-You can make as many asks as you want ! However if you do WAYYY too much asks on a row I might sometimes skip you to write for others !
-Please please please don’t make me write in a hurry, I hate when ppl do that and it might make me delete the whole draft and block you.
-I do mostly FEM/NB reader because that’s what I’m used to/I use myself as a reference, so if you ask for a male reader I can try to write it but I apologize in advance if it’s a bit weird or sum !
-I have NO PROBLEM writing MLM and WLW, however, I won’t write any smut because I really suck at it, not knowing anatomy that well and ion wanna write bullshit (even WLM/MLW makes me struggle to be honest so I won’t be writing smut that much). If yall actually want me to, don’t expect it to be good, like at all.
-when I say SMUT and SUGGESTIVE, I mean two different things ! Suggestive won’t necessarily go into details like I won’t explicitly write the act (if it’s sex) itself ! I don’t know if that makes sense ? 😭
FANDOMS:
Creepypastas :
B.E.N. (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Dark Link (v. CRP) (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Ben Drowned (STRICTLY platonic)
Sally Williams (STRICTLY platonic)
Jeff the killer (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Liu Woods (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Laughing Jack (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Eyeless Jack (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
‘’Ticci’’ Toby (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Slenderman (Romantic/platonic)
Nina The Killer (Romantic/platonic)
Jane The Killer (FEM reader only. (Romantic/platonic)
Laughing Jill (Romantic/platonic)
LINKED UNIVERSE
Time (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Twilight (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Warriors (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Sky (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Legend (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Wild (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Four (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Wind (platonic)
THE LEGEND OF ZELDA
Link (Romantic/platonic/suggestive -> depends which Link)
Zelda (Romantic/platonic)
Dark Link (v. Tloz) (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Vaati (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Ghirahim (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
Midna (Romantic/platonic)
Sheikh (male v. Unless specified otherwise) (Romantic/platonic/suggestive)
NARUTO
Mostly anyone !!
You just have to specify which character, if they’re a minor, I will automatically make it non suggestive, may be romantic depending on the age of the character. (Cute innocent love aw)
WEEEEE, updated design for Four + a small expression sheet!
I decided to try my hand at TLOK style (is it obvious that I had a self-insert eight years ago?), and since I very much enjoyed it I think I'm gonna stick to it with the other boys as well. I'm just so hyped with the amount of avatar content we're getting this year that I can't help it
No new notes for this guy, other than 1). I made him even more jacked 'cause earthbenders are just built different (maaan Twilight's gonna be fun to draw); 2). I've added different patterns to his tunic and 3). he's got a kid design now!
I also want you to know that he is roughly 5 and a half heads tall and barely reaches Time's chest
Usually in bed, the most you get is heavy breathing and grunts if he’s dominant. Degrading with a sprinkle of praise, maybe a dragged out groan if it’s good.
But if you’re riding him with his wrists tied above his head, he gets whiny real fast. Especially if you’re edging him. He gets impatient, the denial getting to him about an hour in. His willpower isn’t weak exactly, it’s just that being inside you and knowing you can give him what he wants at any second makes him snappy.
After a certain point he loses his rasp a bit, too.
The base of it slowly becomes shaky, his once rough baritone cracking. His brows knot up when he glares at you, irritated. “You’re such a cunt.” He’ll snarl, bark orders- but you know he doesn’t mean it.
Because slowly but surely, his resistance will chip. His insults will begin to dampen, going from cussing you out to trying to bargain for you to move. He’ll start squirming, bucking his hips up with an unsteady huff.
“C’mon- just fucking move-“ Face flushed, his cocky persona crumbling by the second. He’s so hard it hurts, and you’ve been edging him for hours. Humping his cock just right, and squeezing him the way you know he likes best.
He’ll go from laughing at you to pouting and denying it. You can see it so clearly on his face. The internal fight in his head.
He hates begging, so he’ll try convincing you every time. He’ll offer you head, tell you that if you let him cum, he’ll make it worth your while. Jeff will debate his own skills in bed with his eyes half-lidded, chest heaving and his muscles tensing against the restraints.
Then his pitch raises, his words tilt up at the end. He gets breathier, quieter and more needy. More restless and you’ll feel his thighs twitch under you.
His head tips further back, eyes struggling to stay open. Huffing faster and faster until it sounds like he’s on the brink of hysteria. And when you finally lift your hips to sink down on him to the hilt, his pupils roll up into his skull.
Jeff’s jaw falls slack, lips bitten red and parted as he pants. He says the things he usually does, but this time, they don’t seem as nearly as demanding. His voice comes out too soft, too unstable to carry the weight it normally holds.
“Y-Yeah, like that- fuck.” More of a hitched sigh than an instruction. His gaze is unfocused, spine arching off the mattress by an inch before he slumps back down. Like he so desperately wants to appear unbothered.
“Take it so good- keep going. Ah- shit.” It’s barely praise, talking just to talk. He’s rambling because if he doesn’t, the noises forcing up his throat will be too obvious. Because if he does, his desperation won’t make you hungry.
“Gonna’ cum. Mm- g-gonna’- hah- I’m-fuckfuck—“ It’s a plea and a warning in one. There’s a part of him that’s hooked on the withheld release, high off the power you have over him. He wants to fill you so badly it’s painful, yet there’s a whisper at the back of his head that begs you to hold off just a little longer.
When you’ve passed the fifth round of edging him, his speech grows incoherent. He turns almost silent, the only sounds escaping him clipped and slurred. Then, during the peak of it, mercy finally appetizing to you. The slam of your cunt not ceasing even though it’s clear his ability to stave off his climax is near its end— he’ll moan so loud his cadence becomes unrecognizable.
Throaty and wanton, his eyes cross before scrunching shut. “Shit- b-baby.” He’ll bite his lower lip just to gasp as his shoulders bow, head thrown back while he trembles. His pale skin has tinted with blush all over, his shoulders and chest dusted in pink.
Drool collects at the slits of his cheeks, mouth forming an ‘O when you grind down onto him. You fuck him through the orgasm, making it last until he’s writhing. He’ll hum into the kiss, but his tongue is halfway limp.
He’s too overwhelmed to properly reciprocate, and his lips aren’t closed enough to lock on yours. It’s sloppy, spit smearing everywhere. He’ll watch you through bleary eyes and try to chase you back up.
