. You’re not even sure to what extent he can really feel at all.

Regardless, it provided some relief. That despite your eyes tracing the water damage and the cracks on the textured ceiling, you weren’t so alone anymore. Even if neither of you could be free, you felt free enough here.

Damn him, constantly inspiring hope for a fulfilling life. How dare he. He’s not even awake this time.

You actually laugh now, trying your hardest to not awake Toby as he sleeps, silently shuddering. He protests, shoving his forehead further down to be closer still, and hands practically strangling you wherever they could grab.

You think you hear him mumble something about five more minutes.

If only you could give them to him.

The door rattles when it’s knocked on, old past its use. There’s hardly even a second before the light from the hallway spills into the dim room, Brian taking up the doorway. He takes a step in, preoccupied with his keys, fiddling with the ring.

He stops dead in his tracks, literally and you’re sure mentally.

You can’t see his face. But you don’t really need to in order to understand the thoughts running through his head. The sarcastic greeting he had now dead on his tongue, trailing off and mangled.

“I’m just as confused as you are” The assurance is met with a defeated exhale, mixing with a humour equally as exhausted.

“Sure. What- Whatever floats your boat. I don’t-“ He pinches his nose overtop the mask, far past the point of reckoning with the odd sight in front of him. Toby starfished over you, covers kicked off, your own absolute “I-don’t-know-what-this-is-so-don’t-ask-me” look on your face.

“…Are we waking him up?” You pose it less of a question of if he needs to be awake and more of if he’s even able to be awoken.

“Well” Brian shifts his weight onto one foot and occupies himself with his truck keys again, missing the flash of guilt that overcomes you for a brief moment. “It’s for both of ya’ really. I don’t care”

“Oh?” You try to sit up. It’s pretty impossible with the effort Toby puts up against it. “I’ll… pass on the message?”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “There’s a group a guys on the edge of town tryna figure this shit out. Persistent bastards. Boss wants em gone”

You nod, not that another option is available to you.

“Drive out whenever you want. Just get em gone however ya can” He loosely chucks his keys at you, missing your chin in favor of hitting Toby on the top of his head.

“We’re- driving your truck?” You glance at the keys and then to a still sleeping Toby.

“You are driving my truck.” He clarifies, jabbing a finger at you in finality, “I’ve been up through the last two mornings. I’d sooner drive us into a tree”

“Huh” You hum, without being able to stop yourself. He just stares at you, eating at you to go on “Who’d’ve thought you cared about our safety”

“I don’t. I don’t wanna crash my truck.” Yeah so much about warm and fuzzy.

“Yeah whatever, go to bed old man” He scoffs, leaving and shutting the door behind him. You wait for the doorframe to fall dramatically, but it never does.

“What-t j-just happened?” Toby doesn’t even lift his head, instead opting to mumble incoherently into your skin. His hands trace over you closely, checking that you’re still there as he remembers.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your voice is short, choked as he settles down again, the palm of his hand rested against the curve of your chest.

“O-Ok.” And he’s asleep again.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

The scent of cigarettes and horrible relationship choices hangs heavy in the front bench seat of Brian’s shuddering truck.

The road, lined with trees that occasionally fork outward into thin gravel paths, stretches on like a promise, down to the last cratered pothole and roadside animal corpse. Nickleback’s “If Everyone Cared” filters softly through the crackling speakers.

It’s been silent for approximately two hours, seven minutes, and twelve seconds. Not that you’re counting; or using the tactical-grade watch strapped to your wrist to watch as time ticks by without you, halfheartedly swallowing against the dryness settling in your throat.

If you’re quiet; really quiet, deathly quiet, you can hear Toby. Hear his breath, scraggly through that cringe rendition of a dog muzzle, and see the subtle taps of rough fingers against an even rougher gearshift. God— for how much Brian loved the truck it really was beaten.

He goes quiet, too, as if listening in turn. As if feeling that heaviness of your attention and finally stared back down the barrel of the gun. As if memorizing the frantic beat in your chest that simply refuses to calm. As if he can hear your apprehension and smell the slick between your thighs as your eyes covertly track the corded muscles of those damn forearms.

You really ought to be paying attention to the road.

Or the poor poor souls you’re about to be confronted with, to kill.

But no. Another flash of heat races over you, despite the old ac whirring on blast, settling low in your stomach.

He had to know what he was doing. His hands wandering after he woke up, whining like that when you had to go, watching you change into his clothes when you caved. It was like he’d realized that you weren’t going to question him— if he got greedy.

And greedy he was.

The gum in your mouth doesn’t taste like anything anymore. It doesn’t even serve to be a distraction. His leg juts out and immediately, your eyes are drawn to just below the belt towards the worn denim.

God, you feel like such a pervert.

Just to be clear— it wasn’t as if Toby were exactly any better. He woke up, hips flush against yours, face damn near at your breast, while his hands actually occupied themselves with it.

He’s not sure what he expected. To be kicked out of his own room? To never to see you again? He wouldn’t have judged you.

Especially not with the tent that was already forming in his pants.

