Ꮺ Call me Ushka or Mimi ♡ 18 ๋࣭ ⭑ Any/All, AFAB જ⁀➴ writer ೀ minors DNI “Cry for me darlin', let me taste your tears” M/W: @Gl0ws1ck.ᐟ ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ︶︶⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶
Wowie this intro post is old lolz! (It reminds me of Odysseus’ ship, if it’s changed so much in the past two years, is it the same post?) Anyways-! I’ve been writing fanfiction for about two years, I’m a big reader of actual books as well, lolz. I’m a Riddle and Lilia yumeshipper, I love gothic horror and romance 😋
My posting schedule is literally non existent— I have drafts and reqs from like a year ago that I’m still working on sporadically x.X Enjoy your stay regardless!!
Requests: OPEN!
Commissions: OPENED!
Anons: 🦭, 💤, 🪶,🎀
Matching Themes W/: @gl0ws1ck
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Rules .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Don’t DM me asking if I’m doing your request, I promise I see it and I’m working on it! If you request while my requests are closed, it will not be done. Specify if you want a one shot, headcanon, or ficlet or I’ll automatically do headcanons. Specify the pronouns, gender expression, and sex of the reader or I’ll automatically write they/them, GN, AFAB.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖Fandoms I Write For .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Twisted Wonderland, Obey Me!, Date Everything!, Hellsing, The Arcana, Mystic Messenger, JJK, Whatever else I feel like lolol
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Will write: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, NSFW, Piss, Yandere, Trans (Reader or making other characters trans/another gender that’s not canon), Anything queer, fat/chubby, BD/SM (This includes light-medium age play, pet play, pain play, fauxcest, and other taboo kinks) Student/Staff, Lilia/Student, Leona/Student (student will be explicitly 18+)
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Won’t write: OC x Character, Angst no comfort, SA, Rape/CNC, Sc*t, actual incest, Romantic/NSFW of Children (ei; Luke, Ortho) , fat shaming or explicit ED mention (even in comfort fics)
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Links.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Masterlist
Ao3
Discord Server
Alt/Backup: @ushkas-archival-alt
DO NOT REPOST/TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AI AT ALL
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Tags .𖥔 ݁ ˖
#Ushkas Archives - My fanfics/Ideas/Hcs/etc.
#Ushkas Yaps - yammering abt unimportant stuff typically
#Mimis Mooties - posts featuring or mentioning my mutuals
#Ushkas Updates - Updates about the blog(s)
#Actually Archiving - Mostly used on the alt/backup account to archive things here if I ever get nuked (again…)
#💉Anon or Mimi Anon- When I ask stuff on anon bc this blog is connected to my main account (and I can’t be caught slackin)
A soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic breathing, told him that you were fast asleep now. He'd been stalking you for quite a bit now. At night when you slept, in the morning when you'd whine about work, and even when you had your fingers buried inside yourself. He's seen it all. You fascinated him like no other human. He was planning on torturing you, curious to your reactions, expressions, everything. He wanted it. Tonight he was ready to strike. Your arm was sliding off the bed, dangling in front of the clown who was under the bed. A large toothy grin pulled across his face as his clawed hand grabbed yours. Right as he was preparing to make his next move, your fingers curled around his. The contrast was dizzying. Your hand, smaller, warm, and delicate. Wrapped around his large, monstrous claw like it was something precious or worth holding. He felt a strange stutter in his chest unlike the usual. He couldn't pull away despite his head telling him to rip you apart. He didnt dare speak, nor move in fear of waking you. If he woke you you'd be onto him and it would foil his plans! Or maybe he wasnt ready to let go of your hand just yet.
SYNOPSIS; Weeks upon weeks of research led you to meet what you thought was the devil himself. But when you find that the devil has blonde hair and smokes weed, you might have let your security systems down... just a little bit.
TW; cussing, violence, murder, disgusting description of a corpse, god complex, WIREPLAY/IMPROPER USE OF WIRES, DACRYPHILIA, cunnilingus, porn, pornsites, degradation, praise, MOMMY KINK, vibrator is used, hentai, voyeurism, severe invasion of privacy, hair pulling/grabbing, p in v, taunting
WORD COUNT; 9,214 words
You’ve been at this for weeks.
Type. Enter. Search. Click. Read.
Your mantra.
BEN was— a tragedy. A digital manifestation materializing from the irrational fear of his existence, a counterpart of a little boy that drowned in his father’s back yard years ago. His form finally took itself in full from the infamous legends that are littered in the dark, strange corners of the internet, earning him a reputation nothing short of terrifying.
It didn’t take long for people to start linking his legend to real-life casualties. Humans being humans, this wasn’t so new. But the charm of reading their full-breakdown analyses to all this captivates you. It was fun reading on people finding near-coincidences of BEN’s evidence and presence using only surface-level details you can usually find in articles online. Murders, missing persons, traces that may or may not be planted evidence– people always find something. But never everything.
Speaking of articles, you’re pretty sure you’ve scoured through each and every source you can put your sneaky paws under. Story Summaries on youtube, ARG Analyses, Academic Research (surprisingly), underground Wikis on gaming and horror culture articles, Wikis on character and mythology, and finally, video essays and documentaries.
You’ve scrolled through forums. Fanfiction. Theories. You’ve even played one of the games itself.
You were captured. And you had no intention to stop.
It wasn’t the tragic story that hooked you— you weren’t a sadist. It was just how, if his story ever was real, dangerous for people to poke and prod at is what is literally his home. You’ve seen forums of people trying to find the cartridge he so very makes his realm, entering dark-web chatrooms only for them to get a virus or receive a picture of someone gutted out on hardwood floor.
They tried giving themselves the viruses. Downloading stupid, foreign apps just to never be able to open their phone again.
It isn’t all that bad. Not all people were stupid.
Geniuses, top-notch IT students, professional tech-savvs, they were the ones that inched the closest to communication with the ghost. Cracking open the code of the Majora’s Mask duplicate cartridge (very nicely and intricate duplicate, mind you), rewiring pathways, adding commands and clauses and if-and-what statements, eliminating error after error after error—
To find nothing.
For one of them, it’s a dead end. For another, an irrefutable error that even 20 goddamn years of experience can’t seem to break. Some tried to fight fire with fire: make a virus of your own, release it, watch it eat away, then watch it disappear with little to no explanation.
So close. So close.
If you were asked where you lie in between the idiots and the genius, you’d say you won’t fit anywhere. You’d say you were just— just here.
Watching everything play out and always getting thirsty for whatever new info comes out of somewhere, anywhere.
Today was no different: type, scroll, type, scroll, click, scroll.
Then a notif pops up: New Article— Another One of the Missing Found Dead
Click.
Famous Documentarian Drowned Near Lake. Body Found Hung in a Tree
Fuuuucking hell.
You remember watching this guy on YouTube– one of the geniuses who manage to crack at least a few codes in BEN’s story– in fact, you even communicated with him in a Discord server and he was able to supply you several underground virus-free sources for you to dabble on. You immediately make another tab to open a forum you knew the article already made it to. Scrolling, your eyes furiously scour each and every post: nothing.
Fucking nothing?
You refresh. Scroll again. Nothing again.
Maybe you were too excited. People need to grieve, for fuck’s sake.
Slumping your way back to the article tab, you open the site to read a proper look of the crime scene:
A body– no less than the documentarian’s, hung gruesomely in the tree sitting next to a blue-green-hazed lake. There weren’t any visible wounds. Just gray skin and purple fingernails.
You scroll down some more.
Good fucking–
His face. His fucking face. Twisted in terror, his mouth hung open like hell was opening its door right inside. Clean teeth, but infested by maggots and fly eggs. His eyes were still there– but foggy and dead and empty.
You couldn’t look at it anymore. You closed the tab.
3:14 PM
You tried to forget it. Took a nap. Wearily ate lunch.
And now you’re here, back on your desk again, snug in your chair while you scroll through forums. An active server was open for debates.
You smile and cozy up even more. You watch as the debate flurries into message by message, evidence by evidence, link by link. You smile even more when things started to get heated, insults and roasts thrown here and there, unrelated GIFs by digital passersby being spammed then kicked out of the group, nifty reaction emojis popping up under the chat bubbles.
Your notes app suddenly bounces to life on the screen in front of you. No title. No context. No random memo inside. Just a blinking cursor.
“What the fuck?”
You drag your pointer to the X button and click it closed, only for it to open up again.
“What the fuuuck?”
The cursor blinks at you, one, two, three, four, five times, then— letter by letter, the cursor inches itself more to the right as the words present themselves to you:
You’re persistent.
“What?” you mutter, posture immediately erect and alarmed, immediately going through your app settings window to see if you had anything open. The notes app overrides your request by placing itself on top of your app settings window.
Most people stop when they’ve already played the game and found nothing.
A pause.
Why didn’t you?
Your own breath was choking you. You’ve installed at least five anti-viruses– how could this happen?
who are you
Someone you know, the cursor revealed. someone you know very, very well.
You found yourself typing back before you even knew it.
im talking to myself then
haha
Silence. You calm down a bit more— but even you don’t have an idea why.
You always this reckless?
only on tuesdays
Another pause. Longer, this time.
lol. im gonna hack your playlist
What a change of tone— wait your spotify playlist is open.