In those moments, he forgets to ignore how much he needs you. Forgets to suppress how terribly he wants you close. Jeff will whine openly if you pull away too soon, pout without trying to hide his face if you get “mean.”
He’ll rub his cheek against your palm when you cup his face, slurring something along the lines of “Why’d y’stop?” With the most doe-eyed expression you’ve ever witnessed. Sub space for him is rare, but when it settles in, it always shocks you.
He acts so uncharacteristically vulnerable, asking for your touch with such raw hope it makes your heart hurt. It’s a slip of his mask, and you get to see less of Jeff, the unfeeling, barbaric weapon- and more of the boy before the fire.
Someone exposed and in need of grounding. Wanting to be handled with warmth and care. His stamina remains high though, so you finish him off slowly.
No harsh riding or bouncing yourself to make him scream- instead, you roll your hips gently. Rocking yourself on his cock with your nose brushing his. Your palms cradle his cheeks, and you tell him all the sappy things he claims to hate.
You tell him he makes you feel good. You whisper that you love him against his lips, letting your breath mingle with his when he nods in response. You soothe your thumbs along the scars on his skin, and he angles his head to attempt to kiss you, even if he barely has the energy for it.
When he cums, it’s muted. A stuttered exhale, his voice cracking a tad. His lids flutter closed, and he’ll lean into you, mumbling inaudibly. He bucks up into you once, twice, before he goes boneless.
His eyes follow you while you slip off of him, pupils blown wide as you peck his forehead, settling onto your side to undo the rope. His arms slink down, Jeff immediately reaching for you.
You can’t even get up to grab a rag because he’s burying himself into your chest. He’ll lie there silent for at least twenty minutes before he regains self awareness, simply listening to your heart beat and humming once in a while if you talk.
He’ll scoot back a smidge after, still slightly dazed, and raise a brow at you like you were the one who did something unexpected.
“What?” As if you didn’t just feel him curl into you and sniffle. Yet you know him, and you’re aware that if you call him out, he’ll scoff.
You swipe the hair sticking to his forehead out of the way, toying with the ends, while he stares. It’s a special intimacy that arrives once in a blue moon, and on those nights, Jeff tells you things he promised to never say out loud.
Sometimes it’s memories of his mom, sometimes it’s a stupid fight he had with brother. Sometimes it’s random things he noticed about you.
Facts that you don’t remember talking about, habits you didn’t know you had. It makes you realize how perceptive he is, how much he actually pays attention to details that most people deemed unimportant.
He’ll draw shapes on your bare hip, and mutter dumb jokes into your hair. A lightness that doesn’t exist elsewhere, the walls he built absent.
Jeff doesn’t verbally say it back, but he’ll trace a heart onto your back when you tell him you love him without heat between you. His mouth won’t form the syllables, but he’ll kiss your crown longer than necessary, and exhale like he’s trying to breathe his intentions into you.
With fondness, allowing his sentiment to seep into your mind as you fall asleep. He loves you, too.
Request? Idea? What if we got saved by Dink but like, it was a total accident and he never even meant to save us. But either way we make it our mission to repay him~ if u know what I mean 😉
Oh, trust me, I do ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Death By Chocolate and Other Evil Anecdotes
Pairing: Dark Link x Reader
Warning(s): Death by chocolate ;))
Notes: I think y'all are gonna enjoy this one. Partially dedicated to @yourlocaltreesimp for inspiring me to crank this out <33
I like to keep my anons on their toes.
Masterlist
The first thing you noticed about the personified incarnation of evil was that his eyes were red.
Redder than blood, redder than the sky during those insane moons, and captivating in the sense that fear alone had left you totally and completely unable to fathom moving from your crouched spot on the cobblestone. Groceries scattered, nerves tense as you prepared for the fight of your life in the shoddiest alley you'd seen in your life. What had started as a regularly-scheduled trip to the backwaters of Hyrule for some long, thick leeks was turning into something entirely different, though you would be a liar in refusing to admit that, amidst the existential terror, there wasn't a bit of relief in your heart as his irises bore terrible holes into the very same organ.
It probably had something to do with the cooling bodies of the men who'd attempted to assault you on the way out of the market, but you were no genius. Probably.
"What the fuck are you staring at?" The evil version of Link, the Hero, growled. His teeth were white and lightly pointed, though hardly more so than the sharp taper of his ears. Thick, red-black blood coated his dark tunic, an iron-scented remnant of the carnage that had occurred moments earlier, and the sword in his left hand was similarly stained. He needed a bath—desperately, with the urgency of a teenager yet to leave home and learn basic hygiene, except it was wholly due to the fluids coating what you hoped was skin and not some clever illusion containing a demonic eldrich creature—but you felt as though telling him would not end well.
It was definitely the weapon. You also hoped the rumors were wrong about his apparent proclivities for hylian flesh.
Even so, he had saved you, cutting down those foul men as though they were nothing but flies, all the while murmuring about some kind of debt. You doubted he even noticed you were cowering against the masondry until the last one attempted to make a grab for your ankles, which promptly lashed out to break what you assumed was his nose. That had felt good.
Until you locked eyes with Dark Link.
The impatient raise of a white-tinted eyebrow snapped you from your thoughts.
You swallowed, not daring to make a grab for the precious leek lying two feet over. Did he consider vegetables weapons? Did you want to find out??
"Um," oh fuck, oh god, it was like he was seeing inside of you. That was weird, right? Red was such an unnerving color, especially when it was being directed at the quivering depths of your soul. Would he kill you if you screamed? Was there anything you could say to ensure the continued safety of yourself and your precious vegetables?
You swallowed.
Your throat was dry.
"Thank... you?"
The demon tilted his head, boots scuffing against the cobblestone as he turned to fully face you. The sun hung high in the sky, though the alley was quiet, and you couldn't imagine anyone coming across the scene. Perhaps the villagers would hear your screams, but it would be far too late by that point. You'd either be dead, dying, or eaten.
...Hylia, you really hoped he didn't eat people.
A burst of sunlight caught his stark hair, illuminating the silvery strands in a backdrop so beautiful it could have been stolen from heaven itself. Again, you gulped.
Dark Link was terrifying.
Dark Link was, coincidentally, also dashingly attractive.
It was very conflicting.
Lips that had no right being as plush as they were peeked open.
"How odd," mused the demon, drawing a half-step closer. If not for the pinched lines on his forehead, you would have thought he was amused. His sword glistened a wet crimson in the blinding light. "This is usually where the screaming begins."