But no. You didn’t even acknowledge it. Not in embarrassment, but truly at peace with the fact that he —your closest friend— was a dirty fucking pervert. You humored his whines to keep you close, down to the ten ish minutes it’d take for you to put on fresh clothes and gather your stuff. You even pretended not to notice that he’d been sneaking looks as you’d changed.

But of course you noticed. You always did.

He was uniquely thankful there was such a stretch of road for you to pay attention to, such that you couldn’t see he was already hard again. That there was music on the radio and new scenery to draw your notice. Covering you from his obvious… situation. Oblivious even to the sweat trailing down your jaw, along your neck and into your shirt —his shirt— as you chewed on your gum.

Surely you knew. Surely you knew what a horrible person you were temping him to be.

He was already the type of person that jerked off to his best friend. Who he kidnapped, mind you.

He was already the type of person that would hump at his pillow when the thought of your hands didn’t work, whining in embarrassment, as if that keen judgement of yours was always watching.

Surely you knew, that if you didn’t quit it, he might actually let himself be yours.

Neither of you were used to just: sitting in silence. Neither of you were ever good at acknowledging the tension that slowly built between you. Neither of you were even particularly talented at hiding the fact you were only getting more and more tense by the second.

By the time the truck rolled into its spot nestled between two large pines, both of you needed to let off some steam.

It was immediately hard to tell what was ground and what was sky once you got out. Even the world around you was disoriented, adding to the conflict that only barely joined the arousal. The sky was already dark and angry, ready to break with that heavy summer rain. The humidity swallowed you, suffocating you on all sides with the energy of what was to come, filling your lungs.

You had never been so immersed in a job. You’d never let it be anything more than that— a job. A biding of your time.

The feeling sat unsteady in your chest, settling atop the still burning heat in your gut. Brewing the dangerously impulsive urge to act on something other than logic for once in this new life.

Your “victims” weren’t exactly making it an easy affair either. The type of man-children that took the night to get piss-drunk before they were to start investigating the woods. It was laughable. They knew these woods were dangerous. The danger was staring them down. Yet still here they were, making sloppy work of themselves in their last moments, lounging around a makeshift bonfire.

Houses this close to the woods normally don’t have anything to inspire sitting outside— the owners know better than to invite attention to themselves. It’s already bad enough to live out here, it’s better not to go about showing your face every night.

This particular house shared this feature: notably lacking any overhang, patio, or even a grill.

Still, these bozos decided to trample the grass and gather enough rocks and wood to make a decently sized fire. As the night settled their gathering roared, the orange light lapping at the surrounding wood, being the only distinguishing factor from the dark clouds looming above.

You look over to Toby, who stands amid the light while you try your best to hug the shadows. The light was half-dying by the time it reached him, but still illuminated enough.

Enough to see that he didn’t even spare a glance for the fools not even 50 feet away.

Instead, his one track mind was zeroed in on you. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume Brian gave you this mission so you two could just fuck already.

If he didn’t quit looking at you like that, the thought passes your mind that you just might. The thought sits intoxicating, running on loop, while you feel that familiar dull burning of desire return. All that observation, the notes you’d made about the glorified frat-bros who were about to meet their end was thrown away.

“What- am I supposed to be making a plan?” You prompt him to do anything else, looking back towards the 8 men lounging. Begging him to give up the hold on each of your senses. For just how much you wanted to hear and taste and touch him again. A hand grasps at your neck, thumb trailing along the curve of the tense muscles.

You almost feel pathetic for how wet it makes you.

His hands are rough, of course. Years of mostly wielding hatchets does do that, one would assume. You fail at shoving down the well-treaded thought of how they’d feel, pulling you apart from the inside out.

His fingers individually test applying pressure, testing what brings your attention back to him. And oh— what a sight it is when you do. The look of devotion is the type you only see of someone who’s on their knees. His chin is tilted, forcing him to look up at you, lips pursed in some sense of awe.

As far as Toby was concerned, he’d been forgiven of his sins. God had looked past his transgressions and blessed him with this moment. You, in his clothes, both so dialed in and so unable to focus. Your attention was so keen, so sharp already, that you’d bend the world to your will— him with it.

Maybe you were god.

It’d make an awful lot of sense. He wouldn’t mind being religious, not so long as he had your attention.

That heavy attention that never failed to find him. To put him back in his place.

Your lips turn to a grin, satisfied. That someone you know for a fact to be so dangerous looks ready to grovel at your feet for approval.

The thrum of your watch stays steady. That look in your eyes returns, steady as ever.

God, his knees feel weak.

“Whoever gets the most wins?” You pose, breaking whatever odd stupor Toby had gotten himself into. You’re so occupied with his eyes you miss the effect your challenge had on him.

“There’s an-an even nuh-number?” He argues, only if to see you find some way to correct him.

“Guess we’ll just try harder then, won’t we?” He laughs, leaning into his hand and stumbling forward, his elbow now at your shoulder.

“A-and what wou-would I win?” He tilts his head to hide the rough jerk of his neck.

“Guess that’s something the winner gets to pick then, hm?” You tilt your head to match, readying yourself to face the target practice.

You take a step into the light, accepting the job. The challenge. The surety of something more for once.

A mission has never gone so fast. Man after man.

Ducking under arms jabbing broken bear bottles and shitty hunting knives.