One by one, song titles morphed themselves into ridiculous (disgusting) parodies of their actual names. Album covers? Replaced by hentai ahegao. Artist titles? All renamed into yo mama. Your whole playlist name? It’s now Idiots Listen to This
Deadpanning, you started to type once again on the yellow box of the notes app.
seriously? great first impression dude
what can i say im a professional
You lean back onto your chair. Biting your lip, your eyes flick between the notes app and the forum chatroom. The messages stopped flooding in, but that observation was quickly side-lined in cause of this mysterious interaction.
You stare at the screen for a while.
Someone you know. Someone you know very, very well.
A hitch of something boiling balls up in your gut.
are u who i think u r?
Another pause. But no answer.
BEN?
The three letters blinked at you– then vanished.
your security is disappointing
You snicker, half-nervous.
but your wallpaper’s worse.
You giggle a little, noticing your web browser flicker, seemingly in sync of where you take your breaths in.
hey!! dark deception isnt that bad. takes forever for the next chapter but gameplay is peak
A manic, distorted, eerie laugh emanated from your PC speaker. It’s like if pixels were mangled into a voice file. Jumping back a bit, your startle was quickly replaced with a cautious breath of laughter.
wtf was that u
u can talk u know. i can hear u thru that horrible mic u have
Your back met the rest of your chair.
“Hello?”
there u go
You giggle again. This can’t be real. Your eyes flicker from your notes app back to the dead chatroom and back to the app again. The cursor was still blinking. You’re still breathing. And whatever– whoever it was in your system right now is still there.
“If you can hear me, why don’t you talk?” Crossing your arms, you stare at the screen questioningly. “Prove to me you’re real. I don’t feel like talking to some stupidly coded AI.” Your screens flicker again: one, two, three times.
Then all at once, like a heavy salute or a chanting choir, your phone, your ipad, your laptop, and what you think is your fucking microwave, all beeped to life:
“hi.”
“That’s fucking— holy shit,” your head swivels back from your ajar door to the screen once again. “Yeah, yeah that’s– that’s enough.” you’re terrified. But also impressed. Mostly terrified.
Your fingers hover over your keyboard, but the pads of your fingers don’t seem to connect with any of the keys. Taking a breath, you sigh and relax against the backrest of your chair. (Or at least, try to.)
“You’re really in here,” you watch as your notes app expands itself to a full screen. “Aren’t you?”
cant be disappointing my biggest fan now can i??
Biggest fan. Sucking in a breath too small, your lips quiver. “How much do you know about me?”
i know you like prying into shit you really shouldnt be prying into, for one
i know where you went to college. the names of your friends. where and how you like your coffee.
“Yeah?” your soul feels like it gathered up in your brain and dropped down to your feet all at once. “How do I like my coffee?” you’re testing the waters. You’re testing the waters and you’re about to drown.
mocha. with whipped cream on top and dark chocolate shavings.
Well, shit.
You stay quiet. Why does he know so much about you? Why did he even choose to know? What is he going to do to you?
“What do you want with me?”
i guess nobodys made this far
A pause.
and ur kinda cute ngl
Cute? “You can see me?”
What a stupid question– of course he can see you– if one can hear, one can see.
yeah LMAO ur cute as fuck when ur scared
That’s it. You’re done for the day.
“Asshole,” almost tripping over a charger, you reach behind your desk and pull the plug. You force power-off everything you have that has a screen. (You pulled the plug on your microwave too.)
9:38 AM
You haven’t slept a wink. It was still on your mind– everything was still on your mind.
The dead chatroom. Your notes app. Your spotify playlist. The hi message. Your microwave. The coffee.
ur cute as fuck when ur scared.
You’re cute as fuck when you’re scared.
when you're scared.
scared.
He knew you were terrified. And that was enough for you to live offline for a total of about 9 hours. It didn’t make it any better that your whole setup was facing the foot of your bed, just touching the right corner of your room. Meanwhile, your devices, your phone, your ipad, your laptop, were all piled up on the left side of your desk, resting on the floor.
Like a sad pile of paranoia.
You made dinner at 6. Gone to bed at 8. Slept lightly until 12– awake since 1 AM and grabbed coffee at 7.
mocha with whipped cream and chocolate shavings mocha mocha mocha–
You wanted it plain black today. In fact you wanted it so much you barely took a sip of it. The sad cup of black coffee sat on your left, steam from the heat slowly simmering out into the air less and lesser the more time goes on.
You catch a glimpse of yourself on the dark screen of black on your PC. You look at yourself. Then at your coffee. Back to yourself. Then to the pile of temporarily-abandoned electronics. Then back at yourself again.
A laugh haphazardly escapes your dry throat. Dark circles hang under your eyes. Your hair stuck up in awkward ways. You swallow, but that doesn’t seem to soothe the barbed wires of what is your throat. Was it a fever dream? Were you dead? You sure look like it.
Beyond better judgement, a stubborn force in you traveled from your heavy-beating heart to your fingers. Plugging in the goddamn PC once again, you wait for the system to whir to life and finally blink your lock screen into place.
That isn’t your lock screen.
What greeted you in place instead, was a bright green, flickering screen that you definitely did not remember opening before you shut it all down. Thin horizontal, robotic lines decorated the entirety of your screen, left to right, up to down.
But that wasn’t what made you want to vomit your guts out.
In the middle of the screen– perfect center– were seven words bolded black. It stood out almost perfectly intentional against the bright flickering mess of raw code.
ARE YOU DONE WITH YOUR TANTRUM NOW?
Tantrum? He thinks you’re having a tantrum?
“Are you done!? It feels like you’ve been watching me all damn night–”
Letter by letter, the words backspaced to an empty slate, as if someone was typing this out. Then, the letters reappeared.
PROBS COS I WAS. U HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT?
You weren’t sure where to glare at: the screen entirely, or at the webcam that’s supposedly watching you.
“You’re a fucking freak,” you spat. “Either fess up who you really are or I call the fucking cops.”
There it was. That manic laughter again. You swear it’s louder this time.
COPS WONT DO JACK SHIT. BUT I LIKE IT WHEN U CALL ME A FREAK.
You were about to reach for your phone, long-pressing the power button— but you freeze.
This is how they die. The missing documentarian. This is how he died– you’re sure of it– investigating for the mysterious, encountering it, trying to fight back—
And lose.
If you call the cops, they’d arrive late. They’d find you dead. Dead in the tree. Drowned brutally, with maggots and fly eggs in your mouth while your eyes hung open lifeless—
You’ll be nothing but another article to litter the news and a theory for the internet.
Hands shaking, you set your phone down without a word.
THANKS MOMMY
What?
You’re speechless and annoyed and livid–
“What the fuck are you trying to do?” you could see rings of hot white corner your eyes, the lack of sleep catching up and adding to your fury. He’s playing— you’re not in the mood for a game. “First you fucking hack into my PC for god knows what, ding up all my shit, threaten me, and now you’re calling me fucking mommy?”
DONT ACT LIKE UR NOT INTO IT. I SCROLLED THRU UR TWITTER FEED.
Backspaced again. Then new words.
IM INTO IT TOO 😛😛
“This… this can’t be fucking real,” you feel an unwelcome warmth envelope your face, grinding your teeth while your hands gripped on the edges of the desk like death.
But like a bad daydream, the green code disappears and flickers back to your lock screen. You tense up for a moment, the heat from your face fizzling out. Has he finally left you alone?
Nope. Your lockscreen slides up, before a chrome tab explodes in full, filling your screen corner to corner. A link starts to embed itself on the search bar, the first few words after the HTTP encryption were enough to have you scrambling to spam your esc key.
In a span of what felt like 5 seconds, a page opened in XVIDEOS.com began playing porn— not the super hardcore stuff– but it was definitely loud enough for people in a 10-mile radius to hear.
The woman in the video was on her knees, straddling her male partner under her while she rode him like a death sentence. You could hear the skin slapping when their hips collided, the somewhat skinny guy gripping onto the girl’s ass in a death grip, head thrown back with eyes screwed shut while he moaned his brains out. Tears were dripping down his face and onto the bed.
The girl, meanwhile, leaned part of her weight onto her hands planted on his chest, using it as an anchor while her frame bounced up and down on the guy’s porn-approved cock, her face right above his, focused and looking into his eyes while she rode him to sex-hell.
Their moans traveled like waves and bounced off and through the walls and out your window, and of course, you were sure it reached your upstairs neighbors.
Still spamming the esc key, you try spamming F7 to bring the volume down, and it worked, yes it did– but for about 2 seconds before it rose up the max bar once again. You tried your scroller– still went up again.
You panic in dreadful silence, forcing yourself not to make a sound as to not add any more imagination of what your neighbors might think you’re doing what they think you’re really doing– and it’s all in the hands of an internet legend that goes by in a mockery of a popular adventure game.
And, to add to your horror, a notification appears flatly on the corner-right of the screen:
could be us but ur angry at me for no reason
“No reason!? You’re playing porn on my PC!”
as if u dont do that shit already LMAOO
Like it wasn’t at its maximum, the volume turned up louder.
You’re desperate to get the noise down. You could already imagine the noise complaints flooding your door.
“Okay– okay jesus–” you’re almost yelling. “What the fuck do you want?”
In a sudden flash the whole web browser folds in on itself, closing back into logo. A moment of silence ensues when you spot a random file folder on the right side of your screen: CLICK ME
Your cursor was moving faster than your mind could comprehend.
In an instant the file expanded the screen in full: black. All black. Nothing else.
“Hello?” you cringe, feeling like the stupid main character in the horror movies you’ve watched on pirated movie sites. Lips quivering, you dared to try and call a name you were sure you were dealing with: “Ben…?”
