Swim💜

21, ATEEZ is my ult. But I’m a multi-Stan. Mostly poly fics but there are some individual one. Pinned is my compiled favorites, anything else is just a good read. Into more than one type of fandom, variety of content ahead.

[lucymultistan]

Luci’s Multi Masterlist

All of these are fics i’ve already read through and enjoyed the most, any other fics you are looking for will be re-blogged down below.

BTS: Masterlist~BTS

Ateez:Ateez Masterlist

TXT:

Stray Kids: Stray Kids Masterpost

Seventeen:

Enhypen:

Anime:

[theamberparadise]

Stolen Goods | TICCI TOBY x READER SMUT DRABBLE | mdni!

SYNPOSIS; After Toby gets mocked by Jeff (who has fucked you before), Toby stomps his way to your room to give you the better– if not the best– sex you’ve had in your entire life. He wants to make you scream, to make you realize that he is the better choice for you, not Jeff. Him. Only him.

TW; c*ck1ng, ch0k1ng, m0ck1ng, d3gr4d4t10n, mentions of reader getting pr3gn4nt but not actually happening, toby's jealousy issues lmfao.

A/N; i was writing for toby's thirsts but i got a little sidetracked lmfao. consider this my first separately published drabble.

Jeff’s words rang in Toby’s head.

“You can’t fuck her as good as I can.”

“I doubt you’ll make her scream– or even make any sound at all.”

“What makes you think you’ll even get as close as to making her cum? Or even get her naked at all?”

Those words were injected in his brain like stinging venom.

And Toby was more than ready to prove him wrong.

And one night, Toby couldn’t take it anymore. He knocked on your door– three times, and the second your pretty face showed itself through the cracks, he shoved you back, making you stumble backwards, and when your questions came spilling out your mouth, he gripped your arms and pinned you down onto the stuffy sheets.

That was the only thing you remember before you were shrieking your brains out, your cunt fluttering around Toby’s meaty cock, his angry tip punching at your cervix.

You had no idea why he was doing this– or why you liked it. But from all the things he’s sputtering out of his mouth, you start to gain why he broke in.

“Why– why him of a-all people?” he muttered. “Why him? Why why why–” his words were almost static to your ears, the loud claps of your flesh and the thumping of your blood in your ears muffling out any other noise– or any other bit of your conscience telling you that you were still inside a mansion full of murderers and wanted convicts who might already have heard your wanton cries.

They only got louder when he lifted your hips with his, pushing the back of your knees toward the sides of your ears, forcing you into an aching mating press that only hit your spot even harsher than before.

“T-Tob-Toby–” your weak fingers clawed at him with the strength of a kitten. Toby didn’t budge. “What did h-he have that I d-didn’t?” he growled. “Did my dick n-not look big e-enough? Do m-my muscles not imp-impress y-you enough?” 

A silence consisting of your loud cries pursued for a moment, before his chest snapped and his hands went for your throat, leaving you to wrangle and squirm under him.

“Fucking answer me!” He roared, his cock ramming in your cunt even harder than before. The disgusting squelches of your juices turned filthy. And your moans? Turned unholy.

You were begging– begging for him to let go and give you some air. Begging for him to slow down, you can’t take it.

But all those pleas go unheard when Toby keeps on rambling about his questions– his delusions– his voice getting meaner and meaner from the start of him begging so sweetly to let him fuck you, a drastic change from sweet and yearning, to rough and intimidating.

You and Jeff only had a fling-- a one night stand that felt good, but you didn't think it would mean anything to Jeff. But not to Toby, no. He took it as an insult. An offense made by you. Despite him refusing to make a first move ever since the start of your stay here.

Toby knew this fact as well. And he admits, it's his fault, too. But the thought of you giving your pussy-- his pussy up for grabs to anyone in this damn mansion? Especially to someone Toby could break in half like a stick? Absolutely not.

“How did hi-his dick feel h-huh? Was it good? B-better? Better t-than me?” 

You shook your head. You didn’t want him to be even more rabid than he is now, if he was fueled by even a tad bit of anger any longer, he would kill you.

But clearly, your pathetic attempt didn’t work.

“Then what fucking business do you have with fucking Jeff? Huh?” he hissed. And when you don’t answer, he pulls out, leaving you wriggling on your mattress. You open your mouth to thank him and whoever is up in the clouds listening to you, but are interrupted by him lifting you up, twisting you towards the wall, pinning your poor face against it while your knees tremble against the cotton of the mattress. 