The satisfying spurt of muddy red covering their makeshift camp site.

The distant roar of thunder joining in on the chorus of your own blood rushing past your ears.

The work is messy and loud and competitive— almost akin to a high: settling in your head, blocking each fine tuned calculation you’d normally make in favor of your single goal of winning.

Giddiness settles beneath your sternum, setting alight the nerves and leaving behind hunger. To win. To finally get an answer out of Toby.

The men, despite their number, don’t pose much a difficult challenge. By the time you finish, you’re both on opposite sides of their camp, gasping for more of the thick humid air to choke you from the inside.

You don’t notice it until you need to pause and breathe properly that you’re laughing. Head bared to the sky and giggling manically.

5 men. You’d killed 5 of the 8 men.

The sky finally breaks, a stay fat drop of water sizzling on their fire.

A few more diluting the sticky blood that seeps into the ground.

A sprinkling beginning to draw trails in the red splattering that won’t drip off your skin.

By the time it starts raining in earnest, you both are running back to the truck in a euphoric high of laughing. The doors slam, but you don’t turn on the car.

In weather like this, no one’s going to come for them. Too much of a hassle for the drive, and with the heavy rain your tracks are sure to be covered with the mud. By the time the storm is sure to clear it’ll have been like you were never there.

There was no harm in sticking around a little while more.

Toby’s in no better condition than you are— soaked through with the blood, rain trails and dirt breaking up the splatter. He’s similarly loopy off the kills and the challenge, not even noting that he’s lost.

All there was in this moment was the stuffy beaten truck and the keen awareness of the other across the console. Sneaking looks and pretending that neither care.

The laughter fades off into intermittent giggling, like you’d both gotten away with the best inside joke of your lives. It sure felt like it.

Afterall, you got to see him in a soaked through t-shirt that clung to his frame.

You truly were a criminal mastermind.

Once the fit of giggling wears off, it hits him that he actually lost. You see it in real time, the small widening of his eyes, the bob in his throat. The idea settled on top of that giddy excitement.

That you’d have your way with him.

The thought is immediately too exciting, given that he doesn’t even know what passes through your divine judgement. But the immediate squirm of his hips once the idea passes his mind is enough to know he’s actually excited to have lost. That you knew now you had him at your mercy, at your beck and call, practically grinding at your leg.

Literally, if that were your desire too.

“S-so, then” He shoves down the thought, ignoring the immediate flooding of heat to- “What’re y-you goin t-to claim then? Wh-What’d y’ win?”

You look back at him, immediately making him double check the existence of mind reading.

In that one moment of you finally, finally looking at him. He’s convinced you knew everything. Every night he’d whined your name into an empty room, begging that maybe you’d know and take pity. But he doesn’t feel you have pity now, looking at him like the loser he is.

You hum and haw, drawing it out— considering your options while he tried to ignore the increasingly difficult urge to try and get off without you noticing.

“Back of the truck” He’s sure he looks comically disappointed. Pouting, puppy-eyed, and ready to beg you to stay near. That the small distance was already killing him, don’t send him even further.

Right up until you get out to hop in the back too.

He makes eager work of the door to get in. You meet him on the other side, clawing off his mouth guard to get access. His mouth is hardly free for a second before you’re there. Snuffing out his senses and filling them back up with you. Immediately he’s hit with the addictive taste of you in his mouth, the scent of you beneath the irony blood crowding his space, and the one hand that isn’t on his jaw eagerly finding the bone of his hip.

His back is shoved against the door he just got in on, kneeling, head tilted back to the angle you desire from him. It’s difficult to miss his shameful desire like this, hips shoved out and back pressed against a wall— not to mention the downright pathetic whine he lets out.

Well, all of that that on top of the raging hard-on beneath his pants.

Spit leaks out the gash on his cheek, adding to the already messy affair. You separate only to gasp for air, hands keeping him where you wanted him— hands either side his jaw.

“Pl-lease-“ You hardly let him get the word out, already moving to shut him back up by the time he gasps a breath “Pleasepleaseplease- I I n-need you-“

He’s so pretty like this, flushed and without a single thought running through his head that isn’t you.

You tilt his head to catch what little and dim light you’re left with, admiring the trial of spit leading down to his chin and now finding his neck. You lean down before you can stop yourself.

Your tongue traces the trail, picking up the frothy spit alongside the blood and salt of his skin.

Immediately, as soon as your tongue meets his skin, he jolts. His hands press you closer, begging you to just stay there.A strangled whine leaves his throat, long and high pitched. Mixing in with his desperate begging. It’s as if the only words he knew were “please” and your name.

His hips buck upward, trying to find any friction they could with your own being so close. You move to keep him just far enough away, enjoying the furrow in his brow as he looks up at you.

“Wh-what- I,” You continue, lathing up the side of his neck before returning to his cheek. “M’ sorry, I-I’ll be good- I’ll be good! I won’t be gr-greedy”

His eyes are wild and crazed, brows cinched in a beg. Your tongue follows the trail up and up and up, along his neck and over his jaw. Finally finding his cheek, covered in a mix of your saliva and his.

You don’t make him utter the words, opting to hold his eye contact as you trace your tongue along the jagged scar.