“‘Bout time you accepted it,” a voice called out. Boyish, a little raspy– but it felt like it was echoing off the walls of your PC. But you still couldn’t see him. Following a hunch in your gut, you reach for your mouse and hold the right click.
As expected, you could point at anywhere in this… digital dimension you’re currently in. Left, black. To the right, still black. Then,
“Over here, girlie.”
You suck a breath in and swivel your view point backwards.
There he was. BEN. In all his glory. But it isn’t at all what you expected.
Instead of being a scratchy, polygon-textured stature of Link from Zelda with a forced, manufactured smile on his face— you were met with something far more charming. He’s still blonde, yes– but it’s shaggy– more human, if you will. That shaggy hair was adorned with a wool-woven green beanie.
His ears were still elf-like, but now his earlobes were stretched by ear gauges, bright green, with black helix piercings adorning his ears. His eyes were eerily still– but still so real. Bright, blood-red pupils bore into yours, surrounded by black voids of his scleras. His eyelashes were beautifully long, somehow unstained by the blood dripping from his waterline down to his jaw.
Speaking of his jaw, it was gently sharp and strong, like it was structured from years of clenching it under pressure— or pure curiosity.
BEN notices your eyes trailing him. He grins, showing off perfectly-white square teeth, before he floats back— wait, float?
He floats backwards, his body positioned as if he was laying on a hammock, frame turned slightly sideways to face you.
His body– or at least what you could see through his baggy clothes– weren’t… bad. He had muscle– but not enough to pass as a crazy buff guy ready to punt someone. BEN’s shirt lifted up just enough to show a bit of his V-line. He was lean. Lean but sturdy in all the right ways. He had the type of body to hide under bags and bags of clothes, but had enough strength to fend someone off if he had to.
Maybe enough strength to overpower you as well.
The thought should have terrified you more than it did. You don’t think you would have minded it if that happened—
Shut the fuck up
It was when he threw his head back to cackle at your face when you saw a small mole on the side of his jaw. It fit him.
“You sure talk a lot of shit for someone who stares at strangers on screen.” out of nowhere, he pulls out a blunt (that he probably made himself), and takes a drag. (You’re not sure how it remained lighted in whatever pocket it was in.)
“Are… are you gonna kill me?” your voice came out quieter than you intended.
BEN’s face was still. But his lazy smirk remained plastered on his face. “Nah,” another drag. “I’m too high for that right now.”
You deadpan. “Then what do you want? You never answer me,” he throws the barely-finished blunt somewhere in the void, not caring to even step on it before speaking. “I want you to play a game,” he pauses, shifting in his shirt while he faces you fully. “It’s somethin’ I’ve been working on. Nothing special– just need a little… input.”
BEN shifts closer. “After all, you love sticking your cute little nose into shit you shouldn’t even be looking at, right?” he winks. In a flash of pixels, the void in your PC suddenly consumes BEN’s form and takes you to a starter screen. On first impression it was— janky. The px sizes of each button was a slightly different size, undone hentai GIFs were littered in every space that would have been deemed awkward if not for the more awkward placing of the moving little pictures of lewdness, a bimbo hot-pink theme slapped on the UI. There was no title, just the uneven buttons and the GIFs.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” you stare at the screen in annoyance. “This is what you’ve been working on? A hentai game?”
A notification that leads back to no apps in your PC pops up again.
not just a sex game, its fucking heaven ill tell you that
“I’m not fucking testing this.” you spat, reaching for your ice-cold bitter coffee as an attempt to have even something to do before clicking X on the notif.
cmonnnn just one round ill play with u
“You’re already playing with me you fucking— fine, fine!”
Your inner morality begs for help the moment you click the start button, screen switching to a selection:
CHOOSE YOUR GENDER
“Come on,” you roll your eyes before clicking female.
In all of what you expected in the world, you would have never anticipated BEN in front of you, on a digital 3D-sculpted bed, shirtless with the rest of his body cut off by the bottom of your PC. He’s on his elbows, fully facing you, with a sly grin and half-high eyes, eyebrows wiggling up and down.
A chatbox under the name BEN pops up just at the bottom of your screen just like in the fucking visual novels on itch.io. His “voice” talked in 8-bit pixels, syncing with how fast the letters appeared inside the box.
u like it?
BEN wiggles his eyebrows two times before you shut your whole PC down without a word.
1:49 AM
The blush that swallowed your face earlier still stained your cheeks like ink.
And the wet slick that coated your cunt stuck like honey.
You didn’t mean to be turned on by anything, not him of all people. Both the fear and horniness mixed inside your brain like slush. Every now and then, you’re reminded of the horrors the entity you had just seen shirtless caused. You had started looking for him God knows how many weeks ago, disregarding this as just urban legend shit the internet made up yet once again.
But this wasn’t just urban legend shit anymore— no, this was mass murder shit. Real-life crime documentary shit. Talking to a serial killer shit.
It was after that interaction you remembered just how much BEN really knew about you.
hi. hi. hi.
ur cute as fuck when ur scared. hi.
mocha? want a mocha? whipped cream, chocolate shavings?
BEN probably knows where you are. Your exact location. Your family. Your friends. Your school your college your life your joys and your fears—
ur cute as fuck when ur scared.
He knows you're scared.
But you didn’t even try to hide it. He knew you more than you knew him, after all, he is just a digital entity that haunts people’s server boards and kill them then hang their body up in a tree right after.
maggots. fly eggs.
Will he kill you? Nah. Was he lying when he said that? Nah? It sounded too casual for him. A threatened, scared innocent person comes up to you and asks will you kill me and all you could say is nah?
You pondered on that thought for a while. If he wasn’t as much as bothered by the question or his answer, BEN was lying. Yet you couldn’t even guarantee you’ll be alive tomorrow before cops eventually find your body, so even if he was lying, you wouldn’t know. His pants weren’t on fire, were they?
It was after thinking about how to make him disappear from your PC that you’d realized you had been lying to yourself. Your plans seemed fruitless. Which is ironic from how hard and long you plotted, eventually coming to a dead-end named what if he’s already ahead of you?
You had been lying to yourself the moment you felt the heat soak your panties when you saw him like that. He was beautiful, unreal. But he was very much real. Real enough to know what turns you on and what scares you all at the same time. You told yourself you’d hire a private investigator– a really good one, then banish this virus from your life forever.
But we lie best when we lie to ourselves.
Despite your inner judgement screaming once again, your hands slid down your panties, the pads of your middle finger kissing the peak of your clit. In slow, deep circles you felt yourself leaking more slick the longer you kept it up. Your teeth pinched the pillow in a tight grip, slow drool puddling on the pillowcase while your eyes kept lidded.
Eventually your fingers found its way circling your hole, teasing your warm folds for a bit before plunging in. You sigh and whine, going slowly but quietly on yourself. Your palms find your breasts, rubbing your nipples while you work your way into your orgasm.
The room was filled with nothing but whimpers that were kept as quiet as possible, along with the embarrassingly louder schlickschlickschlick of your wet cunt. You’d remember his body, how he laid there like a fallen angel, with the body that seems too perfect to be real, faint abs and lean but strong biceps—
Lean but sturdy in all the right ways. He had the type of body to hide under bags and bags of clothes, but had enough strength to fend someone off if he had to. Maybe enough strength to overpower you as well.
Maybe enough strength to overpower you as well.
Maybe enough strength to overpower you as well.
Your orgasm rips through you with fervor, your hips spasming upwards when the peak hits, a small but long moan pressed into the cotton of your pillow reverberates on your ears.
For a moment, you just laid there. Then, like lightning, your PC beeps up for a millisecond, flashing a white screen, then shuts off again.
You immediately pull your covers over your naked body, the blanket immediately warming your shivering body. You stare at the PC for a while. Quiet again.
A small blush dusts your cheeks while your brain flips through possible explanations as to why your PC suddenly sprung into life just to shut off again. Had he been watching you?
You look around the room, your eyes landing on your sad pile of paranoia, waiting for a few seconds, then let your body relax down once again onto the sheets. Your eyes stuck on the ceiling over you. Huffing, you turn over on your side and drifted off to sleep.
11:08 PM
Here you are again.
The PC whirrs on like a ghost coming to life again. Dust had started to collect on the mug of coffee you had long since forgotten.
As if expecting a visit, BEN greets you, almost bored with one hand supporting his chin, head tilted while his eyes were half-closed. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
Almost snickering, you grin a little. “Do you not take showers, or?”
BEN stares at you, still a little deadpanned. “I’m a god, baby. I don’t need to take showers. But if you wanted to see me wet naked and warm you just hafta’ tell me,” he winks at you, the sly little smirk appearing on his face again. “Just promise me you’re not gonna run away like you did last time. You left lil’ ol’ Ben wondering if he’s even worth it.”
He fakes a pout, his head now resting sideways on his two folded arms, still eyeing you– seemingly through the screen. It was like a window.
“Dude, seriously? You literally almost flashed me with that stupid sex game of yours.” BEN grins wider, his pearly whites showing in full, now. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like the view. I saw how much you were blushing.”
Your eyes look away, trying to keep your face emotionless and unreadable.
Jesus, your wires are a mess.
BEN speaks again. “You wanna play another game?”
Your head snaps back to the screen. “Hell no.”
“C’monnn, it’s good this time. No sex games.”
“I said no, Ben, and that’s final.” you stern, furrowing your eyes at him.