You shriek once again, louder, when Toby thrusts in once again without warning. 

Your poor, bruised wrists are pinned behind you now, the wall pressing against where the underlay of your skin meets his tip, making you feel him intensely more than ever before.

Your sobs are desperate, helpless. And that doesn’t stop Toby.

“Did he make you f-feel like t-this? L-like heaven?” he snickered, in pure pride. “He won’t ever f-fuck you like this. H-he won’t ever m-make you scream l-like this. He won’t even make y-you feel what y-you feel with m-me,” his words cut through like obsidian. “I’m better b-baby, so so much b-better…” Toby leans in and drags his tongue from your chin up to your ears. “He’s a fucking shrimp compared to me, but you d-don’t even seem to co-comprehend that.” he chuckles.

“Y-yknow who’s room this is?” he reaches up a free hand, balled into a fist before knocking against the hollow plywood with his knuckles. “It’s Jeff’s room,” he taunted, a sly grin plaguing his face. “And he’s in there, right now, l-listening to you being a who-whore for me.”

You can only do so much but to whimper like a poor animal, your orgasm being on the edge, like a string ready to be snapped.

“You wanna fuck him? F-fine, you can f-fuck him, date him if y-you want,” he rasped, his pace nothing short of relentless. “But not before I get y-you fucking pregnant,” your eyes widen. “Pregnant with my fucking babies, make h-him raise it,” he giggles. “Watch the life spill o-out of his eyes when he r-realizes it’s not his… fuck, baby, th-the things you m-make me want to do.”

You cringed, cheeks heating up like never before– Toby’s threats pushing you over the edge like a boulder.

The string inside you snapped like nylon, violently shaking your body with one last cry, nails scraping against the paint, eyes shooting open like sex-filled voids, the sound of his name bouncing off the walls.

A buzz from Toby’s very-cracked phone wakes you up. Your body feels… fresh. Relaxed. He must’ve bathed you when you passed out. 

Out of curiosity, you picked up his heavy cell, the bright screen almost blinding you when your eyes take focus.

------

JEFFREY

3 missed calls, 6 unread messages

12:46 AM what the fuck are you two doing

1:28 AM open the fucking door

1:31 AM toby i fucking swear

*2 missed calls*

1:58 AM im going to gouge your brains out OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR

2:01 AM youre gonna pay for this i swear ill leave you for dead you shitty little bitch

*1 missed call*

3:29 AM just you wait, twitch. just you fucking wait ill get her back.

---------

Thick fingers reached from behind you and gently take the phone out of your hands, the feeling of Toby’s stubble grazing on your neck like sandpaper makes you jump a little.

“Schlaf weiter, Engel. Er ist deine Zeit nicht wert. Ich schon. Nur ich. Er ist nicht halb so ein Mann wie ich.” his words sound foreign to you, but you have a mental guess on what it might mean. And one thing is for sure:

It would be evident that you won’t hang out with Jeff ever again.

[gingersxng]

I’m sure, Yunho looks like this while lubing up his cock with saliva before he puts it in your sloppy cunt

[jichandesuu]

Warning!Nsfw audio

Hongjoong and you while other members are looking for you two ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

[deepestnightcolor]

i’m not asking i’m BEGGING for a fic about sam getting all worked up in the saloon bc you just won’t stop teasing him so he brings you to the bathroom and goes crazy on you. bonus points if someone almost walks in 🙏🙏 you’re an angel btw

☾ ꜱɴᴀᴘ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: Wellp. I don't know why I always make Sebastian listening in, but. Heh. Whoops.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2461 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Teasing, edging, orgasm denial, cursing, dirty talk, semi public sex, being caught fucking, Seb is a tease as well, cream pie, kind of a little humiliation.