Those pretty wide eyes roll back, fluttering with another buck of those hips. His breaths are ragged, shallow and unable to focus. You admire him, chewing on your long dead gum as he finally gives into finality. This wasn’t nothing, this couldn’t be nothing. Not when he nearly came to your tongue on his scar.

His eyes return to you, trying to distract you as he humps against the air for any sort of relief. You kiss him again, brief, leaving him chasing you with a whimper still lodged in his throat.

“Can you do me a favor?” You know you don't need to ask. But there’s still some satisfaction to be gained in his immediate fast nods.

“Open up” And he does,eyes still begging for your approval.

You lift up on your knees, kneeling over him as he desperately tries to offer his mouth up to you. You stick out your tongue letting you gum fall from your mouth to his.

The excitement is immediate, a half gasp followed by his zero-in on worshipping your gift.

“Thank-k you- G-god” He chokes, half occupied with you being so close and the other half occupied on your gum.

He’s so occupied, in fact, he doesn’t even realise your hand shaking down. It's as soon as your hand actually cups his cock over the jeans, that he shudders. A full body shudder as his body doesn’t know what else to do. His hips immediately and desperately try to fuck into your hand. His eyes were shut, lids fluttering still as desperate curses and moans left from his chest. Every shaky exhale was a plead to stay. A begging to let him live out the moment that had only played in his head until now.

His hand removes yours, shaky and just barely coming in time to stop himself from cumming again.

“No-not me f-first” He barely managed to get out, eyes still watering and hips still jerking at the empty air, begging for your hand. “Plea-se- Please, p-pretty ya got-gotta let-t me,” You place yours behind you on the seat and he immediately advances, shoving his face in your neck.

He lathes and sucks and licks and nips like it’ll be his last chance to ever mark you up.

His hands roam, grabbing there he pleases before finally getting to business. You only hear him quietly begging for you against your skin, the taste of him still clear in your head.

He struggles off your belt and pants, but pauses at the sight of you, only in underwear and his shirt, exposed before him.

You’ve seen people less praising in churches.

His hands work gently to spread your thighs so he can get a better view. Panties stuck to your skin, soaked with slick. He trails a hand inward from your knee, following up your thigh and finally up to your gushing heat. He tests you, pushing at the damp gusset, pushing it slightly aside to feel the warm slick.

There’s no other thoughts, no other intent. Just the dedication to finding what will make you feel good.

He revels in the jolt of your hips, in your own whines as they bubble up from your chest. He enjoys coaxing them out as those rough pads of his fingers circle your clit. It feels better than you imagined, only serving to make you more and more wet. He gathers up a decent amount, lifting it to his face to admire.

And admire he does, in the feeling of it, and the taste once he shoves his fingers in his mouth.

He could’ve sworn in that moment he was born again.

“Fu-ck, h-hun” The words are absent minded, unfiltered. “b-better than an-an-anything else”

He looks at you, eyes wide and pleading. “Pluh-please let m-me, I just wan-na have a a t-taste” He hangs on your breath, heaving and still dizzy from his teasing.

You can only manage a nod.

He hardly even thinks before throwing your legs over his shoulders and ridding you of your underwear too. He begs for you approval, your permission, and finds it in the form of your hand in his hair. You pull closer: and closer he got.

His nose nudges at your clit while he lathes away at every new gush of slick. He was exactly where he wanted to be. He could die like this, suffocating between your thighs— drowning in you and he’d be happy.

But even your breathy whines weren’t enough for him. Greedy as ever.

He brings up a hand to aid, easing in one finger to your cunt. He trails in across your thighs and through your folds, gathering up enough wetness to ease you to the sensation. He pauses once his finger catches your hole, clenching desperately on nothing. It slipped in easy, already loose from his tongue, aided by his spit and the slick. He prods gently, finding what motions stir you up most off reaction alone.

A second joins the first, just as easy. He reaches so much deeper and takes up so much more space its dizzying. The pressure has you raising your hips into the air, aiding him.

A third joins. The fit stretches out your walls, making you whine as he tries to slip it in alongside the others. He shushes you gently, “Ju-juust relax, baby. I g-got y-ya, Just-t relax f-f’ me.” the words alone summon a gush of hot slick from your pussy, helping distract you long enough for him to slip in.

Your words had tickled off into heady moans that let him know when he was doing something right. That each curl of his finger and suckle at your clit was exactly what the both of you had been needing for weeks at this point. Your hands pulled his face closer, hips raised and rocking in time with his curling fingers.

“Please” You manage, even though he’s far beyond being concerned about manners when he’s eating, “Just a little more-“

“Yes m-ma’am” His voice shook, head burrowing his face in deeper, working his fingers faster, and ignoring the burning knees for oxygen as your thighs clamped around his head. He couldn’t even hear your warning.

The gush of fresh hot slick is immediately clinging to his tongue as he works to clean you up. No regards to the overstimulation as you squirm in his hands. All he’s concerned about his the pretty hole in front of him and his new favorite meal. His hips ground against the seats, rocking as he kept going and going and going to sate himself.

“S-shit- please do-donn’t look a-away” He whines, eyes looking up for yours, hands on the outside of either thigh.

“I’m not” You assure, leaning back against the door, letting him work at himself desperately.