A pause of silence. Then, BEN sighs and leans back on the invisible chair he seems to be sitting on.
“Okay, mommy. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” his voice had a slight whimpering tone to them, and you hated how it did things— unholy, unwelcome things to your body— immediately squirming in an uncomfortable twist, face heating up as quickly as it did.
“Stop–” you took a breath. “Stop calling me that.”
BEN grins, tilting his head teasingly once again. “You don’t like it, mommy? Your Tumblr likes tell me otherwise.” His voice sing-songs on the last word.
You snap. “Stop digging through my shit you fucking—”
“I wouldn’t have dug through it in the first place if you hadn't dug through mine. You crossed a line, I crossed another. Tit for tat. Stop whining and watch your mouth.”
The sudden change of his tone left you frigid and speechless. It was so sudden, so fast and so sharp. You felt your hands grow ice-cold. Eyes widening, you force your lips to open and your voice to utter out.
“I–... I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay?”
BEN’s once sudden cold, unforgiving face switches back to his usual lazy smile. “It’s okay, mommy. I forgive ya.” he winks again.
Trying to find an out, you utter once more. “So… what do you–”
“You really do have blowjob-lips, don’t you?”
You flinch back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
BEN shrugs. “You do. Like, actually.”
You stay quiet, the blush getting impossibly hot now. Desperate to find something for your hands to do, you start carefully untangling the loose wires adorning the corner of your desk. “Silent treatment? Really?” his voice drags out on the really, almost taunting you. “Well, I have an idea on how to make you talk.”
Still nothing from you.
“Wanna see it?”
Nothing.
BEN shrugs. “Alright, fine.”
Like sick, twisted substitute for tendrils, the wires from your hands pull back and shoot out, slinking and slithering its way around your wrists— tight.
An extension cord around your ankles. Thick USB-type wires around both your wrists, holding them up above your head. You sputter. “What– what the fu–”
BEN interrupts. “Shh. You wanted to play silent treatment, right? So stay quiet unless you have something worth hearing out of that ungrateful mouth of yours.”
Slowly, a yellow TRS type wire slips its cold metal in, sending goosebumps on your stomach, up to your chest, then—
Your tits bounce awkwardly out of your lifted shirt and into the cold air, giving BEN a full view of what you were hiding. He chuckles, pixel-like crashing sounds heard in his voice. “No bra? Thank you, mommy.” The little shit licks his lips at the sight of your nipple tightening.
“Fuckin– let me go,” you struggle against the wires, twinging at the rubber twisting against your effort. “How the hell are you doing this?”
BEN grins wider. “With all this research you’ve been doing on me I’m surprised you aren’t aware of what I’m capable of.” a few more wires came out to pinch and prod at your nipples, wrapping themselves around the tight buds, earning whimpers from you. You throw your head back, overwhelmed by the whole situation.
Then, another wire, one of your type-B USBs, slips its way into the garter of your panties, bypassing the smooth silk and kissing your clit. You breathe in sharply, hissing when the cold metal presses against the sensitive nub.
“Fuck! – fuck,” you’re squirming now. Waist rotating and twitching in all ways, the rubbers coating the wires keeping your skin in friction— in place. “Just– come on,” you beg, you beg for nothing.
“Go on,” BEN’s voice was calculating, cold. Meticulously paced like a robot, a machine. “Tell me you want to stop. Tell me you want me to disappear. Tell me you don’t want to do this— go on.” his eyes glinted at every flinch.
You stayed quiet. Of all things, of all the scenarios your fear and nightmares warned you– you stayed quiet.
“Just like I fucking thought,” without another word BEN twitches his eyebrow—something starts buzzing in your bedside table. Fighting through the haze and heat, your eyes widen in terror, watching as a white cable reaches all the way to the back of your room, around the knob of your table, and pulls. In your drawer, your vibrator rattles at its maximum power, being held and brought over by the white cable. The vibrator, pink and alive and yours, lowered itself ever so slowly on your dripping cunt. The USB pulls back— like a snake, alive and watching— as the tip of the vibrator, violently buzzing of life, presses against your clit.
Your legs try to flinch close, but rough, thick plugs wrap around your thighs and pull them apart. You could already feel the welts and indents your skin is harboring. Meanwhile, inside of the screen, BEN watches with calculating interest. Red, intense eyes follow yours, then down to your tits, your waist— your leaking cunt.
You stare at him with heavy, lust-ridden eyes, breath heavy and almost steaming with how hot your room is right now. (Did he turn off the AC?)
“You’re the first variable I haven’t been able to predict.” He stares with an almost clinical interest. “Guess you’re special, huh, pixie?” BEN tilts his head to the side, a small grin on his (irritatingly handsome) face.
His mole was in view again.
You keep staring at him, high out of your mind and bucking your hips toward the vibrator. Like sick, twisted mercy, the vibrator inserts itself into the heat of your cunt, requiring a little more effort to push in with how tight you were. The toy finally slips in with a filthy pop!
You feel all your power pour out all at once when your body tenses and stretches against the wires, a long moan escaping your mouth. Your arms were suspended in the air, while your ankles burned against the plastic of your chair.
That’s when you remember it.
Urban legend shit. Mass murder— serial killer shit.
It was a fact to you both that BEN could turn this around in one little moment– reaching a thicker cable around your throat and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until all the life out of you was gone. Then they’d all find your naked body strangled and dead inside your room.
A shiver of fear travels in the ribs of your chest.
BEN’s voice booms out of the speakers. “Your heart rate’s exceeding,” you use whatever strength your neck had left to look down. He had one of your micro-mics against your chest, right in the center where your heart is, and by the expression on his face, he was listening. Listening closely. “Aw, mommy. You really feel this way? For me?”
He laughs mockingly, glitch-crashes accompanying his cackles, simmering down eventually when he looks into your eyes once more.
BEN was amused. He was amused and he isn’t going to stop. His eyebrow is cocked high, over-confident in all the wrong notions. The fear inside you was still there— but something, goddamnit, it always had to be something— burns in your chest, igniting like fire beneath all the cold, damp, terrifying fear.
Something aching like a scandalous rumor— something you shouldn’t be listening to, but you lend your ears anyway.
The orgasm inside you keeps building up on itself, like a boulder ready to fall, moans and sighs and gasps and begging growing more intense, faster, desperate. The fear inside you flickers, closely replaced by hot-white desperation, your spine flinches, your ribs flare, BEN huffs through the screen—
through the screen?
Breaths of hot air meet your sweat-slick skin when you gaze at BEN, his head hung low. Red pupils bore into whatever state your existence was in.
Existence, in its traditional sense, was turned to fog the moment your moans start echoing back to you. There was no true meaning to what existence is to you right now, whether your bundled up in wires naked and afraid in front of your PC made into a home for an entity you never knew really did exist, or you’re hung in a tree, drowned and stripped of your life and humanity, gums drained and made into a home for maggots and fly eggs to live in—
Existence was once a room with locked doors and familiar walls. Then BEN arrived, smiling like an unanswered prayer, and every wall became a window. You could no longer tell whether you were falling out of yourself or being invited somewhere deeper. Fear hollowed your bones. Want filled the empty spaces. Between the two, you ceased to recognize the shape of your own soul.
Existence was a screen— a barrier waiting to be broken by the person in front of it— until BEN crawled out of the PC pixels connecting his torso and the blinking code—
right in front of you.
Your eyes widened— in fear or in sex– you don’t know. You can feel the heat his skin radiated from his face to yours. In an act of derangement, you open your mouth, inviting him in–
BEN’s tongue swirled in with yours, reaching the depths of your own mouth you never knew anyone could reach. His hand, cold and frigid, held your cheeks, thumb rubbing where the pink of your skin puddled up. Your orgasm grows nearer and nearer, shaping into something unrecognizable within your comprehension.
White ragged heat rips you apart. The disconnect of yours and his lips caused by your head throwing back, spine arching to unimaginable measures, the warm sticky slick of your cunt coating more than half of your vibrator, body grinding against BEN’s.
You felt it. His body. His lean waist. The faint hard-on in his pants.
Mewling from the intense orgasm and its leftovers, you pull against the wires holding your arms up and try to reach for him– for BEN, desperate for closure. He clicks his tongue, grinning. “I knew you liked me,”
With one swift motion, he carries himself with his arms planted on your desk, bringing his whole frame down and in front of you. The vibrator had long since died inside of you, and he gazes down at it. Flashing a toothy grin, he reaches down—
The toy pops out of your cunt lewdly, a wet pop! sound reverberating from the walls louder than it should’ve. You tremble at the sudden loss of fullness, whimpering. Without a word and still staring at you, BEN brings up the vibrator to his mouth, and drags his tongue over the warm, creamy residue left on the toy, moaning the moment his tongue lolls back inside his mouth.
“So fuckin’ sweet,” he throws the toy away somewhere on the floor without care, bony but accurate hands flying to his sweatpants and impatiently pulling it down.
You feel a breath of fresh air enter your lungs when you feel your wrists and ankles let free, slight bruises and burns adorning your skin. Your body flunks down against the chair like a ragdoll, chest heaving breaths heavier than your head.
A hand grips your jaw out of unconsciousness. “Don’t think I’m done with you just yet,” BEN’s voice wasn’t accompanied by broken glitches anymore– it was real, inside your ears and echoing inside the walls of your skull.
“Kiss me,” you mewl, thighs already pressing against each other for any kind of friction. “Please—Ben–” you’re gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling yourself up like a pathetic dog, desperately craving any kind of skin-to-skin contact.