There was something almost bored in the way he spoke, yet you didn't dare miss the sliver of intrigue nestled in a tone so dark. Still, it didn't seem like he was going to kill you yet, so you allowed your shoulders to un-hunch against the thick stone wall, knees losing the tightness keeping them pressed to your chest, though you maintained a steep bend in case a well-placed kick to the shins was required.
"Do you... want me to scream?" You squeaked tentatively, and immediately regretted it. That was practically an invitation, for Hylia's sake!
Dark Link's eyes narrowed to mere crimson slits. He stalked forward, until the blinding sun against his back forced a long, thick shadow to cast over your body. The air was so tense that a knife could have cut straight through it, leaving nothing but broken strings and halfhearted breaths while you wondered what you had done to deserve such a fate. Eventually, when he was close enough that you swore the threads of his white trousers were countable, a thick silence fell upon the alley. No one breathed. No one spoke. You couldn't even hazard a glance at the poor leek on the ground. At least one of you was meant to be eaten.
When the tension reached its boiling point, so had the demon's patience.
"I—"
"Please don't eat me!" You blurted, throwing your hands up to cover your face. It was the least you could do before being consumed.
Another silence settled over the alley, noticeably more uncomfortable than the first.
"...Excuse me?"
You could have cried, you really could have. An eye cracked open, only to shut again on account of the whithering gaze sent to you by none other than Dark Link. Was that you or did he look genuinely offended? When you failed to respond, there was a noise of digust, long and loud.
"I'm not a fucking cannibal."
You cracked both of your eyes open again. That was good. You didn't want to get eaten, though it still didn't save you from a similarly painful death.
"Oh."
Oh, for Hylia's sake—
A thick cringe escaped you. You sounded painfully terrified and it was clear as day, if he hadn't already noticed the hunched posture and curled fists. Was he into that? Did you care enough to find out?
"...Are you, um, going to...?" you trailed off, not quite brave enough to give him anything to work with.
The demon stood to his full height. He couldn't have been taller than you, but it didn't matter when he had a sword and you had your own sniveling will. Another sigh was exhaled, and a bloodied hand smeared a small amount of crimson on his cheek when he rubbed it. "Are you looking for death?"
"I'm looking for my vegetables," you admitted pitifully.
Dark Link's expression flicked to something resembling deep annoyance. He scanned the ground, eventually landing on the leek lying in a rapidly congealing pool of blood. You felt your soul die a bit when his lip curled.
"Disgusting."
On instinct, you opened your mouth to defend your purchase, only for it to snap shut when a thick veil of smoke erupted from the cobblestone, swirling around the length of his body before tightening in one magnificent motion, nearly blocking out your view of the sun in its terrible brilliance.
When it cleared, Dark Link was gone.
Your brain whirled at the single blue rupee sitting in place of his left boot.
The next time you saw Dark Link, it was in the forest outside your home. Baking was a guilty pleasure of yours, meaning you would go to the far ends of Hyrule in exchange for some cacao pods, but with Beedle the Traveling Merchant's invaluable business model, happiness was only a short walk from the safety of your porch.
Until the lizalfos' came, of course, because, really, when didn't they?
A terrible hissing noise filtered from beyond the pseudo-reliable wood of your door. You hissed a breath through your teeth and shoved the chair even harder beneath the knob, even as the hinges rattled and thick oak threatened to splinter beneath the heavy bangs landed upon it.
"Leave me the fuck alone!" you yelled, nearly tripping over yet another fallen leek in your haste to secure the perimeter. The door wouldn't last much longer, but you didn't care, scurrying to the small kitchen for a knife. At least you would die with dignity, this time.
Another screech rattled the air, but it sounded... different. Pained. You moved an inch forward, clutching the knife close to your heaving chest, and dared hope that someone had come. Anyone.
BANG!!
You nearly fell over when something thudded against the thick wood, and it was silent once more. Eerily silent.
Until you heard footsteps; loud, heavy... yet so distinctly unlike the scritch-thump of lizalfos talons that the sniveling hope in your chest fluttered, if only for a fleeting, wonderful moment before reality set in. Was this it? Was this death? You hadn't even perfected that chocolate chunk cookie recipe yet!!
The footsteps halted.
You waited.
A second ticked by. Then two, four, six...
Your heart nearly leapt from your throat when there was a soft knock on the door.
Did... did lizalfos' knock on doors now? Was that a new hunting strategy you were about to be made painfully—and literally—aware of? Maybe you should just pretend—
"There's no one home!"
—FUCK!
There was a pause. Then, the knock sounded again. You briefly wondered if suicide was the way to go, if only to spare your poor mind the embarrassment of having announced to a home intruder that you weren't home. Lovely.
But, seeing as death was likely around the corner, you slowly un-wedged the chain from beneath the door handle, slowly opening the door to reveal the shadowy figure of none other than Dark-fucking-Link.
The silence stretched for an eternity when your eyes met; narrowed crimson on... well, you were frankly a bit too terrified to consider the sordid meeting of gazes, but it was an interesting sentiment nonetheless.
"We really need to stop meeting like this," you croaked weakly, fingers curled around the doorframe, though what you really meant to say was we need to stop meeting. Immediately.
The demon huffed. He looked annoyed, though you were half convinced the pinched position of his brows and unimpressed scowl were chronic. Once again, a motherlode of dark blood coated his attire, and the stench of iron bordered on mind-numbing, but slamming the door on him seemed like a terrible course of action. Did that mean inviting him in would be more appropriate?
"...Can I help you?"
"I do not require your help," hissed the half-man-half-shadow before you. Still, he didn't look intent on moving anytime soon, and something told you he wouldn't be swayed if you decided to brandish a leek as a weapon. You doubted it would last against that sword, anyways.
When yet another beat of silence passed, you had enough. Donning your best unimpressed energy, you forced a mirroring scowl.
"Are you hungry?"
The demon blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused," you said without missing a beat, jerking your thumb towards the kitchen. "I'm making cookies. You're free to have one so long as my door stays on the hinges."
A shocked silence ensued, but you didn't wait up, turning on your heel and letting the door fall open in what had to be the most casual act of suicide in all of Hyrule. With luck, he'd be too weirded out to bother, and you'd get to live another day. Score!
Unfortunately, when the sound of booted footsteps stuttered behind you, you realized that the goddesses must either be dead, crazy, or laughing their holy little asses off at you. When you turned to grab the ingredients for the dough, there he was, standing in the middle of the floor like a lost child, if you could even call him that.