“Fu-uck, please-“ His eyes rolled back, busting himself again with cleaning you up.

“Go ahead, Hun” You tug at his hair, just barely shuffling your hips closer. He locks up, whining against you as he’s finally relieved.

He doesn’t even need his hands, just some of your slick and disapproving stare. It was enough to make him cum in his pants.

[catnip-plug]

You're fucked up (Ticci Toby x Reader NSFW)

guess who's back to post an old ass fic from YEARS ago. just bc.

as always: porn w/o plot, dom!toby, biting, dirty (weird) talk, toby is like a virgin, also he's a creep, reader is lwk fucked up (hey the title!), fingering, p in v, kidnapping, extreme dub con....

severe cw: this is super old and sucks!

The night was quiet, occasional crickets being heard outside your window. The cool breeze spread throughout your room; it was a hot day today. As was normal for the month of June. You were sleeping peacefully in the comfy sheets of your bed, in a deep slumber.

You didn’t notice the man leaping in through your window. You didn't hear the quiet, almost ghost-like footsteps as he approached your bed. You didn't even catch the faint giggle that left his mouth, nor the cracks of his neck as he jerked slightly.

No, what you felt was hands suddenly on you, rough but with a goal. Startled from your sleep, you immediately tried to shout, but your scream was cut short by a hand being slapped on your mouth. You bit down, but the hand did not retract.

Adrenaline coursed through your body, your fight or flight response kicking in. Nothing else was on your mind, nothing other than the need to escape and survive. But honestly, you weren't some skilled martial artist, or defense expert. You couldn't twist his arm with ease or hit him in a spot you know would hurt, although it seemed like your attacker had an insane pain tolerance, given he didn't even react to your bite. It took a clear head to do that, to defend yourself like that, and right now you didn't really have one. Could anyone blame you?

With the need to prevail, you thrashed around wildly like an animal caught in a net. Your muffled shouts hardly echoed through the room, pleas silenced by the choking force pushing down on you, suffocating. Dead. You were going to die here. That was a given. Lack of oxygen finally reached your brain, knocking you out slowly and painfully. Your eyelids fluttered shut as your room blurred and faded away.

Waking up was not so graceful. A painful slap struck across your face, surely leaving a red mark. It stung.

You couldn't say anything about your rude awakening, too shocked to form words. As your vision focused, a brown and orange blob began to take form in front of your eyes. It was a boy – no, a man, with unruly brown hair and bright orange goggles concealing his peering eyes. Oh, and a mouthguard shaped in the form of a smile. His face was effectively covered completely except for his sloped nose that curved slightly upward, which was currently too close to your face for comfort.

You instinctively moved your face back, hands about to shoot up to give even more distance between the man and yourself. But, a strain against your arms stopped any movement. Rope. You were tied, tight, with rough material that rubbed your skin raw with each wriggle. Even worse that you were sat the cold wooden floor with no chance of being able to stand, legs tied together as well.

"F-fff-finally awa-awake, huh?" The guy's voice startled you. It sounded shockly boylike, younger than the age you had pinned him to be. It was also heavily broken up with stutters that you couldn't ignore. His neck would crack violently, and his shoulder would roll, another thing you had to notice. He was staring at you, sitting on his knees in front of you, but your mouth felt dry, and there were too many words swimming around your head to form a complete sentence. When you didn't say anything, he tried again.

"Not muh-much of a ttt-talker??" His head tilted like a curious puppy as he awaited your response.

You swallowed before answering. "What—who are you?" Stick to one question at a time.

But it seemed he didn't feel like answering that one right now, so he simply stared at you again. Feeling frustrated, you spoke once more.

"What do you want?" Your voice sounded more frantic, more pressing.

"Well, I wuh-wanted tttt-to kill y-you," he said plainly. The smile on his mouthguard was starting to become his actual smile to your brain, and you could practically hear the smug grin in his voice. Your stomach dropped at his words, and you writhed in your restraints. But it only served to hurt you, to exhaust you more.

The man shook his head in an almost disappointed way. "Tsk tsk. If y-you keep muh-moving aro-around, you'll hhhh-hurt yourself," He chided, hands ghosting around your skin like he was making sure you weren't injured. Why does he care? What's going on?

His hands suddenly stopped, and he stared at you once more, like he was in thought. It was creepy.

"I www-was guh-going to kill you," he stammered, and beneath those goggles his eyes raked your form and studied your face, "but yy-yyou're quite puh-pretty."

Speechless, your eyes flew from his face to his too-near hands. In one swift motion, the man pulled up his goggles and pulled down his mouthguard. You didn't even get a moment to glance at his face before his head dipped forward, nestling into the crook of your neck.

He inhaled deeply like in a reverie. Immediately your whole body tensed, and you seemed to shrink into yourself, breath catching in your throat. What the fuck?

"A-and you sm-smell good, tuh-too." His head backed up, much to your relief, giving you more space to breathe. It was hard to, though, his words sending shivers of disgust mixed with fear down your spine. With him thankfully backing up, you could finally see his face in full detail. His features were young, betraying his age. He couldn't have been older than nineteen, with thin pink lips that were curved into a smile and thick eyebrows. His brown eyes had dark bags underneath like he hadn't slept in days, an eccentric look in his pupils that frightened you. But the most notable thing was the large gash on his left cheek. His teeth showed in gruesome detail, gums shining pink. All of your attention was drawn to that macabre injury, but not for long.