Why did your hand have to feel so good? Why did you always know just how to touch him? No, scratch that. This was not the problem. He loved how you touched him. The more important question was this: Why the hell were you devious enough to touch him just right in the fucking saloon? Even worse, why the hell were you devilish enough to do so when Sebastian was sitting right across from you? At the beginning of the night, he had been able to handle it. It was just you squeezing and stroking his thigh after all, maybe nuzzling your cute little nose against his neck here and there. Easy. Light work no reaction type of shit.   And now? Now he was sitting there, face flushed, and a drop of sweat having caught in his brow. He had gotten hard long ago; the moment you had returned from the bathroom and had dropped your little panties into his lap when you had sat down next to him again, to be more exact. He was sitting there with a cock aching from oversensitivity, caused by countless times of being pushed close to the edge, just for you to remove your hand. But even then, you didn’t give him a fucking break; no. As soon as the orgasm had gotten out of reach again, your hand was back, stroking and touch, finding the leaky tip of his dick and rubbing the fabric of his boxers against it. “You good, man?” It was the first time in a while Sebastian had directed his attention to him again, because Sam had logged off the conversation ages ago, too busy on focusing to not moan out loud. Which was why the blond needed to clear his throat a few times before he could even think about answering. “Yeah, Sammy. You good? You have been so quiet? Don’t you feel good?” Oh, you fucking devil. The look he shot you must have been charged with energy, because his friend let out a soft laugh. “Damn, dude. You grumpy or some shit?” “No,” Sam pressed out, and of course you had to be a fucking bitch about it, thumb pressing down on his red tip the moment he had opened his mouth. He hadn’t been able to stop the whimper from rolling off his tongue, and no matter how much he prayed, the look on Sebastian’s face told him it had been exactly as audible as it had sounded. “Sam-“

“Just feeling a bit light-headed,” Sam forced through grit teeth, trying to keep his eyes focused on the black-haired male to keep them from rolling into the back of his skull. “Do you want me to get you a water?” Fuck. Fuck, no. He wanted to get home, rip off your clothes and sink his fat dick into the pussy that you had told him was so wet for him. “I think that would be nice,” you mused. God, how did you do it? How did you manage to make your voice sound so empathetic, so genuinely concerned while you knew very damn well you were the root of this? Seb gave a slow nod, seemingly unsure, yet he scooted out of his booth, making his way iver to Gunther. Sam took in a deep breath, trying to regain even just an ounce of his composure, but this poor guy failed miserably. Especially when he heard your voice, all chipper and happy: “You look so good like this, you know that? All desperate to cum, and even more desperate to not let Sebastian know anything.” Another deep breath, but you just had to giggle as you rubbed over his tip again, didn’t you? Just had to push and prod him toward the edge again, right? “Fuck this,” he suddenly snapped, standing up with more force than he had estimated, making you look up at him with widened eyes. “I am going to the bathroom now. And you better follow me,” he hissed, tugging down his white shirt before heading toward the back, leaving you behind a little bewildered. You hadn’t expected that this would have caused Sam to snap, but you took it. Standing up and following after the blond, not even caring about leaving behind a confused little Sebastian. And if you had cared? Then you had forgotten about him the moment Sam’s lips collied with yours in a messy kiss, his tongue not only licking over your tongue, but also your teeth oh so desperately. “Sam,” you tried, wanted to apologize for pushing him so far. Instead, you were turned around and pressed against the sink, Sam’s hands flipping up your skirt, and without hesitation, his hand came down on your soft skin, having you gasp out under the pressure of the slap. “Fuck, look at that ass jiggle,” he growled, another smack coming down, his cock twitching for the billionth time that night, especially when you whined again. “Not so funny when you are the one being teased, huh?” He whispered, pressing the bulge in his pants right against your bare cunt. He was trying to be just a little mean – you had teased him all night, after all! But Sammy was very well aware that he couldn’t keep up this act for long, not when he could have you like this. Not when you looked so pretty for him. Oh God, you were so fucking gorgeous. It was hard to believe that you were able to be such a fucking devil. A devil that was now arching her back to push back against the quick little grinds he gave you, a devil that had him close to breaking.