Nothing was said as you steadily pulled down the flour, sugar, yeast, chocolate... until everything was accounted for and Public Enemy #1 was still in your house waiting for chocolate chunk cookies.
"So," you let the word hang for a bit, grabbing a wooden bowl from the counter and cracking the first of two eggs into it. "Do you typically go around saving people or am I just unlucky?"
The demon snorted, shoulders losing a bit of their tenseness. Granted, he still looked ready to slice you to death on the hardwood, but you could handle those odds. "You're awfully mouthy for someone in your position," he pointed out. You weren't as scared as you should have been.
Crack, went the second egg as you lightly smashed the shell on the rim of the bowl. "...Would you prefer I scream?"
His answer was instantaneous. "No."
"Noted."
You added a generous amount of sugar to the mixture. Dark Link's stare went supernova, and you gasped fauxly. "Oh! You're not on a diet, are you?"
There was a beat as the demon in your home fought to regain his bearings. "What."
"I'll take that as a no," and, just to fuck with him, you poured two more spoonfuls. When no more judgemental gazes were issued, you shrugged and added one more. "You can sit at the table, if you want. Just don't get blood on any upholstery please."
It was probably the politest way you could have told someone not to bleed all over your stuff, but the sentiment remained intact. Dark Link's stare bore holes in your face, though it was hard to tell if it was bafflement or another emotion you didn't dare decipher. After what was quickly becoming a pattern of recurring tense moments, he moved to claim the chair closest to the door, sitting down with a noisy squelch that you desperately tried to ignore.
...How do you navigate this?
For several long, agonizing moments, the silence reigned supreme. it wasn't a problem, because any distraction capable of diverting your attention from the blood-caked half-man-half-shadow in your kitchen was a welcome one. It was only once the dough was mixed, balled, and dropped into the small pan did a rather rude cough interrupt the rather perilous dynamic.
You pivoted, hands covered in flour and heat-melted chocolate, and stared.
"...Do you need something?"
"You are strange," was the scourge of Hyrule's apparent realization of the morning, and it was so out of left field that you couldn't help but level him with another stare that couldn't help but be a bit judgmental. What was he expecting, to go deaf from all the proverbial screaming?
"So are you," you tried when he said nothing else. A gruff humph from the direction of the shadow-turned-hylian forced you to be a social person once more. "What brings you to my neck of the woods? I doubt it's my cooking."
Dark Link's brow crinkled in presumed disgust. Darn. "It's not, you vain mortal."
You shrugged, deeming it safe enough to turn your back long enough to toss the pan of half-formed cookies into the newly-roaring hearth. However terrifying the shadow-man in your home was, something told you that if he truly wanted you dead, you would have been a long time ago. Was he lonely? Carnally stunted? Unable to commit evil without sugar? The world may never know, but you sure as hell wanted to.
"You live alone," the shadow-dude observed after another painful silence.
You didn't bother with a glance, merely tossing your baking gloves off and leaning against the wall with a contemplative look at the ceiling and whatever mysteries it held. "Yup."
"Why?"
"So I don't have to interact with people," you said with a perfect deadpan. If he got the reference, Dark Link merely made another sour face and moved on with his arms-crossed viewing of your kitchen. You tried not to eye the large sword propped against his temporary seating arrangement as it dripped crimson liquid onto your floor.
The conversation was going nowhere. In what world was it acceptable to bake cookies for Hyrule's Most Wanted? Did you even care? Was this a hostage situation??
Well, you reasoned as the room began to feel a bit too small, at least he'll wait until the cookies are done before eviscerating me. You hoped. You really did.
Twenty minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Being the seasoned baker you were, it wasn't hard to notice the steady rise of the cookies, as well as the golden-browning edges and mouth-watering scent. Dark Link's eyes remained transfixed on the hearth as you pulled on your gloves once more, quickly grabbing the pan and placing it on the counter to cool, only pausing to spare him a glance in between eyeballing the validity of your creations, informing him with a vague: "They'll need about five minutes to cool."
The embodiment of evil said nothing. You didn't press; it probably wasn't a survivable encounter, anyway. With nothing else to do, you knelt and took hold of the poker resting beside the hearth. A soft sputter could be heard as you tapped at the burning embers, coaxing the fire to shrink, the action expedited by the generous dusting of ashes you gave it with the small shovel. The smell of melted chocolate filled the kitchen, wafting in the air as you stood, dusting your clothes free of any stray debris.
Another minute passed.
Your eyes flicked up to peer at the man sitting across the room.
You reached into the nearest drawer for something to scrape the cookies from the pan, landing on a wooden spatula that had definitely seen better days.
Dark Link's grip on his sword tightened. He was terribly unsubtle, but you kind of preferred it.
A soft scraaape filled the kitchen as you freed one of the outer cookies, taking the barest of moments to admire the pale gold crust and mouthwatering dollups of rich brown chocolate dotting the crumbly surface.
"Here," you crossed the kitchen in a few long steps, holding the cookie before you like an offering of peace or a particularly crummy shield.
For a moment, nothing moved. He didn't move, yet you refused to budge, leveraging the cookie with a bit more conviction until, finally, the chair squeaked lowly and a gloved hand reached to accept the gift. You watched with bated breath as a pair of beady crimson eyes regarded the creation with utmost scrutiny, so intense that you were sure his gaze alone could burn it to a crisp. Probably. You sure as hell felt heated when those blood-reds were staring you down.
Grayscale lips parted, revealing the sultry flash of pearly whites before they sunk into the sugary flesh of the cookie.
A second passed. Then two, and three, and f—
"This is..."
Your heart nearly leapt from your throat as you waited for the verdict, a bit about what it would mean for the immediate future, specifically pertaining to your life.
"...satisfactory."
Thank Hylia, you thought, shoulders falling nearly an inch as a hopeful sort of relaxation kicked in. It was the highest praise you could remember hearing, which meant a lot considering it was coming from a man who legend said liked to spend his free time desecrating villages and lives alike.
"Do you... want another?" You asked as the cookie was consumed in one large bite. Clearly, it was more than satisfactory, but there was no reason to push your luck.
A hand extended.
You immediately plopped another steaming delicacy in the center of his covered palm, which retracted at the speed of light as the demon tried and failed to hide how much he truly desired your cookie. The tension in the air seemed to lighten as the second treat was demolished, even more so when you had to foresight to scoop a third cookie and wordlessly point it in his direction.