Again, without warning, the boy leaned in way too close for comfort, sniffing your scent. His warm breath washed over your neck, sending goosebumps pricking your skin. You were scared. Every muscle, every nerve, was tight, tense. You backed up more and more everytime his body pushed in closer and closer. He wanted to press his body flush against yours, and he didn't know why.

You tried to put some distance between you two, but there was only so much you could do with your limbs tied tight to your body. And now, you found yourself at a loss for words. Nothing was coming out, and you were subconsciously holding your breath, biting back any words that might have escaped.

The situation reminded you of a dog sniffing out an opossum playing dead. You were afraid that any bold movement might lead to something terrible.

When he pulled away, you were still taut. It didn’t feel safe to breathe yet. You watched him with a hawk-like gaze, keeping him in your vision at all cost.

"Yyy-you're really pret-pretty..." He murmured.

He peered at you, leaning his head in with a special kind of fascination, but you weren't fooled. You could see the twinkle in his eyes. It wasn't anything good.

Your voice sounded hoarse when you spoke. "What..." It was really all you could say. None of this was making sense, and the fear pulsing through your veins made it hard to think rationally. When he leaned in for the third time, you expected him to go for the neck again. But instead, his left hand rose up to cup your face gently. You flinched away instinctively, his fingers cold and clammy. And unexpectedly, he placed his lips on yours.

They were rough and chapped, pressed against yours with surprising tenderness. Tied up, there wasn't much you could do except watch in muted fear. His eyelids fluttered while shut, lashes thick and dark. The boy pulled back after a short moment, gauging the emotions that flashed on your face.

A tight-lipped smile formed on his mouth. "Wuh-would you ev-ever date suh-someone like mm-me?" His voice wobbled with each tic that racked his body. It felt like a quiz. Like if you gave the wrong answer, you'd fail. And you weren't too keen on figuring out what failing meant.

Unable to hold your tongue, you bit back. "You mean a murderer?"

You regretted it immediately upon seeing the glint in his eyes, the psychotic glee seeping past his control. But you meant it. His intention, whether it had changed or not, was still looming over your mind like a storm cloud.

The boy grinned and in return kissed you again, fiercely this time. There was no gentleness in this one. It was aggressive. Forceful. He even placed a hand behind your head to keep you from falling back.

It was obvious he was inexperienced, sloppily lapping at your mouth with enthusiasm. He only pulled back to give you air, his own body pressed close against yours. Your chest heaved with the effort of trying to draw in breaths, and your eyes flitted from his wet lips to his shaking hands that inched down your body.

"What are you doing?" You breathed, watching him with wide eyes.

He shook his head, too engrossed in his own thoughts. "S-such a sh-shame..." He muttered under his breath. You didn't want to know what he meant by that.

With bated breath you watched as his hands snaked down to your crotch, fingers creeping over the fabric of your pants. But then he suddenly pulled them lower in the blink of an eye.

You gasped and almost fell flat on your side trying to scramble away, forgetting your legs were tied together at the ankles and arms tied to your side.

"What the hell?! Get away from me!" You shouted, face contorting into an expression of disgust. The guy didn't let your shrieks travel any farther in this empty cabin, though. He shut you up with his lips on yours, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. While he distracted you up there, his hand shot down to your crotch, fingers ghosting over your clit. You gasped into his mouth, your hips jerking with surprise. His rough but slender fingers sloppily glossed between your folds, gathering up whatever slick was there. You writhed in your restraints at the feeling, but unsurprisingly, he didn't let up, drinking up your groans with his mouth.

You don't know what possessed you, what controlled you at this point—maybe some primal lust or horniness—but for whatever reason, you slowed down. You stopped the violent struggle and sat relatively still, save for the occasional squirming. Surprised as he was, the boy was not going to let this chance pass by. He unlatched his lips from yours, turning his attention fully to your groin.

Slick coated his fingers in layers as he slid them through your folds. He watched with ragged breath, entranced. You stared at him in a state the mixture of shock and anticipation. After a minute, your eyes glanced back up to his face. There was fascination in his eyes, his cheeks and ears a rosy red.

Once he was satisfied, he carefully dipped two fingers into your heat. You sucked in a breath, caught off guard at the intrusion. His digits pumped in and out at a steady pace, occasionally curling. It was careful, like he was testing this out for the first time. The novice moves were enough for you, however. You whimpered under his touch, your breaths shaky. Somehow, watching as his fingers disappeared and reappeared increased your arousal, your cunt producing more juices.

"Wuh-wet..." He mumbled. Astute observation. Your warm, soft walls gripped around his fingers, molding to the shape. He couldn't help but wonder if it would do the same to his dick nestled in th—

The thought caused him to squeeze his legs together, trying to provide some friction to his already half-hard cock. The bulge in his jeans was quite easy to notice.

It was starting to get really hot in the stuffy room. A sheen of sweat glistened on your forehead. The brunette continued without pause, watching your face down to the minute details. Each curve of his fingers sent a spark of pleasure down your spine. And with another move, he accidently found your g-spot.