“Fuck,” Sam breathed, deciding on a whim that this was enough. He could not possibly take any more pending up, he needed that bare little pussy right fucking now. The sound of his belt and zipper went well with your panting and little huffs as you tried to push back against him, just to whine when you realized that Sam was holding you pinned against the sink, too scared of finally busting if you touched his abused dick even one more time. Even pulling his boxers down just enough felt like almost too much, making him hiss when the wet fabric finally was removed from his drooling head. “Sam, please-“ another sentence you didn’t get to finish, another sentence interrupted by a moan as you felt the pressure of his cock against your wet, sloppy hole. “You are drenched,” Sam hissed between heavy breaths, his Adam’s apple hobbling under the pressure gulps of air he had to suck only to not cum on the spot. You nodded in response, your fingers tightening around the rim of the sink, your own breathing now laboured, only for you to hold your breath when Sam suddenly pushed forward. You had expected him to enter you slowly, and he did! For the first half, at least. You cried out when a strong thrust suddenly had your boyfriend stretch you thin, his pulsing cock plunged into your walls. And just like you had done before, Sam didn’t even think about giving you a break. Oh, no. “You can be such a little slut,” he whispered as his lips found your neck, peppering quick, wet kisses over your skin, “making me so hard right in front of my best friend. Was it worth it, huh? Was this what you wanted? To be fucked in a tiny little bathroom?” You didn’t even know what to say, didn’t even want to say anything; not when Sam fucked into you like this. Deep and hard, balls smacking against your skin so lewdly. “Feel how hard you got me? God, I could fucking cum from just looking at you, but you don’t deserve it yet. Put so much effort in denying my orgasms, after all.” Maybe he was being a bit mean, especially now that he was picking up the pace of his thrusts, allowing his rock-hard dick to bully our gushy little cunt, but you definitely deserved it after torturing him all night. And you took it so well, too! Moaning for him like there weren’t any people on the other side of the door. Neither of you cared; too engulfed by bow the other felt, by how you sounded.

Another wet lick to your neck, another bite. Fuck, you felt heavenly. Squeezing his dick perfectly right, like your pussy was sucking him off. It was only natural that he wasn’t able to refrain himself from going faster, that he needed to bully your perfect fucking cunt. “Fuck, baby!” He yelped, his chest pressing against your back as he sucked a hickey into your skin, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh just for the hell of it, just to hear that tiny little squeak escape you. “That’s it, that’s fucking it, keep squeezin’ me like that, God, fuck, I am gonna fill this pretty little pussy up with so much cum, make you sit out there with it leaking out of you- anghh~ like that idea? Yeah? You clenched ‘round me, baby. Like it so much, yeah? Want to be my dirty little whore?” Even if you had the words to respond to that, you certainly didn’t have the will for it. Not when Sam’s thrusts had your body shaking, not when the metal of then piercing pressed against your walls so delicately. You much rather moaned his name, small sobs falling from your lips just for you to bite your lower one, You were so perfect to him, it was no wonder he was salivating like this. You had his cock throbbing with your sounds alone, and then you also had the audacity to look so good as he was fucking you. He wouldn’t last long, even in his pussy-drunken mind, he knew that his orgasm was close. His dick was too sensitive, and you just felt too good for his balls not to pull tight, for his tip not to leak pre-cum that mixed with your sweet juices. “Sammyyyyy,” you whined, and oh, how he knew that whine. It was slurred, and drawn out, followed by a hiccupped moan. You were close yourself, but too fucking drunk on dick to tell him. Hell, he loved you. “Cum for me,” he whispered through the strain of a groan, his fingernails digging into your hips as he pounded into you, abusing spots that made you see stars. “Cum for me like, baby. Cum all over my fat cock, let them fucking know who’s fucking you so damn fucking well.” The mixture of sounds that followed was almost deadly, urging him to fuck you faster; thrusts having turned into reckless pounding, the blond being desperate to have his cum milked by your clenching pussy. You sobbed as one of your hands wandered between your legs, giving your swollen clit a few desperate flicks, your back already arching in as your tried to grind back, so close to the edge you could already taste it on your tongue, you were close, so close- “Guys? You in there? Did Sam fucking faint?” Fuck. Sebastian. You had forgotten about Sebastian. “Seb-“ You tried, but a hand clasped over your mouth almost immediately. “No! I am fine! Go away!” Your boyfriend barked, his hips never even slowing, making you go cross eyed when his hand replaced yours, rubbing those quick circles into your clit. You started up that squirming again, the grinds, the desperate humps, your need to cum overweighing trying to stay hidden. The whimper that left you was loud, even though you were being muffled, and it didn’t help the situation, Sam’s dick throbbing at the thought of Seb slowly realizing what was happening. Seb, who still hadn’t left. “You sure? Is she okay-“ “Fuck!” Sam groaned out, the way your cunt clenched not helping at all. “She is feeling good!” He barked back, making you whine against his hand again, the high-pitched moan that was breathed into his palm oh so needy. “Cum baby, come on, cum for me,” he urged you, making you nod with a sob. One last thrust, and it was over for you. Cunt spasming around Sam’s pretty dick, drenching around him. “She’s feeling very good,” Sam laughed through laboured whines, just in case his bestie still hadn’t gotten the hint.