Sacrilegiously, the legends had forgotten to mention the incarnation of evil's apparent sweet tooth.
"I have no interest in your moral frivolities," said the demon with a conviction so staunch you almost believed it.
You cocked a brow, feeling a bit more bold now that his sword was sheathed and your baking had apparently hit a soft spot. "Then... leave?"
Dark Link—the embodiment of.... evil??—haughtily shook his head and took another egregious mouthful of chocolate cookie goodness. "Nay," he said, chewing in what had to be the most obnoxious way possible. "You shall supply me with these... chunk creations."
Ah. Okay. At least he was eating something that wasn't you.
"Okay," you nodded along, not willing to entertain the risks sure to come from denying Dark Link of, well, not many people had met him and lived to tell the tale, but you were sure your end was just around the corner. It must have been a long corner, because the only violent action occurring was the crunch of his teeth against the cookie, which was hardly anything to write home about. "When do you, uh, want them?"
There was a beat as he processed your query, then a haughty sniff that had you wondering if violence really was the answer: "I shall return at midnight."
Goodie, was your first thought, followed by the haphazard wondering attributed to the supposed sleep schedule of someone like him. How many fingers would you lose at suggesting seven in the morning instead?
"...I'll be ready."
A crumb-encrusted hand patted your head in a manner that was so glaringly condescending that it nearly sent your sensibilities into a coma as the bastard shadow man grinned. "Good."
Your jaw nearly fell to the floor when he snagged two more cookies, shoved one into his mouth, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.
A blue rupee lay in his place.
You ran a hand down the center of your face.
That's a wrap! Hope y'all enjoyed my unofficial apology for the April Fool's fiasco 😭
with a final click to his controller, he'd won the game again. you stared at the screen in awe, feeling him triumphantly shuffle beside you, and when you glanced over at him you swore his head had grown bigger.
you scoffed and he crossed his arms.
"surprised?"
you shook your head no with a roll of your eyes. he laughed and reached for his controller again.
his attention avert back to the screen, and with a few clicks he returned to the main menu, and chose new game.
you knew exactly what he was doing.
"mm—mm, no"
you've told him you didn't play games like this, and the worry of embarrassing yourself in front of him with your skill level compared to his took over your worries.
"no!", he whined, grabbing your hand and placing the controller in your palm firmly,
-
heartbeat - childish gambino
another hangout rolls by, which was now much less of a tradition and more of a desire to let loose for the crowd. including you. they appreciated it, you learned.
however, being more involved at this time now meant you'd get to experience the true rowdy nature of the others.
jeff was mumbling to himself as he dozed on the couch with a bottle of cheap beer still in hand. he had to have been fighting someone in his dreams with the amount of vulgar phrases that slipped past his cut smile unrecognized.
toby slumped onto the couch from the floor, his drink toppled over and long forgotten on the hardwood ground. he had communicated quite enough that he was incapable of finishing it. you considered picking your tipsy self up to clean the mess for him.
“so much for riding the bus!”
ben slurs with a chuckle and stands from the floor, hovering over the two who held white flag.
-
twinks awakening - drama moth
he’d been extremely outgoing and rambunctious for the time you’d known him, but inside his own space was different.
in his space, he was cautious, a little on edge, maybe even nervous. he was quiter, more tame.
as you walked further into his room, shutting the door behind you, ben was immediately at work to reorganize. he was focused.
he grabbed things off his desk, bed, shelves, nightstand, throwing them into the closet or under the bed, and at a pace where you couldn’t even tell what they were.
it was a mix of him hiding things away, and cleaning up after a typical lazy mess of bottles and candy wrappers.
-
renegade - aaryan shah
the bed sunk gently beneath your weight, his doing the same as he sat close beside you.
deep talks with ben were rare. he was infamously unserious, so getting into a conversation with him that was anything aside from fucking around and finding out was an impressive achievement. but this made it all the more special, at least to you. it made you feel like you were special to him, being able to coax him so naturally into a deep talk. maybe being the only one to do so.
however, a conversation with ben wouldn’t be a conversation with ben if there wasn’t a hint of nonsense, or cracking a joke, him saying something so inadvertently perverted. or maybe it was on purpose. you didn’t fully know how his mind worked yet.
his hand came up to the blanket covering your leg, pulling it aside to take a peek.
“i didn’t know they even made shorts these damn short…”
you snicker and meet his eyes, he saw how your lashes shadowed your widely blown pupils, your head tilting enticingly as you stared up at him.
-
southbound - artemas
lanky fingers traced the inside of your thigh, teasing to breach your panties. he had that affect. he pushed boundaries, but to you, not in a way that was invading, but a way that was inviting.
your cunt pulsed behind the fabric, and almost like he could tell, like he could smell it, his fingers hooked around and pulled them down.
your arousal then proved itself with a string of your own slick connected to both your throbbing pussy and underwear. the feeling made your hips roll at the cold air.
as he pulled them father down your thigh, it had eventually snapped, but so did his patience.
they were pulled off your ankles, his fingers impatiently pressing against your sopping slit, painting circles as if he were trying to prove something you already believed.
-
in my mouth - black dresses
the air felt tight, but so were you, he preached.
his hips snapped at a fast pace, just as you suspected of him, cock plowing into you just as you’d shamelessly hoped for when your mind would wander aimlessly, and you’d only end up feeling sorry for yourself for even doing so.
he leaned forward, his shoulders just the right amount of broad to keep your legs pushed back while his tip drove into the spot that made you see stars.
but then he leaned back, whining pathetically as his thrusts grew sloppy.
he brought a sticky hand down to your lower tummy, and he pushed down on it, then pushed his hips as deep as he could.
your legs trembled, walls fluttering as if it was your way of begging for mercy without words.
hiii I saw requests were open so I wanted to know if you could write a ben with a clumsy (breaks everything and bumps against everything) and orange cat type of gf please ? <33 also a really touch starved and cuddly reader that likes to do embroidery please ??
Of course take your time with it and feel free to ignore it <33
Take care love 💕
(♡) Authors note; my first request in awhile!! I was genuinely so happy to see this :') sorry it took a little while but I LOVED WRITING THIS :3
୨ৎ
-BEN is a pretty chill guy. and by chill I mean high as fuck 24/7.
-on the rare occurrence of being sober, he'd match your energetic and chaotic personality!