A broken moan espaced your mouth, a hot fire burning in your abdomen. And it didn't go unnoticed by him. He relentlessly fingered you, making sure to always reach that special spot he felt so lucky to have found.

"O-oh god..." Your voice wobbled at the end, vision getting hazy. The boy looked like he wanted to drink you up right now; he was practically drooling at the sight, his uneven breathing almost rivaling yours. With the heat and the rope both making you feel suffocated, things were getting frustrating.

The only sound filling the room was your quiet moans and whimpers.

"Toby," he suddenly blurted out. "My nuh-name is T-Toby."

Your raised your head lazily in surprise. But he didn't even give you time to respond. With a wide grin, he pushed his digits in deeper. They curled inside you with the purpose to make you cum, and it almost worked. It most certaintly led you closer to that breaking point.

"Toby..!!" You wailed, and now you realized why he had given you his name. He wanted you to moan it, to whine it in that sultry tone, that voice that was his doing.

He loved hearing his name come out of your mouth. It went straight to his dick, which strained painfully against his dark blue jeans. With determination and horniness burning in his eyes, he thrusted his fingers in farther and faster, making sure to curl them in just the right places. He was learning quick.

Your hips rolled forward—as best you could under restraints—with each pump he delivered, desperate for more, chasing that feeling growing in your core. You sucked in sharp and heavy breaths, whimpering embarrassingly. But that orgasm was building, and you didn't care if you were moaning like a pornstar for him to continue.

"God, pl-please... please, Toby.." you whined, wanting his slim fingers so deep inside you. That was probably the lust talking, but it worked either way. Saliva started to pool at the bottom of his mouth and he giggled, high-pitched, reminding you for a split second of his murderer status. Yet you couldn't focus on that for too long, because he got faster, fingering you like it was his life's mission. It felt thrilling, having someone completely under his control like you were right now. The feeling was addicting, running through his veins like adrenaline.

It wasn't long before a rush of pleasure engulfed your body like a tidal wave. You clenched around his digits as you came, dopamine rippling through your being. You rose down from your high slowly, panting, chest rising and falling.

A frenzied smile graced Toby's lips as he slowly slipped out his fingers. Your juices shone on them, and he gazed at the sight for an unnatural amount of time before sticking them in his mouth and lapping it up. He made sure not to miss a single spot, tongue gliding across his knuckles. He didn't even break eye contact, watching you squirm under his stare.

"You're ss-so cuh-cute when yy-you cum," he cooed, tilting his head in admiration. You would have never thought you'd blush at a killer's words, but here you were, blood rushing to your cheeks. Out of the graciousness of his heart, Toby quickly untied the ropes that bound you with clumsy, impatient hands. Immediately, you felt so much better not being tied up, your muscles relaxing from the strain. And yet still you didn't move. You were free now; why didn't you move?

Toby unzipped his jeans with all the excitement in the world, pulling his dick out of his boxers and eagerly stroking himself a couple of times. It was a decent length, pale like his skin and not super girthy. Precum that leaked from his flushed-red tip was generously slathered on his shaft, acting as lube. Another giggle slipped from his throat; his face burned staring down at your body, your entrance right there and perfectly wet. Without wasting a beat, he thrusted in you, bottoming out almost immediately. Your yelp of pain and shock drowned out the shaky groan he let out.

"Sh-shit, yyy-you're fucking tuh-tight," he breathed, his voice increasing in pitch at the very end of his sentence. Your walls immediately molded to his dick, soft muscle warm and embracing. You propped yourself up on shaking elbows, trying not to fall over. It hurt. He was sudden and fast and unpredictable. So it was no surprise that he didn't even give you time to adjust, pulling out and then slamming right back in. A gasp was ripped out of you, pain rippling in your abdomen. And he didn't let up, either. Toby continued with this brutal pace, pulling out nearly all the way and ramming in again as far as he could.

Through teary eyes, his features were getting blurry. But you couldn't miss the manic grin that he wore so well, his gash stretching wider. The twinkle in his eyes scared you.

Mid-thrust, Toby pulled out and dipped his body forward, mouth finding its way to your neck. You sucked in a breath at the feeling his hot tongue swiping across your collarbone, his cock sandwiched in between your bodies. Goosebumps pricked your skin. You fidgeted under him, faint sounds coming out of you.

Suddenly, he bit you, hard.

"AH!" You cried out in startled pain, hands flying out to his back in a feeble attempt to stop him.

Toby ignored you, lapping up the blood that seeped from the bite-shaped wound.

"S-so soft... I cuh-could b-break you ssss-so eas-easily... I could fff-fucking wreak y-you, k-kill you, you'd ne-never be aaa-able to do anyth-anything..." He purred, and you could feel him smile against your skin. It sent shivers down your spine. But at the same time, your cunt squeezed, aching for something to fill the emptiness. For his dick. Your racing heart betrayed the fear that fueled your arousal. He could surely feel it against his own chest pressed flush to yours. And feel it he did.