“Mhhhm!” You croaked through your tears, poor pussy squeezing the life out of Sam’s dick. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck, he was going to cum. “Guys-“ Seb  again, and the thought of Sebastian hearing you come undone for him, was all it took for Sam to burst. A low groan filled the room, high in pitch as he came inside of you, his hips shaking as his cock twitched with each spurt of cum that filled your gorgeous cum, claiming it as his. That wasn’t enough for Sam, though. He needed it as deep inside of you as humanly, needed you stuffed. Which wasn’t hard given with how much he came, but still. Hips shakily kept thrusting inside of you, until he finally was milked dry, the mess you two created already leaking out of you when he pulled back.

You stood there for a moment with Sam holding you up lazily, his lips finding your neck to press gentle kisses into the skin again, only hearing your heavy breathing and heart beats. “Wait,” the blond murmured after a while, pulling some of the hand towels from the dispenser, holding it under the sink to makeshift clean you up. “there we go. It’s not much, but it will do until we are back in the booth.” “Back in the booth?” “Yep.” “But- uh- I am so…full.” “I know.” You swallowed thickly, turning around to find your boyfriend grinning at you with a cocked vrow. “Well, maybe it will work. Can you give me my panties?” “Nope.” Sam chuckled at the look of surprise on your face, slowly leaning down so his hot breath was fanning your face. “You are going to sit out there and face Sebastian with your cunt stuffed full of cum, trying your best to hold those pretty little legs together and think about what you did tonight. And only then you might get back your panties on our way home.” You swallowed thickly, but Sam’s lips kissing yours took away your ability to answer before he pulled away to fix himself back into his pants, opening the door once you were decent. He walked out almost confidently, just to bump right on into his best friend. “Seb! The fuck are you still doing here?” “Well, I thought you were dizzy,” Seb said with a grin, head tilted to the side, “just making sure neither of you fainted in there.”

Suddenly, however, something shifted. Their eyes met, and the men seemed to communicate in silence before slowly turning to you, eyes landing on your legs. A smile formed on their faces and with another look at the other, they were bumping their fists together. All at once you knew with certainty: things had turned.

[beholdthebangs]

Tease

Shane x F!Reader

Warnings: dubcon, degradation, oral sex, tit fucking, dirty talk, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie

Word Count: 4.7k

Synopsis: Smut (MDNI) - You can only tease Shane so much before he snaps.

A/N: I think this is the fastest I’ve written an SDV thing before. Shane has me so fucked up rn. I just can’t get enough of the hate-fuck type dynamic and it’s all I think about. ~

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Shane looks up from the shelf he’s stocking as he feels a pair of eyes on his back. He sees none other than you, miss “community-first, anti-corporation, beacon of moralism” in Joja-Mart. A rare occurrence. And you not only stand here in the fluorescent light of the obscenely bright supermarket, but you’re wearing a cropped tank top and skin-tight shorts that hardly cover the curve of your ass. He’d think you’d be wearing a hood pulled over your face to make sure no one saw you supporting Pierre’s competition, but no, you opted for as little cover as possible. He straightens up, looking down to meet your gaze as he leans his forearm on the empty shelf in front of him. “Hi, farmer.”

“Hey, Shane. How’s it going?”

“Couldn’t be better. Need somethin’?” A polite way of asking why you’re bothering him here of all places.

“I stopped by for some seeds. Pierre’s is closed today.” You must give that guy thousands of dollars every month. He really can’t make an exception and stay open on Wednesdays?

“Sure. You can get ‘em at the register.”

“I know. Thanks.” He raises an eyebrow, as if to ask what you’re still doing here. You clear your throat and turn your attention to the box at his feet. “Need help with this?”

“Nah. It’s my job, not yours.”

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I took up your time. I can help for a second.”

Before he has the chance to protest again, you cross to his other side and bend at the waist to pick up a couple boxes of product. The way you position yourself, he can see your ass through those shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Your sleek legs that stretch under you, looking so soft to the touch. Your top rides up, exposing your lower back. You finally stand up to reach the shelf, stacking the boxes on it slowly. While Shane doesn’t mind admiring the view, the irritation is beginning to overshadow any positive emotion as he waits for you to carefully place a measly two out of the hundreds of items he needs to have stocked. “Thanks for the help. I’ll take it from here.”