BEN laughs, boyish and raspy, before crashing his lips onto yours once again— this time you really paid attention: his lips weren’t like the warm fuzzy heat that enveloped your lips anymore— no, they were warm still, but unexpectedly softer than you’d ever expected. He tasted like sour gummies and weed.
He pulls away, breaking a string of spit that connects your lips together, earning a hazed, dizzy giggle from you. BEN grins back. He points to your bed.
“On the bed,” he commands, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m gonna wreck all your security controls baby.”
The pick-up line snaps you out of your complete haze, making you giggle dizzily. “Seriously? After you just made me almost see god?”
BEN grins wider. “You are seeing god,” his smile drops as suddenly as it came. A wave of fear flashes over you once again. “He’s right in front of you.”
Those arms you once fantasized about were now hauling your limp, adrenaline-ridden body, and eventually pushed on the bed, a muffled squeal received by the mattress. You immediately scramble to sit up, but are pushed down by both BEN’s strength and weight, feeling him straddle your naked hips. He was in his boxers now.
BEN grins in your face, intention riddling his red eyes with want, trailing from your eyes down to your exposed tits. He licks his lips.
“Stay there,” he breathes, sitting up and lifting his shirt over his head— oh my god.
His faint abs looked ethereal in the faint light of the approaching midnight, PC screen still on and flickering faintly, like a portal surpassed. His collarbones were quite deep– but still strong. His biceps were just like how you imagined– lean, but strong enough to–
overpower you.
You started to think he really might be an angel as much as you think he might also be the devil himself.
He notices you staring. Of course he does. “Like what you see, pixie?” BEN fake-flexes his muscles, sticking the tip of his tongue out in between his teeth.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you huff impatiently. “Just… just do it already,” BEN tilts his head. “Do what?” he’s tilting his head again, teasing you. He likes seeing you struggle– scared.
ur cute as fuck when ur scared.
A tear escapes your eyelashes– not only because you’re scared, but you’re so overwhelmed and desperate and he’s taking so long to get on with it.
“Fuck me,” you whine, thighs rubbing against his, her frame squirming and twisting, trying to get any kind of movement. BEN clicks his tongue, shaking his head, taunting. “You really want me to do that to you? To fuck the shit out of you?”
You nod, frantically.
“That’s fucked up shit, you know that? You’re fucked up shit.” He grins, dimples poking themselves on his skin. “But lucky for you, pixie,” he leans in closer, his blonde hair brushing against your neck while his thumb presses against your throat to feel you gulp. He runs his tongue from the base of your neck to the back of your ear– before biting the creamy skin, pulling just a tiny bit, then let go.
You tremble. You can feel him grin against you.
“I love fucked up shit.”
Moving your thighs to the side of his hips, BEN gets rid of his boxers and throws them to nowhere in the room, pumping himself a few more times, his own pre-cum coating his hand and his cock. Looking down, you bite your lip at the view: his cock was long and fairly thick, the tip being a nice pretty pink color with cum beading at the top of his slit.
“Whatcha think, pixie? ‘S it big?” God, you can practically hear the arrogance in his voice. You roll your eyes. “Nah. I’ve seen bigger.” you smile slyly. And for a second, his features drop. Then—
The tip of his cock meets its way inside in your cervix, bruising the poor spongy flesh, grounding your body with his forearms behind your back, locking you against him while your spine arches back deep against the plush of the mattress. You squeal, eyes rolling back into your skull while your mouth runs agape, mewls escaping ever so sweetly like honey.
BEN dips down to your ear, voice low and commanding. “Liar.”
With no hesitation, he starts pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt, hips hitting each other like concrete colliding with each other— over and over and over again.
“Mnn– fuck! Ah, shit– fuck!” your head remains pressed backwards, spine starting to ache bluntly from the mean arch your body is forced in. “More! Please–”
BEN shivers, his whole frame quivering before he settles his shoulders steady against your chest, lips touching your wheezing throat. “Not as good as your fingers feel, huh pixie? Ah, fuck–... Your tiny little fingers couldn’t reach this deep, can they?”
“No–” you squeak, “No, fuck no,” your hands fly to his back, nails digging crescent-shaped indents on his smooth skin.
In a sudden instant, BEN pulls back, large hand gripping your hair and forcing your head down—
Right where you’re getting fucked.
His cock was beating in and out of you mercilessly, sloppy and sticky and filthy, strings of pre-cum and slick. Lewd sounds of schlapschlapschlap coated your ears like think syrup, the sound making you dizzier– tighter.
BEN’s grip holds your head in place, there, forcing immobility against his grasp.
He was forcing you to watch. To see how hard and how filthy you’re being destroyed. To see how easily you gave up for him. How easily you gave up for someone who probably killed hundreds.
“Watch it,” he groans under his breath, short gasps and sharp breaths blowing on your skin. “Watch how hard I fuck you. Nobody’s gonna do it like I did to you, never again,” he laughs, short-breathed and short-lived. “The next time you decide to fuck somebody else— you’ll remember me. You’ll remember this dick. You’ll remember me.”
BEN’s hips were trembling now, his thrusts sloppily getting more uneven and uneven the more he quivered— but you were no different. You watched, you watched as his cock disappeared fully into your pussy, and then back out again, drenched in your juices, then inside again.
You can feel him in your lungs.
Your breath is forced out every time BEN pushes in, your moans thinning out to little whimpers and whines and everything he gets out of you. For a moment, you felt like you were floating, head in the clouds, the weight of your shoulders lifted up and brought to what you think heaven must be like.
His breaths are now shakier. Heavier. He’s fucking into you not just hard— reckless, frantic— craving. You can hear the bed squeaking under the both of you.
BEN’s grip on your hair wanes, his head dropping down to the base of your neck, taking in your scent, mouth open and moaning impossibly loud against your skin, a plethora of fuuuuck yesss’s and pleaseee’s.
A familiar ache balls up in your gut once again, and immediately, you squirm– refusing to let him see you break apart once again– pushing his arms back and pulling your body backwards away from him—
“Where you goin’? Huh?” BEN laughs, half-high on sex. “Where ya goin’, pixie? Huh?”
With minimal effort, he pulls you back with one swift drag— how is he so strong— forcing your cunt to take him in full so harshly, making you scream in pure bliss when your clit meets the base of his cock.
As if he couldn’t have been any more harsher, BEN intensifies his pace: harder, sharper, crueller. His hand finds a way to your hair again–
“You’re gonna lay here and fucking watch,” he groans in between moans. “Sit pretty and watch.”
You squeal through tears, scratching like a kitten on his arms, thighs shaking crazily. “Ben! —” he interrupts, “No.”
You couldn’t do anything but sob messily on his cock, the pleasure and slight pain becoming too much for you to handle anymore. And as if the humiliation isn’t enough–
“Y’know– ugh, you were pretty cute when you were scared as shit,” he laughs through his moans. “But you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re cryin’ on my dick–”
You answered with another squeal– one that you were sure shot through the walls this time. You were shaking, shaking, shaking. And undeniably, impossibly hot with sex.
“Come on,” BEN taunts, “Cum on my cock— cum on it, baby–” he throws his head back with a noise somewhere between a grunt and— a whine?
“Cum on it, come on, fuckin’ do it–”
You can feel your body charge with white heat and pure euphoria rush in your veins, eyes rolling back with a cry, legs trembling intensely, your hands gripping on his arms. Your body gave out against his.
BEN moans long and loud, his head throwing back in the sudden intense shock of pleasure, hips pulling back—
A warm fluid stains the inner of your thighs, hips spasming against yours while you rode your orgasm out on his wet, twitching dick.
He’s still hard.
Hips sloppily moving up and down, you tried to ride whatever’s left of your orgasm, before snapping out of your haze by BEN lifting your thighs and pushing your knees near your chest–
He drops down steady on his knees.
You lift your head up. “Wait– wait what are you doin–”
A long, wet stripe of his tongue licks up your folds and presses against your clit. You shiver, jolts of another orgasm already stinging its way into your system.
“Gotta clean you up,” BEN mutters against the sides of your thighs. “Plus you taste fuckin’ good.” You feel his tongue slip inside your cunt again, his thumb pressing firmly on your clit. He slips two more fingers inside you—
And you were so very sure the devil himself was showing you around the gates of heaven.
BEN was deep and fast and desperate, his tongue plunging in and out of your heat, rubbing against your tight, warm pussy. His eyes remain lidded, as if he was lost in the taste of you and looking for more. His fingers pump in and out, long and sturdy from years of coding and gaming, knuckles deep inside of you. You feel him hum every time you feel yourself leak a little more of your slick on his tongue.
It wasn’t long until you came again, another orgasm ripping through you— but deeper this time, firmer.
You came with one final long mewl, then your body limps back on the mattress.
Then, breaking the silence, BEN snickers. “I told ya I’d break your security systems,” He grins over you, stupid and boyish and accomplished with himself.
You turn over, exhausted and sexed out. “You’re ridiculous.”
1:43 PM
“Are you sure it isn’t another sex game?” you deadpan at him through the screen, a VR headset hung haphazardly on your forehead.
“Nahh, it’s something for you. Like, promise.” you roll your eyes at his response.
The VR headset was shipped to your house ever so suddenly on a random Saturday morning such as today. After arguing with BEN about shipping random shit to your house, he has finally convinced you to give it a try.
“How’d you even get money for this thing?” you sigh. “You didn’t use my card, did you?”