"That's wuh-what you luh-like, right? Ffff-for me tuh-to hhh-hurt you? To thre-threaten you? Y-you like it, ffffuck-fucking want it... sss-so badly..." He mumbled nonsense, increasing in fervor, hands slithering around your body and under your shirt. His warm breath washed over your neck and his breaths came fast and hard, practically panting as his passion increased.

You swallowed hard, anticipation building up in your core. The lanky brunette looked tense, his body tight as he tried restraining himself from completely ravishing you. Biting you too hard. Making your skin bruise. Making you bleed.

And you, you just wanted more. More of what, you didn't know. But as much as you told yourself you hated this situation, how wrong this whole ordeal was, your face was flushed with arousal and every sense was heightened. What was wrong with you?

Toby lined himself up with your entrance, biting his lip hard. He wasn't fazed by whatever pain he should have felt, and he didn't even notice when a drop of blood rolled down his chin. It was crimson like a dark rose, and the sight momentarily distracted you, only to give you a worse shock when Toby slid in abruptly again.

You moaned embarrassingly, throwing your head back to lay against the hardwood floor. Your cunt squeezed around him, happy to have been filled once again with his delicious size.

"O-oh god," Toby groaned, beginning his fast and sloppy pace. "Such a fff-fucking s-slut, muh-moaning sss-so loud ff-for my di-dick."

You were practically drenched at hearing his dirty talk, your previous cum and slick more than enough to slather his cock.

"I-it fits pp-pur-perfect, luh-like it was—nng—muh-made for me." His concentration was apparently not enough to dim the ever-growing grin spreading on his face from ear to ear. A furious red had blossomed on his cheeks, lust seeping from his auburn eyes. They were like pools of dark honey. Not very fitting of a deranged serial killer.

Toby leaned in close so his mouth was right next to your ear, heavy breaths drowning out all other noise.

"Tell muh-me, If-if I ch-chased you... h-hunted yyy-you down... wuh-would you rr-run?" He asked in a whispered tone. "Would y-you run away, ru-run aaa-as ff-fast as you cou-could... a-and then wuh-what? What wou-would you dd-do—hng—if I ccc-caught y-you?"

Was he expecting you to answer? Because you sure as hell couldn't. Not with him pounding into you, ramming your walls so deep you didn't even know possible. All you could focus on was the way the head of his dick dragged inside you.

"Y-you would prob-probably jj-just lie there l-like you duh-did now, you-you'd probably—hah—ttttt-take i-it like you aaa-are n-now. Wuh-wouldn't you? H-huh?" His voice hissed in your ear, cock twitching every time your pussy clenched—betraying your emotions. And yeah, it was so obvious you were probably going to cum soon with his words alone. His own voice was already wobbly and whiney.

Toby took your mouth in his with a wide smile, tipping your head back with the ferocity of his tongue, practically mauling you. And you let him. It was heated and passionate, and it felt like he was pouring all of his emotions into you. You gasped when he pulled away, head reeling from the lack of oxygen. It all felt so so good, like you were being transported to cloud nine or something.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna—gonna cum," you moaned, your gaze floating to ceiling as if you could see your orgasm right there in arms reach. Toby's eyes never left your face, but his thrusts were getting messier, less rhythmic—he was close too.

A couple seconds later, the most earth shattering orgasm racked your body, your cunt spasming around his cock and your legs tightening around him. You couldn't even cry out—your mouth agape and your vision blurred.

Toby threw a slew of curses under his breath—no way was he going to survive this.

"Oh- sh-shit," he stammered, hips stuttering like a malfunction. Thick, hot spurts of cum shot inside you, filling you up to the absolute brim. You felt so warm inside, and your hips attempted to jerk forward to get more and more of him, milking him completely dry. Embarrassingly whiney whimpers slipped out of Toby's mouth and he was so glad you were too fucked out to hear.

"F-fuck," he panted on top of you, almost toppling on you with the tremors of an orgasm still rendering his body weak.

When the both of you had recovered, you still had no energy in your body to do much of anything. So you just lied there. Tired. But there was an entire bliss of nothing in your brain. You felt so floaty, so out of it. The words killer or murderer never slipped in your mind. Or maybe it did. You really couldn't give a shit right now.

Toby's mumbles hardly registered in your mind. "You could wuh- work for luh-later," he muttered softly, his gaze pinning you down like a butterfly.

Shit.

[misthill]

There Goes My Cool| 2 - Toby

Pairing: Toby Rogers x reader SMAU Warnings: smut implied Synopsis: Toby takes a liking to the new recruit (you) Part 1 - Brian 18+ below the cut!

[aubzombie]

Ty for 10k followers on tt!!!

[violentdelights-violetends]

i’ve seen footage

reader x ticci toby

about the cute guy you met at the video rental shop you work at is a little strange behind the scenes.

cw obsessive behaviour, brief mention of r*pe in relation to a scene in a film

a/n what’s that? can’t tell! handheld dream, shot in hell <333 hehe had a long day today enjoy

part 1 (you’re here!) > part 2 > part 3 > part 4

[mogorified]

Ehe.....hehgegdhs.....brian....🤤🤤 ART BY ME (Insta/Tiktok: @mogorified)

[escapism432]

ᴛᴇxᴛꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛɪᴄᴄɪ ᴛᴏʙʏ

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