You look over your shoulder and smile at him, stopping to admire your work before stepping back and bumping into him It’s probably only a second of your ass to his groin, but he swears you take your sweet time moving away. You take another step and turn back to him, apologizing and crossing your arms over your chest. You push your tits up, threatening to spill out of your low-cut tank top and you seem to smirk when you see Shane’s eyes fall to them. He quickly corrects himself, turning his attention toward fixing the boxes you set down. “See you around.”

“Yeah. Am I going to see you at the saloon tonight?” Shane nods. As if he spent his nights anywhere else. “Yay! See you later, then.”

You saunter off, hips swaying back and forth as you walk toward the front of the store. It’s hypnotic, really, your curved ass so nicely wrapped up in those shorts, one exaggerated stretch away from riding up enough to get a real taste of your bare skin. He spends the rest of his afternoon zoning out, the image of it replaying in his head. By the time he settles down in a barstool at the saloon, he’s ready to take his mind off you with a few beers and the same music Gus always plays.

It only lasts so long, though, and sure enough, you walk in a little later, wearing the same thing you were earlier. You lock eyes with him and don’t look away until you’re sat next to him, ordering a drink, only to turn in your seat to face him. “Hey.”

He nods once at you, taking a sip of his new beer. Shane can’t help but notice how your body reacts to the temperature difference of the saloon, AC blasting to combat the humid summer air. Your arms full of little goosebumps, the way you rub your hands across your thighs, the stretch of your light top over your hardened nipples which reveal that you’re clearly not wearing a bra. The idea that only one little layer of fabric separates him from such a thing bounces around his head. “Hey,” he finally responds.

“I like your shirt,” you say, surveying the soft green t-shirt he wears.

“Better than the uniform.”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I kind of like it. A man in uniform,” you giggle. “It makes you look authoritative.”

That’s a take he’s certainly never heard before. Stupid blue outfit makes him feel like a loser and he’s always been fairly sure the sentiment projected outward. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbles.

“Do you like my shirt?”

“It’s fine. Pretty simple.”

Your smile falters, just for a second. Gus sets your drink down in front of you, something fruity and colorful, and you quickly take it, mixing it up with the cocktail straws stuck between ice cubes before sucking up a drink. “You’d probably like it better on the floor, huh?” You poke his arm playfully. Shane raises an eyebrow, refusing to respond to that one. You lean back in the barstool, tucking your hair behind your ear and sipping your drink. It’s so full of ice that it doesn’t take long to finish, and you quickly hit the bottom, ordering another. While you wait, you grab the straws and stick your tongue out, running it along the black plastic slowly, so exaggerated that Shane has to fight back a laugh. Of course it has the desired effect, him imagining that tongue running flat along the underside of his cock, but you lack subtlety that makes it difficult to take you too seriously.

“You get all the seeds you needed?” he asks, changing the subject back to what they’d talked about earlier.

“Mostly,” you nod, trailing off and biting your lip.

“Good. It works in a pinch, I guess.”

“Yep, for sure…”

Just as you get your drink, Abigail walks in and heads right for you. The two of you greet each other excitedly, clearly not expecting to run into one another. And what a surprise it is, considering how big this town is. What are the odds that you both might wander into the only bar around?! Shane flips his attention between his drink and your conversation, having nothing better to listen to. Abigail floods you with compliments, all handsy with you, going so far as to grab your ass at one point. He watches the way her fingers dig into the flesh, squeezing at it and jiggling it in a way that feels so juvenile to be turned on by, but Yoba is it hot. Abigail gives him a pointed look over your shoulder, but says nothing, looking rather amused by his staring. She finishes off her drink before heading back home and you’re forced to talk to Shane once more.

“I should head home,” you tell him, sipping through the straw until the loud suck of air signals that you’ve emptied the little cup of its liquid. You go to pull out money for your tab, but Shane stops you.

“I’ll get it. Have a good night.”

“That’s sweet of you. I just made a pale ale with some hops I grew. You want to swing by and try it? Tell me if it’s any good?”