BEN acts offended with a gasp and a hand on his chest. “Whaaat? Of course not,” he grins. “I use crypto for all my stuff, yadda yadda– just put the thing on already, come on!”
You shake your head before doing as he said. The UI greets you with a green background. No hentai GIFs, and all the buttons were equal in size now.
“Not bad,” you shrug, selecting the start button. A black void greets you once again, and your stomach churns. “Ben…” you call out, daringly.
In a flash, the whole void glitches—
Multiple screen-like GIFs of hentai ahegao with sound starts playing in all dimensions of this world you’re in, volume turned up to the max with high pitched moans and repeated voice lines of onii-chan! In every earshot.
“What the fuck– Ben!!”
BEN pops out into existence in front of you, now in 3D digital-classic VR style, grinning at you in a cartoonish fervor. “Isn’t it just fuckin’ great? That one’s my favorite,” he points to a shoujo-style GIF with the anime girl being plowed from behind. You didn’t bother looking. You raised your digital hand and slapped him squarely in the face.
“Ow!?” was all you heard before you took off the VR and threw the whole set on the bed.
You were standing in front of your microwave 4 hours later, staring deadpanningly on where the timer should be.
IM SORRY :(
You still deadpanned.
Then, another message rolls onto the screen sideways: COME BACK TO BED
You raise an eyebrow.
I MISS U SO MUCH MOMMY
You laugh quietly, setting the bowl of egg dip down before making your way back to the bedroom.
Meanwhile, your phone, left abandoned on the countertop, beeps with one message:
VIRUS|Ex boyfriend!BEN Drowned x Reader | SMUT | MDNI!
SYPNOSIS; after begrudgingly leaving your semi-digital ghost boyfriend, he couldn't exactly let go of you just yet. what harm would it do if you played into it?
TW; very very toxic relationship, sp4nk1ng, s3x with p4nt13s still on, st4lk1ng, sp1t, d3gr4d4t10n, obsessive/"yandere" BEN, gr1nd1ng
Four TV glitches that sound a bit too much like his voice. Thirteen untouched light flickering seemingly arranged in Morse code. Six suspicious refrigerator beeps every time you bend down to get yogurt.
Other than those, you think you've lost count of all the other cheeky (more on desperate) attempts from him to get your attention.
You've kept count for the past half-month, starting your toll when all the cheesy romance movies start appearing immensely on your Netflix feed, despite watching mostly crime documentaries.
You tried to speak to him. You tried to call out to him in the dark to stop messing with your fuse box. You tried unblocking his number and asking him to let go of what you two had.
All you received? Your message being left on read and a thumbs down reaction.
You dealt with it. Worked around. Found loopholes. Might have electrocuted yourself with your toaster in the process. But if it meant you had a full eight hours of sleep without your fan sputtering you awake, you'd have no problem ending up being struck by lightning.
Although you were sometimes startled, you would be lying if you said you didn't like the attention.
Nine months. You two– you and BEN, lasted nine months.
You two had it good for the first three months. It was going great, even. After the fourth month, it started going stale.
More time on his games. You didn't mind. You loved him for that.
A little bit too short of an aftercare post-sex. Used to return to his game immediately without a word, leaving you sticky and abandoned on the bed.
Every argument– every problem was turned into a joke. At first you played at it, but after a while you realized you actually wanted to be taken seriously.
And just a week after the ninth month, you broke it off.
You could remember his face. Smirk turned to pressed lips. Eyes drained empty. Fingers paled, frozen on his controller.
He stared at you, blinking like a deer in headlights while you scrambled through the empty monster energy cans and instant ramen cups, picking up every sweater, every pair of panties that was discarded either during sex, or lonely nights when he disappeared during missions for days on end.
You could hear him suck in a breath as if he was about to say something, before being cut off by you clicking his bedroom door shut.
Since then you didn't have much to worry about. Not much.
You don't hear him– don't feel him for the first few days you moved into your humble apartment.
But after you got over the suspicions and slight surprise, you learned to embrace it.
You started undressing so unassumingly in front of your laptop screen where the camera is.
Walked around the house naked more, “accidentally” spilling soda on yourself. Fingering your cunt even more on the couch, where the TV was, almost giggling whenever the channel switches to a sex scene so randomly.
But those random bursts of pleasure come with aching periods of longing. Missing. Looking.
You won't deny it, not anymore: you miss him. You miss BEN. You miss his smile, his scent, his hair, his red eyes–
You miss him.
And almost half of yourself aches, because it was you who ended it. And yet, you couldn't shake off the love you still have for him.
Those midnight talks. Dates inside 7/11 on random Thursdays eating cold hot dogs. Messing with Hoodie by pulling his embarrassing photos up.
Those memories– you knew they held something real. Something so close to love it hurts. And you know what? It probably was.
Your heart aches every time the post-orgasm clarity dawns on you, lust being covered by a blanket of hurt.
That's why you can't help but feel a little adrenaline inside when you feel him near. His little way of saying he still wants you.
And you're playing into it.
A half-finished movie about two murderers in love blared black and white on your TV. The film was already behind its climax the moment you turned it on. Typical.
A warm bowl of popcorn nestles in your lap while you shoved the kernels inside your mouth, sprinkles of salt and butter smudges onto the corners of your lips, later haphazardly wiped away by your sweater sleeve.
And as if you haven't seen the actors kiss like five times, they say what seems like their hundredth “I love you” and kiss again.
You roll your eyes. When's your show coming in?
A buzz from your phone almost startles you into dropping your popcorn.
Your head snaps to your phone, eyebrows mid-glare at the overly-bright screen.
000-000-000
Could've been us, y'know.
You scoff. You already know who this is from.
You
Leave me alone, Ben. Or else I'll have to block you again.
Your thumb immediately swipes over to the block button, but another notification pops up.
000-000-000
And wait for me to make another number? Again?
Come on, babe. U can't hide from me forever.
I'm good now, swear. Don't be like this.
Your heart aches. Just for a flash. Then you grin.
You
Prove it to me then, blondie.
You set your bowl on your coffee table, excitement ruling up in your bones when you hear another buzz.
000-000-000
Call me.
The speed of your finger pressing on the call icon was comparable to that of lightning. You swear– you think you're possessed. Every movement you make is pure instinct. Maybe a little hope, but definitely all backed up by lust.
The ringing of your phone didn't last three full seconds before BEN picked up. No face time. You disabled that to keep him on his toes, as if he didn't already see you through the TV screen.
“Hey baby,” god, you can already hear the smug smile on his voice. “You missin’ me?”
You swallow, a shallow force keeping your mouth shut.
“I sure as hell I do.” he snickers. A sliver of pain was heard from his voice. “You look good playing with your pussy in front of your laptop screen. And I certainly can't forget about you not wearing any panties during your midnight snack in the fridge.”
Your thighs press on each other, the confirmed fact of him seeing you sending throbs to your cunt.
“Tell me, pixie,” his voice was low now. “Were you thinking of me? Were you wishing it was my fingers inside you? My dick instead of that stupid vibrator of yours?”
Your cheeks heat up. “No.” You stammered, unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together even harder.
“You're lying.”
Silence. Then a hiss.
“You know, those little cameos you give me are great and all, but…”
You can hear him suck in a breath.
“They aren't exactly… audio equipped.”
A swirl in your stomach wraps itself around you, all heat and no shame.
You know what he's about to ask for.
“Take off your shirt, baby. Wanna see you be a pervert f'me.”
His words were degrading, and yet you had no intention of being dressed any longer.
First, your shirt. Your tits pop out, nipples already tightening in the cold air, an effect of the absence of your bra.
And when you reach for the elastic of your boy shorts, you hear his voice.
“I didn't tell you to take your shorts off.”
You bit your lip, wincing at your neglected heat trapped inside your lace panties, begrudgingly leading your hand to grip the cushions instead.
“Touch them, baby. Your tits. Put on a show, yeah?”
A ragged breath. Then a hand cupping your tits, thumb circling your taut nipple, occasionally pinching them like you would alone in your bed.
“Ah– fuck– I missed you, baby.” BEN groans, a repeated sound of something wet and slick backing up behind his voice. “You know how much I jack off to your photos? How many girls I've tried to find that look exactly like you? How many times I’ve shoved your panties in my mouth just to get one last taste of you?”
You hold your tits tighter, the motion on your nipples speeding up by every syllable of his words.
You could only wish he was here, his scent flooding in your nostrils, the smell of weed and burnt motherboards soothed you every time you were with him.
Your breath was ragged. “How… h-how did you manage to keep that? I thought I… I packed everything."
He chuckles. “Snagged a pair when you were packing to leave, babe. They're your favorite pair. Red thong, all thin and slutty… smells just like you.”
Your clit was getting impatient, the wet sounds of him jerking his dick off. He groans, taking a break and sounds to be him putting up a blunt to his mouth and inhaling it.
“Ben… please,” Your cunt was begging to be touched, the pressure of your thighs proving to be ineffective as the minutes go even longer.
“Please what, baby? Come on, tell me what you want.” You can hear him blow out another puff.
“Please… let me touch my cunt. I'm so wet. Please, honey..”
He groans. “That's what I like to hear.” A pause. “Take off your shorts. Leave your panties on.”
A whine escapes you before hooking your fingers under the elastic, pulling them down so messily, the fabric pooling beside your shirt.
“Good girl,” He coos. “See that pillow beside you? Grind on it baby. Don't stop until I say so.”
Your head cranes to the side to see a pillow you threw on the couch from your bed about a few days ago.
