Requested by localdrvboi. Enjoy!
You're sprawled on your bed, a comic in front of you as you try to focus on the words. It's hard, because your boyfriend is playing a loud video game at your feet. The damn ghost asked you out not even a week ago after barely a month of knowing each other and not killing you. He's practically moved in!
Groaning, you put away the book and scoot up so your sitting behind him, playing with his blond hair. It's soft, sometimes a little damp, and a little wavy. It's nice.
He doesn't notice when you pull off his hat, scoot up so your legs are around his waste and your fingers in his hair. He also doesn't notice when you start braiding it. Until he reaches a save point and pauses his game.
"The fuck are you doing back there?" He growls, trying to turn his head. You move it back to where it was.
"Braiding you hair because I'm bored. Go back to your stupid game." You shoot back, tying off another braid. You've done ten.
You blink, and you're on your back with him glowering above you. "You know how much I hate it when you play with my hair." He growls, blood dripping from his black eyes and ruby pupils trained on your frozen face.
"But it's too cute when you get mad." You reason, wrapping your arms around his neck. Him being permanently twelve-looking and you being a sixteen-year-old, you're at least a foot taller then him. Which makes him all the more adorable when he's mad. And when he's really pissed, he's terrifying.
He wrinkles his nose, letting his weight fall on you, resting his forehead on yours. "You piss me off so much, (l/n)."
You smirk, kissing him lightly. "But you love me. And you know it."
He curls his lip before kissing you deep and hard, his passion burning your mouth. Your hands wrap in his hair, pulling him down to you. He bites your lip, making you gasp so he can slip his tongue inside. He tastes of water, hints of blood tainting it. An intoxicating flavor, especially when it's on his lips.
He takes your wrists, pinning them down on either side of you. His tongue slides over the surface of your own before he pulls back. He's grinning and slightly glowing. "Close your eyes for a second." He rumbles.
After a skeptical moment, you shut your eyes. You feel his weight almost double where he's sitting on your hips, his hands get bigger around your wrists, his grip tightening slightly too.
His nose brushes the tip of yours, he hot breath fluttering across your face. "You can look now. Just don't scream."
Slowly, you open your eyes. On top of you is Ben, just bigger. And... Older.
Your face heats as you take him in entirely. His shaggy blond hair hangs around black, bleeding eyes with red, pin-point pupils. His tunic is pulled tight around reasonably defined muscles, his leggings ripped at his calves, knees and the tops of his thighs. You almost choke when you see his length pushing against the fabric, practically ripped free.
He chuckles, kissing your cheek. "Didn't think I could do this, did you?"
You know your face is as red as his eyes, and your mouth won't work out any words to match what your scattered mind is trying to say. So you kiss him and hope it gets your point across.
He smirks into your lips, pushing you back down, his hands pushing your wrists together to hold them in one grip. His now-free hand runs the length of your body. Caressing from your neck to your collarbone, cupping the edge of your breast and moving down, over your navel to your waist and stopping, a finger hooked into your pants. A hot rod has been plunged deep in your core as anticipation grips you, your breath catching.