-he tends to stay in his room all day traumatizing people on the internet and drinking ungodly amounts of energy drinks (his room is actually disgusting please help him clean it) because half of the mansion hates him for being an annoying little brat. except for Jeff tho, he somewhat tolerates BEN's antics.
-your energy and overall demeanor always helps him let loose and have fun instead of hiding away all the time.
-spending time together whether it's in or outside of his room always ends up being a disaster (in a good way)
-creeps just KNOW you two are up to no good whenever you're seen together.
-you always gotta end up in trouble. even if you attempted to do the simplest tasks such as...making a fucking sandwich. all of the sudden the toaster is somehow burnt, cheese is on the ceiling and about 25 cups are broken.
-which brings us to your clumsiness :) uh yeah he fucking loves it.
-laughs his fucking ass off instead of helping you. well, he does eventually, just let him finish being a little bitch and he'll half-assedly bandage any wounds or injuries you got.
-only if they're minor injuries!! if it's something major he'll be rushing you to EJ. also yeah anything that can't be fixed with a sonic bandaid is major to him.
-the good thing is he covers up for you if you end up breaking something so you wouldn't get in trouble. so there's that.
-he actually starts carrying around bandaids more often in case you get hurt which is sweet (Jeff teases him for it)(he's jealous he doesn't have a cool relationship like you two have)
-ALSO...IF ANYONE DARES TO MAKE A COMMENT ABOUT THE WAY YOU ACT HES GOING OFF...
-now as for the clingy part, he'll try to act nonchalant and unbothered like yeah sit on his lap or whatever (hes never been happier, on the verge of fucking tears)
-he quickly breaks from that act and immediately reciprocates your affection even if he's a little awkward about it.
-you're his first girlfriend, please be patient he'll get used to it eventually.
-he's down bad and it's painfully obvious.
-the first time you told him about your little embroidery hobby he legit took his pants off for you to embroider a cool design on it.
-mans stood in his boxers watching you like a hawk.
-even if you weren't carrying your tools with you, you WILL bring them whether you want to or not.
-he'd be so happy, jumping up and down, kicking his feet, gawking at the desgin you made for him.
-from that day and on he'd bring you whatever clothing item he has so you could do a little something to it :')
-might even consider letting you teach him a thing or two. only simple stuff or else he'll get frustrated.
-in conclusion: he finds you very cool and he's happy you two are together, you genuinely impacted his life positively <3
i used to write on wattpad but i stopped a while ago, butttt i still have a lot of drafts from books i’ve written and i’ve thought about revisiting them and revising. would yall be interested in stories on here too and not just smut/drabbles?
there’s hazbin hotel (angelxreader), legend of zelda (botw linkxreader), creepypasta (benxreader) etc
the idea of going back and just rewriting old stuff sounds fun 😛
Toby x like extreme Yandere reader headcanons 🤤 like she terrifies him from time to time with how much she knows about him, things that he’s never told anyone before. Like think An Unhealthy Obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra
- 🌷
— TOBY WITH AN EXTREMELY YANDERE READER
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is lowk shorter than I'd like it to be, like I have the ideas but I can't write them down for some reason. Also I'm gonna admit something, most of the time I'm just yapping here to make the paragraph longer because it looks better and less empty LMAO.
CHARACTERS: Toby Rogers
-I fear you're just drawing this man in even more rather than scaring him away - Toby is fucked up alright, he holds onto any crumb of love and appreciation he can get from anyone around him with a bruising and unrelenting grip. Treating him like a human being is enough to have him head over heels for you, like he'd literally fall in love with a cashier if they brushed their fingers against Toby's for like a split second when handing him change, that's how deprived and delusional he is.
-I should really talk more about Toby's fucked up side because if you're already extremely obsessed with him then you've done most of the hard and dirty work because in any other case, Toby would be a teeny tiny bit manipulative and hear me out on this - if he can have it his way, he’d convince you to cut the rest of society from your life, you don‘t need friends and family when you have him! He can be anything and everything you want all at once. He'd rather you give him your full undivided attention, his jealousy issues often spark arguments. And I don't mean any of that in a… controlling abusive way even though that's what it sounds like, he's just so pathetic and insecure he's afraid that one day you'll finally wake up and realize you deserve better than him, and replacing him is gonna be real fucking easy, at least in his opinion.
-Like you can mention a conversation you had with someone you know around him and Toby would get noticeably quiet and pouty, remembering that he's not the only person in your life makes him upset. You're quite literally his everything. His love is very raw, passionate, and obsessive - he is not normal about you at all.
-So if you're doing all of those things without him having to work for it? He's in heaven.
-I think the only time you'd truly freak him out is if you say anything that remotely hints at you knowing about his past, I know that Toby technically can't remember anything that happened but his body didn‘t forget, the mention of certain details is enough to flip his mood like a light switch even if he doesn’t exactly understand why he's feeling or reacting this way.
-So yeah that‘s the only time where he'd not tolerate your behavior, anything else is fair game.
-If anything he'd encourage it by purposely leaving some of his belongings in places where you'd see them so he can notice when you take stuff, makes him more giddy because he's aware of your little collecting habits and when they happen.
-I know that they're all crazy criminals with… questionable tendencies themselves but the other creeps have pointed out your weird behavior to Toby but he genuinely doesn’t give a fuck, i'm telling you this man is right where he wants to be.
-I imagine Toby to be the type of guy who'd do anything his partner asks him to do without even thinking about it, like he doesn’t hesitate whatsoever, so getting him to distance himself from anyone who got too close for your liking is fairly easy. Like you don‘t even have to bother resorting to physical violence with anyone because he'd listen to you without any trouble.
-He’d get all giggly and flustered finding the sticky notes that you leave all around the place to express your unhealthy devotion to him. He has designated a spot for your notes on the wall beside his bed so the first thing he can do as soon as he opens his eyes in the morning is remember your unwavering love for him.
-The most freaked out couple in all of America LMAO.
hiii question because i did not see it in your intro post!! Do you do those like groupchat texts posts? (Like creepypastas all interacting in a group chat or something?) if so i do have a request!
HI THEREEEE !!
Hmm well I have never tried before but I sure can !! However it may take me a little while because I have very little WiFi where I am at right now so it’s a bit hard for me to post/see everybody’s requests 😭😭
But im interested in the idea and might do some of them later heh..
──────────────────────────────────── 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!
─────────────────────────────────────────────
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!