You wonder if he started thinking about you doing this ever since it was here.
Grabbing the pillow, you straddled over it, your body weight hovering over the soft sheet.
You're so sensitive it hurts. Your cunt ghosts over the cotton, starting with small, short strokes before moving even faster.
Soon enough, your hips were bucking wildly against the fabric, free hand reaching down to keep the pillow in place, lip bit so hard you can feel it about to bleed.
“That's it mama– ride it. Ride it like you mean it. Good girl,” He chides, the loud sound of him fisting his cock getting faster by the minute. “You miss riding me, baby? You want it to be me instead?”
“Yes— yes,” You cry, the unbearable burn inside you bubbling up into an orgasm.
“Stop.”
Your eyes tear up at the denied release, forcing yourself to go rigid on the warm pillow.
“Did you really think I'd be okay with you after you left me? Me?”
Your heart drops.
“Don't assume you'll get away from me that easily. You wanna see me babe? Wanna feel the real deal all over again?”
You nod, tears staining the fresh cover of the pillow.
The beep of the call being dropped startles you, gaze snapping to your blank phone.
Silence. Then, a glitch.
Not from your phone. Certainly not from the fridge.
The TV.
The film, nearing its ending, falls into a flickering green screen, patches of binary code slowly infecting the screen— forming a warp, then a portal.
And out BEN enters. One limb at a time, calm and calculated, until his whole being is inside your living room. Grinning— and terrifyingly relaxed.
The TV screen goes black behind him. You drop your phone.
“Been feelin’ so lonely ever since you abandoned me…” he trailed on. “I was so mad at you. I mean, who in the right mind could ever leave me out of all people? But seeing you miss me so much like that? Makes me feel like I deserve an apology.”
He tilts his head. “Don't you think?”
Stammering— and still very horny, you find nothing else to say. “I don't…I don't–”
“Get on your knees.”
The chance of you defending yourself vanishes into the thick air as you drop to your knees, back pressed onto the foot of the couch, eyes eagerly waiting for him to do something.
BEN inches closer, reaching down to cup your flushed face, thumb sweeping under your eye, tears being pushed to the side.
You sob a little more. You don't know why– maybe it was the denied orgasm, or the thought of him finally being there in front of you, fulfilling all your pained reminiscing of your memories with him. Maybe you were even grateful— so much that you couldn't help but cry after all the long days when you couldn't help but miss him.
“Hello, baby.” His tone was…weirdly comforting. Still sent involuntary shivers down your spine, but still had the small sting of warmth.
“So pretty,” His thumb hovers on your bottom lip. Not prying it open. Not yet. “You haven't been letting other guys use this cute little mouth, have you?”
You shake your head.
“Good. Such a good, good little girl– saving the best parts of herself f'me.”
He grins. “And I've been saving mine for you, too.”
With that, his free hand begins to mess with his belt, the buckle clinking on the ground, his pants already sagging from the loss of leather, before he tugs it down further and lets his hard, leaking cock spring free.
All while keeping his eyes on you.
Drops of pre-cum splatters itself on your lips. Warm.
You can't help but taste it– your tongue swiping itself across them, the taste of salt curling itself onto your taste buds.
Must've been from the junk he's always eating.
Your tongue lolls out again, eyes plastered onto his— begging for more.
“Aw.” He coos. “Y'like my little treat for you baby?”
You nod. “Please.”
Without warning and only a word in your mouth, he shoves himself inside, his tip already reaching the back of your throat.
You can't help but gag. You had almost forgotten how long he really is.
Nonetheless, you don't pull back. You don't push him away, either. Instead, you moan. Loud.
“There's my little pixie,” He chuckles, an array of glitches and error codes backing up his voice. “Always so ready to suck good dick.”
He thrusts. Once. Twice.
Then fucks your mouth mercilessly.
A noise escapes him. Something in between a laugh and a groan, fingers taking themselves on your scalp.
“Can't believe you were willing to leave this.”
His other hand grips the bottom of your chin, holding you into place so he could fuck your mouth deeper.
You could hear him chuckling so cruelly every time you gagged so pitifully on his cock, slobber sticking to your chin and dripping down your neck.
His pace speeds up, and your jaw burns hotter. Your cheeks strained sucking on his length, the tip of your nose repeatedly being nestled on the base of his cock.
Your fingers dipped into your panties, finding their way to your clit, rubbing it.
It's hot. Everything is hot. Your face, your body– his dick.
He looked at you from below, hand still grappling onto the sides of your jaw, even though you had no intention of pulling back. His eyes were on yours all the time– you look so perfect.
“Look at you,” He breathes. “Just where you really belong. On your knees. Sucking my cock. You wanna taste my cum? Have it down your throat all for you to swallow?”
With the little strength you have left, you nod, despite the restriction of his hands.
A groan. Then, hot cum hits you at the back of the throat.
You choke of course, you try your best to swallow it. But each muffled cough caused both spit and cum to ooze out of your mouth, then to your neck, and your tits.
Finally, he pills you back, panting.
You say there, dazed. Hair frizzled. Throat sore. Cheeks flushed. Cum everywhere.
You flutter your lashes at him, a lazy smile curling at your lips.
But him? He looks less than pleased.
“Ass up on the couch, girl. Just how I like it.”
Your limbs scramble to get yourself on the couch, your head dipping in between your forearms and your thighs propped up by your knees.
Your cunt throbbed in the cold air.
You feel the cushion of the couch behind you dip under his weight, a warm breath blowing itself on your lower back before his palm strikes your ass.
Yelping, you instinctively pull back from him before he anchors your hips with his once again.
You can feel BEN rubbing his cockhead up and down in between your clothed folds, rubbing his cum on your already-wet panties. Pushing and prodding– anything to get more of your slick out– and when it does, he jerks his cock just a little to spurt even more cum out, mixing your slick and his spend until it's a raunchy mess of stick puddling so warmly on the thin fabric covering your cunt.
Then, he lines himself up to where your fluids spill out— and pushes.
His cock, blocked by a pathetic barrier of silk from your panties, shoved inside your still-clothed pussy.
Your eyes watered and your back arched. This sensation was so new yet so familiar– like you were made for this.
His cock starts fucking in and out of you, panties still coating your slit, pistoning in and out so easily.
BEN didn't bottom out completely yet– with only half of his length inside, restricted by the fabric– to keep you on your toes.
Your hips worked to bully the tip of his cock further into you—
Not effective.
You sob. And he laughs.
“Patience, baby. Haven't even gotten to the good part yet,” he lands a slap across your ass. “You wanna work for it? Work for this dick?”
“Yes, please, please Ben, please–”
It was all he needed. He pulls away, before hooking two fingers against the elastic sticking just above your ass, fingernails raking just enough to make you gasp and squirm.
Then, your panties pool at your bent knees. The shamelessly wet fabric now long forgotten.
You feel his warm tip slide up and down your slit just like before, only this time, it slides right in.
You mewl. Loud.
“There's my naughty girl.” he bottoms out, then he goes still. “You know,” he sucks in. “I'm still waiting on your apology. Because of– well. You leaving me. In the dark. Alone.”
Sighing, he gives you another slap on your hip. “Why don't you show me something worth staying for?”
Through desperation, you buck your hips against his and grind. You know exactly what he wants.
You do it once. Two times. Then after the third, you're moving your hips forward and back, the fat of your ass rippling whenever you meet the base of his cock.
He stood still behind you, but you can feel him grinning. You go faster, thighs straining with sore muscle.
Then, his cock hits it. Your spot.
You scream, amping up your roughness of your constant thrashing, each jerk sending a burst of adrenaline that pushes you closer to your orgasm.
“That's it, that's it mama– yeah,” BEN throws his head back, his hips doing the slightest of tiny little jerks to savor the strength of yours.
“Run it back baby, run it back on me, good girl.” He chides, grabbing the fat of your hips and finally powering down on his, pounding inside with so much force, you can hear the couch squeaking.
Then, his spit drops so sharply on your ass. Filthy. But so good.
You cry out his name. You didn't know what you were asking for– everything he was saying was a blur to you. The walls were melting. Brain so close to mush. And your body felt like it would fall apart anytime.
And it does.
Your orgasm crashes down on you, and you feel yourself let go. Not only of your body, but of your sadness, of your shame.
“Fuck, baby! Fuck yeah,” His hips stutter and shake, before hot cum floods your system before you could even process it.
Silence. Then, his voice.
“Fuck– I missed that shit.” He palms your tits, giving it a firm slap before gripping it. “I forgive you, baby.”
You whine. It was as if he didn't cause this fallout in the first place.
Then, the situation dawns on you. You just had sex with your semi-digital stalker ex.
And as if he read your mind, “Come on, pixie. I know you want me back. Just let it go, yeah? I'll be better. I'm always better.”
You flinch at the sudden act of him trailing down sloppy, sticky kisses on your cheeks and down your creamy neck.
“You can't get dick like this anywhere else. Nobody could ever give it to you like this. Nobody knows you like this.”
Then, he drags his tongue up your jaw again, relishing in your cute little winces when he reaches the high of your cheeks.
“Open.” His fingers tap on your lips.
You open your mouth, strings of saliva connecting, before another glob of spit lands on your throat, leading you to choke on it, before swallowing.
He grins.
