Creepypasta Lemons And Oneshots

Evil x Reader

A request from Tokyo_Tok_yo. Thank you for this. I had to do a lot of digging, as it isn't a common or well-known character, but it was interesting and led me to find a brand new artist with comics I can read! The creator, from what I could tell, is Chibi-Works on DeviantArt. I'm sorry if I get anything wrong and please correct me when necessary. Anyways, here's the lemon.

You plod through the snow towards the towering tree-like house. It's not that you want to see this little shit, but you don't have much of a choice. He did donate some of his, ah, supplies for your cause a while back, so you owe him this basic request. Course, you also don't know how basic his request is.

Slenderman called you into the living room, holding out the phone to you. It'd been Evil, calling for you to come and do him a favor. Naturally, he'd refused to give straight answers on said request.

The door creeks open, revealing a tall room with towering bookshelves packed full of thick volumes and small jars of heads and blood and questionable blobs of mass that look radioactive. Evil is balancing on a precarious pile of boxes and books, putting away a smaller stack of volumes when he looks down. His smile is plastered over his black face, his blond hair falling neatly around his head. His grin widens when he sees you.

"Ah! Good, you're here. Sit. Have some tea. I'll be down in a minute." He gestures to a table with his overly-large sleeve.

You sit, pulling the steaming cup to you and examing it's contents. Licking it, you spit it out again as it tastes sickly sweet, so you set it down and push it away. A sure sign it was poisoned or drugged. Soon, the short being comes down and sits next to you.

He takes a drink, not saying anything, so you prompt him. "What's this favor you insisted I do?" You demand, leaning back in your chair. It's obviously not cleaning. He hasn't done that in years. Not with his collection, anyways.

He snickers that strange snicker he has. "Be patient." He notices your cup and frowns. "What's wrong with your tea?"

You scoff. "I don't drink or eat anything that's that sweet."

Still frowning, he takes a small sip of the cup and shrugs. "Well, more for me."

You only roll your eyes when he downs that cup too. He gets up and takes your hand, leading you to a ladder, up a tall shelf, and over the edge. There's a cavern in the wall where a mattress and large, fluffy blankets are nestled. His bed. It's strange, you'd never really though about where he slept--if at all.

You look at him questioningly, to which he giggles. "Lay down, now." You don't move, a vague idea of what his 'favor' entails--along with a million questions of the functionality of it and why you. He smirks. "You're not scared. Are you?"

Your face heats up. "N-no! I just... Wasn't expecting... This." You mutter, sort of cringing away from the bed.

He's still giggling. "Don't worry. It's perfectly safe with me. And I promise I'll be gentle." He hums, dancing over to you, taking your chin in his hand through his sweater. His hair covers his eyes, if he has any, and his sweater covers most of his flesh, if he has any of that either. "Just lay down."

You bite your tongue, the pain snapping you awake. You owed him a lot. And this would definitely handle the debt. So why the hell not? It might be fun. Coming to the conclusion, you reluctantly crawl into his bed and lay down, hands rest behind your head.

The cave is tall enough for him to stand at full height in, so he steps up next to you and looks down. He giggles at the sight of your slightly sprawled form before sucking his arms into his sweater and pushing it off.