Am I the only one who thinks the creepypasta fandom lowk complains a shit fucking ton? a lot of times for very valid reasons but I'm not talking about people who are speaking about the racism and sexism in the fandom, or the treatment that female creepypastas get compared to male creepypastas, or problematic headcanons... etc. I'm talking about the people complaining about "There's too much smut!" "There's not enough of (genre)" "There's not enough works of (insert gender or any physical attribute) reader!" THAT'S WHY WRITERS HAVE THEIR REQUESTS ON! There are thousands of writers out there willing to cater to what you want to see more of for free. So stop huffing and puffing and go support your fellow writers that are waiting to see a request in their inbox NEOW!!!
How would the creepypastas react to you doing their make up ? Would they even let you ?
Idea by my beautiful bby @nymph-ette111 ily twin !!
WARNING : hmm maybe a bit suggestive for some of em but nothing too much cuz it ain’t really em acting and it’s just em talking
PAIRINGS : B.E.N. ; Jeff The Killer ; Eyeless Jack ; ‘’Ticci’’ Toby
B.E.N.
-surprisingly he wouldn’t really be THAT much against it in my opinion. Like sure he’d whine a little about it.
-I mean, you’re interrupting him in the middle of a good game with an actual good team and lobby, who wouldn’t be mad ?
-everything depends on his mood.
-if he is reluctant about it ?
-he’ll make you sit on his lap while he’s at his desk or…what ? He’s already letting you do his make up, he’s not going to also get up and walk ALL THE WAY over where you’re sitting !!
-he can fly ? Yeah, true, he can. But why would he ?
-he’d have his hands on your waist while you straddle him and let you do your shit.
-of course, you won’t be escaping the occasional tickles to distract you from your work. That fucking little shit. Fuck
-if he’s in a good mood or feeling like bonding with his lover tho ?
-he’d help you gather your makeup and put everything on the bed while asking about the things he doesn’t know about.
-‘’What’s this ? No, not the highlighter dude, the cylindrical thingy.’’
-oh that was bronzer and not highlighter ? He knew it. Shut up, he’s trying to bond okay ?
-I think he’d have a pretty ticklish face to be honest. Like you’d use a brush to put eyeshadow ? His eyelid is twitching real hard.
-‘’Dude I can’t help it if you just graze my eye !’’
-do NOT let him get started on highlighter and glittery things. He loves using it on you while you’re working, but his long ass nails scrap the bottom of your stuff and then you get mad at him.
-not like he did it on purpose but hey let’s just yell at him right ?
-he hates foundation tho. The liquid one, cuz it’s sticky and gives him pimples.
-oh and don’t think you’re escaping the dirty jokes puss puss.
-bro grabs all your brushes and place them side by side while you watch him, thinking he’s helping you sort your brushes.
-aww. He’s helping you—…
-‘’Okay so, between all these brushes, which one is closer to my size twin ?’’
-oh never fucking mind.
-okay but i deadass think he’d pull it off pretty well ? I like to imagine him having slight feminine facial features.
JEFF
-it all depends on what you’re gonna do on his face, what kind of make up, the products you use etc.
-I hc him as a metalhead or a goth guy so I guess he’s pretty used to make up like white foundation and black liner.
-if you’re telling him you’re gonna do a full face, but not the one he usually does ?
-oh boy. How do I tell yall without getting slimed.
-he’s TOTALLY against it okay ? Like you’d have to be EXTRA convincing right ? And even if you do convince him, you’ll have to be extra careful with his scars and eyeballs.
-‘’Both you said ? Hands AND mouth ? Let me consider this.’’
-right. Then nothing for the next 24hs
-anyways, it’s gonna be REAL REAL hard convincing him to let you do a full face on him. This guy’s masculinity is…yk. Fragile.
-let’s say he agrees okay ?
-he’d make it super hard for you to actually focus and do your stuff right, he’s hopeful that if he bothers you enough, you’ll leave him alone.
-‘’Bro your gloss is burning my scars.’’
-‘’Oh ew the color you picked is awful, does not match my eyes.’’
-‘’Ew what’s this smell ? Why does your powder smell like that ?’’
-‘’Careful— CAREFUL !! My eyeball is RIGHT here.’’
-he made me mad while writing this oh my god.
-anyways, like I said, a real nuisance. You either crack or give up.
-heh get it ?
-im getting distracted im sorry let me go back in character.
-once he felt a feeling that you actually want to do this to spend time with him and that the fact he doesn’t really cooperate makes you disappointed, he just sighs and sit still.
-he’s still reluctant about you doing his make up but he also doesn’t like it when you’re upset because of him.
-‘’You fucking crybaby. Do your fucking shit, but don’t turn me into a girl, try to do the type of things I usually do. And be careful with the scars.’’
-he’s a bit ashamed that he likes it when he actually stand still. He’s still gonna complain at some point but you quickly shut him up when you gently hold his hair to not stain it with the foundation.
‘You’d occasionally catch him looking at you really intensely, this time not to distract you but only because he actually likes watching you being so concentrated.
-seeing you so focused on him makes him feel seen.
-you didn’t hear shit from me okay ?
-once you’re done, he surprisingly likes the way you did his eyeliner and VERY VERY subtly hint it.
-‘’the liner is very symmetrical. I didn’t say I liked it, I said it’s symmetrical. Everybody can do this shit don’t feel special about it.’’
EYELESS JACK
-oh my poor baby. He absolutely would love letting you do it but he’s scared of ruining your work because of the tar dripping from his ‘eyes’.
-he’d even ask you if you’d prefer to do it over his mask instead to be sure not to ruin it.
-when you insist that you want to do it on his face he just agrees because why would he say no to quality time ?
-given his lack of eyes, his other senses being more developed, makes the contact of your brush against his skin more ticklish.
-he’d occasionally twitch there and then because of the feeling but wouldn’t interrupt you during it.
-the feeling of your hands cupping his face so gently and the brush tickling his face makes him purr.
-‘’did you just purr ?’’
-‘’no I didn’t…’’
-‘’yes you diiiid awww..’’
-you know what else he does ? He eats people. Now get back to work.
-other than the occasional purring, he’s pretty silent, not that he’s that talkative in general but he’s just laying there enjoying the moment with his head on your lap.
-he also apologizes a lot when his tar starts dripping and you have to wipe it and ruining the make up at the same time.
-‘’oh no i’m so sorry love, do you want me to fetch my mask ?’’