“Next time, I'll chain you down before you could even think of leaving again.”
sorry if u didn’t get tagged or didnt want to get tagged i went based off who said they wanted more PLEASE STATE YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN THE NEXT PARTS 😞
THEY CALL IT STALKING I SAY WALKING EXTREMELY CLOSE BEHIND.
ft. figure it out :)
a weird text from an unknown number? weird. it’s also weird how they seem to be stalking you.
tw: suggestive, stalking, smutish
im thinking of turning this into a mini series if it does well!! have fun trying to figure out which creep it is :))) I tried to not make it too obvious :..)
Laughing Jack — you know him. Monochrome clown, long skinny limbs, long skinny everything... yeah, that one.
He's such an unserious dude, like a running gag reel, an unending comedy set. He keeps the mood light, and that's just the temperature of him. He doesn't know any other way to be.
Jack adores nothing more than making you laugh. It's like his whole goal in life. In fact, it's pretty much the only way he knows how to do foreplay, if we're calling it that.
Smoke curled off the pan you'd just pulled from the oven, black char all that was left of what you'd been baking. He drapes over your shoulder to inspect the damage. "Babe." Gentle. Supportive. "I've seen things claw their way out of hell that looked more appetizing than this." A kiss to your temple. "I'll still eat it, for you. Smells divine."
He's leaned against the laundry room doorway, watching you bend to fish a sock out of the bottom of the basket. "Okay, new rule." Completely deadpan. "You do laundry, I supervise. It's dangerous work — you could get stuck in the dryer."
He licked his lips dramatically, a conspiring eyebrow raised while you suck on a lollipop in his direction. "Watch yourself, sweet thing. I've got something that'll give you a cavity."
He's good at the pivot. One second it's a bit, the next his hands are framing your jaw like you're something breakable he's decided to risk anyway, and the jokes slow down. They never stop completely, just turn into something quieter, more syrupy and devotional.
"Softer than saltwater taffy," he mumbles into your mouth. "And twice as hard to put down."
At some point, with tongues tangled together and hands roaming more frantic, he words start sounding less like punchlines and more like confessions he was smuggling out in between kisses.
"If I had a heart, you'd be the reason it beat."
And for one full second, he let it be just that. Honest, with his forehead against yours, breathing you in.
But he never let the tension build too strong. Like a bucket with a leak, he just couldn't hold it in. "...In theory. I don't have the equipment, so I guess we'll never know."
You giggle, and he grins before enveloping your mouth again, like your reaction got him every time.
He gets you to the bed, smile still gracing your features. Claws so light down your stomach you forget what they're really for. And then he's tickling the soles of your feet, which is unforgivable, which has you twisting and shrieking and grabbing a pillow to muffle yourself before he's even got your clothes off. By the time he does, you're flushed from laughing as much as anything else, chest still hitching, and he looks so damn pleased with himself.
"You're supposed to be seducing me," you manage.
"I am seducing you. Laughter lowers inhibitions by like forty percent. I read a study. It's possible I wrote the study."
He's an ass man. And a tits man. Honestly, he's into whatever's attached to you, but it's your legs that undo him. The way they part without him having to ask, and when his mouth finally reaches in between, he groans into your folds like he's the one being done a favor.
He's thorough, single-minded about it, certain about every move before he makes it. There's nothing funny about his tongue, long enough to be unnerving on anyone else, cool at first and then hot, dragging flat and broad before narrowing to something filthier and more precise. You've got both hands in his hair before you've decided to put them there.
Your legs hook around his neck. Calves flex. Heels dig into his nape, locking him exactly where he is. He hums into you and the vibration of it is enough to make your hips stutter up off the mattress.
You set the pace entirely, grinding down, shameless once you figure out he's not going anywhere. And he takes it, one hand hooked under your thigh to keep you open for him. He chases your bucking hips, works you straight through the first one and into the second until you're pushing weakly at his head and he finally, finally comes up. All teeth, mouth shining, unbearably smug.
"That all she wrote?"
"Shut up." A light smack to his shoulder, no bite in it.
He kisses his way back up your body, and when he finally pushes into you, it's not gentle or slow. It's a long, deliberate slide that has you both groaning. Because he's long, longer than should be architecturally reasonable. You have to breathe through the first few strokes, feel him everywhere, every inch of it accounted for.
But it's never not fun and games with Jack, even here. A shriek that dissolved into chuckles when he flips you over without a word of warning, knees suddenly under you and his hand fisted tenderly in your hair, angle changed just enough that you actually see stars. Another laugh, breathless and disbelieving, when confetti rains down out of absolutely nowhere. You feel this one before you hear it, full belly, feel it flutter all the way down through you, feel your walls catch on it and clench around him, and he shudders like he's been waiting for just that all day.
He curls over you, drives into you harder, faster, one hand sliding down to work your clit until you're right back at the edge and shaking, cheesing down at you like the two of you aren't currently doing exactly what you're doing. The overwhelm consumes you, walls bearing down hard enough that he curses and follows you over with your name broken and hollow in his mouth.
After, he collapses next to you, entirely too proud of himself, tracing lazy shapes on the back of your thigh. "Same time tomorrow? I'm available."
"You're insufferable."
"And you're glowing."
You'd call it corny if you weren't so busy losing the battle with your eyelids.
The orgasm's good. He'll tell you so when you wake up, cheerfully, no shame whatsoever. But it's not what he's after.
It's the sound. The way your whole face changes when you're happy. When your joy is unscripted, unfiltered, infectious, spilling out of you because of something he said or did.
He'd spend every second with you chasing that high.
I wrote this so fast, please forgive any mistakes😣🩶
If you openly use gacha life or any of its variants (rather it be “creating” with it or simply consuming videos about it) I’m going to assume you’re a 9 y/o lying about your age on the internet and BLOCK you.
I’d hate to change my dni card as it is so so pretty and I don’t wanna redo it 💀
For preliminary information on what this is and links to the previous years' messages, please check out this post!
The 2026 gifts are Fragment Cases (aka small wallet pouch things). This year’s messages came in a folded card that you can open. There's a mirror-like window/hole in it. Each card opens with "Thank you" at the top (in each character's unique handwriting) and the character's signature at the bottom.
***Spoilers below the cut!!***
Riddle
My dear friend—
What a simple yet classy design. How did you know the perfect thing to get me? I'll treasure this.
Trey
Hello, friend—
Your gift surprised me, in a good way. You know how to pick a present. In fact, I’d love for you to teach me how you do it sometime.
Cater
Eyyy, friendo!
I was wowed by that sleek gift you picked out for me! It's cool if I post a pic of it on Magicam and brag about it to everyone, right?
Ace
Heya, pal—
It's wild how you always know just what to get me. This thing's so cool! It's already coming in super handy.
Deuce
My good friend—
Wow! I wouldn’t have thought to go for this normally, but I love how slick it looks. I’ll keep it close!
Leona
Hey—
Thanks for the gift. You know what's up, paying tribute to the pride leader like this. It wasn't the worst choice of present, either.
Ruggie
Hey—
There's nothing better than a surprise gift! It's a waste to use something this nice every day, but I'm gonna anyway, don't you worry.
Jack
Hi.
I got your present. I wasn't expecting something so stylish, but I'll happily put it to good use.
Azul
My boon companion—
Your aesthetic sensibilities can be quite impressive at times. I hope we get the opportunity to talk more at length together sometime soon.
Jade
My good friend—
I was pleasantly surprised to receive your gift. Do look forward to the gesture of gratitude I have in store.
Floyd
Dear Little Shrimpy—
Nice move, surprising me with something. I might even use it, if the mood strikes me.
Kalim
To my dear friend--
What a cool, mature design! I'll keep it on me at all times so I never lose it!
Jamil
Hello—
I was surprise that you'd arrange something so nice for me. I'll certainly treasure it.
Vil
Dearest friend—
You've picked quite a fitting gift for me. I'll grant you the privilege of seeing me use it sometime.
Rook
My dear, dear friend—
What a fantastic gift you’ve given me! I can truly tell you thought of me when picking it out.
Epel
Dear classmate--
What a mature choice for a gift! I love it! I'll start using it today.
Idia
@/YOU
I was stunlocked by the sheer stylishness of that gift. This is gonna be a boost to my STR and DEF. WTG
Ortho
Hello, Prefect--
I've seen data claiming this item's very trendy lately! I'm so happy you picked it out for me.
Malleus
To my dear friend—
You would present me with a gift? Then I shall present you with one as well. Do look forward to that.
Lilia
Greetings!
This cute-yet-cool design is a perfect fit for me. I'll be careful not to lose it!
Silver
Salutations—
I received your present. I like the way the muted colors go together. I'll be sure to carry it on me.
Sebek
Human—
I received your present! It's not bad taste for something you chose. Be thoroughly happy that I'm going to use it.
Crowley
Dear esteemed student--
I was surprised by the gift. This design is just my style! Wonderful! I'll certainly be putting this to good use.
Crewel
Dear pup—
You've shown fantastic taste, a trait I imagine you've picked up from a fantastic teacher. Good pup.
Trein
Dear juvenile--
Your gift might be a bit too trendy for someone my age, but Lucius seems to like it quite a bit. Allow me to thank you.
Vargas
Dear student--
I wouldn't have thought of getting this for myself, but what a novel gift idea! Did you think it suited me? I'll use it a ton!
Sam
Heya, my little imp!
You picked out something as quality as anything I've got for sale! Big ups to your sentiments and sensibilities!
Grim
Dear hench-human—
Way to get a cool gift for a cool guy. I can’t wait to go out with this! Where should we go first?
♡Ushka/Mimi♡ @ushkas-archival - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