-he enjoys spending time with you so much and he’s so upset that his tar stains your make up. He’s so quick to apologize whenever it happens.
-he’s glad you don’t have foundation to match his skin tone, because the feeling makes him squirm a little.
-except if you have gray foundation for some reason ?
-holding your hands and rubbing his face against it.
-ruining the make up. Again.
-he looks really cute when you finish.
-not that he can see it.
TOBY
-dude he’s so hyped.
-he usually is pretty quick to agree to whatever you suggest to him whenever you two are together because of his very little free time as a proxy.
-quality time is a BIG BIG yes to him, he’s so happy that you want to do things with him.
-you could’ve asked Nina, Jane, any girls in the mansion but you picked HIM !!
-of all people !
-you don’t understand how happy he is, really.
-‘’make up ? H-hell yes baby turn me into a l-latina baddie.’’
-he practically lets you do anything on his face as long as you don’t put mascara or get too close to the eyes because he doesn’t want to tic while you’re doing it and you accidentally poke his eye.
-he may not feel pain, but it still is a weird feeling that he doesn’t really like to experience, you know ?
-he’d grab your free hand or wrist while yapping about his latest mission, or what he did with the others. That’s the only time he actually can, he just loves talking to you so much.
-he wouldn’t be able to sit still tho, because of his tics, yes, but also because he wants to enjoy his time with you as much as he can.
-‘’c-can I do your make up too once- w-when you’re done with me ?’’
-‘’wait can you t-try something I’ve seen on TikTok ? You put lipstick on y-your lips a-and— fuck— then you kiss me.’’
-I mean, you could do that yeah. And then clean it up.
-oh wait he has to check what he looks like every seconds tho. After you’re done with a step, he immediately grabs the small mirror on your palette and checks himself.
-‘’you’re doing s-so good baby.’’
-that sounded lwk freaky guys lmao.
-I deadass think that a brownish lipgloss would look so good on him
-oh also he insists that you keep his freckles visible, he finds himself more handsome like this.
I’m sorry if Toby is inaccurate, I wanted to try and include his illnesses but I was worried to misinterpret them and didn’t risk it.
I made this post to talk about a couple topics that have been going around in the crp fandom (when is there not something going on really) and I'm using the comment that @sanityshorror left on my latest post to kind of start this rant, it's long as fuck so buckle up. Also just clarifying something, I am in no way attacking Sanity or anyone personally, if I use a second person perspective when talking just know that I'm using it generally and it's not directed towards specific individuals.
I can see where Sanity is coming from with the whole "it's horror" argument and while I do agree, it's not an excuse to blatantly mischaracterize characters. As for the "they're serial killers" part, I feel like that argument most of the time just takes away the complexity of the characters because you're narrowing them down to their homicidal tendencies. In fact, I think slapping any problematic and fucked up behavior you can think of onto a character that is canonically a murderer doesn't make your portrayal is realistic, you're just reducing them to heartless murder machines. “Oh this character kills people? Okay I'll make them touch children and rape women as well.” Is genuinely what this entire thing sounds like to me.
Also I want to clarify more on what I consider a problematic headcanon - making the creeps hard to be around, or showing the unpleasant sides of mental illness, or not being afraid of not infantilizing these characters and reminding people that they're grown adults with fucked up pasts that made them the way they are now… etc is not problematic. In fact, I'd love to see more of it and even write about it myself. But it gets to a point man... I've seen people call Toby a nazi, Laughing Jack a pedophile, Tim/Masky has been depicted as a misogynistic asshole multiple times in fanfics purely because he was somewhat aggressive in Marble Hornets (which I beg to differ, that man is a sweetheart he was just fed the fuck up) and so much more shit that doesn't make sense for the character. For example, how are you going to call Toby an abuser when he has shown clear distaste towards his father's behavior and treatment towards him and his family? That guy literally used to take hits for his mom and sister so his dad wouldn't let it out on them, turning into his father is the last thing he'd want to happen. It reminds me of filmmakers that use a shit ton of unnecessary (keyword: unnecessary) rape and sexual assault scenes that don‘t add anything to the plot other than shock value.
Now I want to talk about a specific creepypasta writer whose posts have been circulating around twitter recently, I'm sure most of you have seen them already and if not I'll put screenshots below, this'll help me expand more on how it isn‘t the headcanons themselves that are the problem, it's the mischaracterizing aspect of them:
Besides Tim’s part that is just straight up wrong, like out of all the wrong things in the world that is the most wrong thing ever, the others can be rewritten for sure because they definitely wouldn't react positively but it also depends on the severity of the situation... oh well, opinions differ. Moving on to what I think is a different prompt by the same writer is an X-Virus one that is again just blatant mischaracterization:
Just by reading this you can tell the prompt is related to pregnancy and uhh I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume the writer just doesn‘t know about the newer information regarding X-Virus because his creator is somewhat active on Tumblr and has stated multiple times that Liam would be caring and protective as a lover but I don't think everyone is aware of the creator’s account:
Now here's the thing… I wouldn‘t even be mad at these types of headcanons if the characters were canonically represented that way. Let's take HABIT for example (and I know he's technically from a youtube web series/ARG but still a very prominent and recurring character in the creepypasta fandom, similar to how Masky and Hoody were basically adopted). This guy's name is literally Mankind‘s Bad Habit, he's supposed to be problematic and fucked up. I'm not gonna spoil what he's done just in case, especially since EMH has been gaining a lot of new fans lately. But yeah, if you give a character like him problematic headcanons it'd make sense. What I'm trying to say throughout all of this rambling is it isn't the headcanons themselves, it's the mischaracterization. Just because a character is canonically a murderer, doesn't mean they'd do every fucked up thing under the sun.
You guys are constantly bashing others for writing silly and fun headcanons of the creeps, constantly nagging others for being unrealistic and saying "They wouldn't do something like that." then turn around and do shit like this as if you're not on the same boat. At the end of the day, these are fictional characters. We can coexist and enjoy different portrayals of the same characters, just don't shit on others and ruin the fun for them because you don't agree with their opinion.
Everything has been said in this please spread it around cuz it’s horrible how many people have been mischaracterizing creepypastas to their own weird fantasies !! And yes WEIRD, because why would you call Toby a fucking nazi because he’s German ? Not only it is racist saying ts shit AND antisemitic !!
I won’t say anything much because nymphette said everything that needed to be said.