Shane pauses his dig through his wallet for money to eye you. He looks you up and down, not bothering to hide it. He’s had enough drinks, and you probably have to, to be so bold as to scan your barely-clothed body. Inviting him over for drinks at night, though you phrase it innocently enough, never has innocent intentions. He reluctantly agrees, though, throwing down some money and following you back to your farm. Once inside, you spend an almost absurd amount of time bent over, digging in the fridge, before pulling the pale ale out and handing it over. You stand close, anxiously awaiting his approval of it. He gives it quickly, because of course it’s good. You never make anything that isn’t up to your standards. You walk him through the whole process you went through to brew it while he makes quick work of it, hardly paying attention and instead staring at your lips as you speak.

After he sets the glass down, he turns back to you, falling even closer and completely dismissing the previous conversation. “I gotta ask you. You wore this ‘cause you wanted to get fucked. Yeah?” He tucks his index finger into the waistband of your tight shorts for emphasis. Your eyes grow wide at the overt accusation. “I mean, you’re bending over in front of me at every opportunity. No bra…” He tugs on the waistband, pulling it down past your hipbone. You’re wearing panties, but they’re clearly on the skimpy side, maybe a thong, “slutty panties. I can practically see through everything you’re wearing.”

“You can think what you want to,” you respond.

“I think you woke up and asked yourself, ‘how can I make someone sexually frustrated all day?’”

“Is that why you’re being so bold? Mad that I gave you a boner?”

“You want me to pretend like you’re not throwing yourself at me? Want me to act timid and hope you’ll make a real move?” You huff, backing up. He follows without a second thought. “Nah. This is what you wanted. You’re practically begging to be called out on your shit.”

You mumble some weak response as he grabs the glass again, filling it with water from the sink faucet and taking a sip. As he turns back to you, he says, “What’s bold is wearing a thin little shirt like that on a rainy day.”

“It’s not that thin.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind, then…” He holds the glass in front of your face, slowly tilting it to the side. Your brain doesn’t catch up until the water begins to fall, and your body can’t move fast enough to get away from it. Shane knows he’s an asshole for it, and maybe it is the lack of blood flow to his head as his dick has been demanding it all day. He watches the water soak your shirt, flowing down the slope of your tits to turn your shirt darker as you yelp with the shock of it. Stepping back, he smirks to himself. “It’s that thin.” Your wet tits glistening with the moisture he poured on them in the dimly lit kitchen, nipples perking up with the chilly water covering them. He can see the shape of them, but now, he can also see the pretty color. Every detail is outlined by transparent fabric. Shane sets the glass back on the counter, triumphant in his moral victory.

“Fucking asshole!” You pinch the soaked fabric between your fingers, peeling it away from your skin. Shane peeks down the neckline, running his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Lemme help.” He lifts the bottom hem, pulling it up past your tits, pausing just a moment to admire them in their full glory before managing to slide the piece of clothing over your head. You reach back for it, one hand covering your newly exposed chest. Shane laughs, lifting the shirt over his head and watching you stand on your toes in an attempt to reach it. You uncover yourself to give yourself a better chance at taking it back, but it’s futile and you both know it. “Keep tryin’, babe,” he encourages, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pressing his palm to the center of your back. He wishes he’d had the foresight to take off his own shirt just so he could feel your wet tits press to his bare skin as you squirm against him. He sure as fuck can still enjoy looking at them pressed against his torso.

Shane gives up the game, letting both hands fall down to your ass and finally digging his nails into the fat through the spandex of your little shorts. And Yoba, it really feels like he’s won now. Groping the ass you spent all. day. throwing in his face. Your sweet tits squished into him; he can look down and admire your cleavage so easily. Knowing that the second you pull away, he’ll still get the pleasure of seeing you topless. And maybe he’s too excited about all this, like a teenage boy, but he’s been pushed too far and every little victory feels so much sweeter. For someone that wants to play dumb as much as you do, you’re sure quiet now as he grabs you in all the ways he’d been thinking. You even turn your head as he dips down, getting a better grip on your ass while connecting his mouth to your neck. He grinds himself into you, bulge pressing into your shorts and grinding against the sensitive spot between your thighs with ease.

“We good now?” he asks against your hot skin. “Can you help me out?”

“What d’you need help with?” you ask, quiet as you let him continue to suck purple marks into your neck.

“Need ya on your knees.”

You’re so good, now that you’re as horny as he is. All you needed was a little tough love and friction. You don’t argue, don’t waste time, just bend your legs and settle on the floor in front of him, your fingers already working at the belt on his jeans. He tugs off his shirt, throwing it to the side, letting you look up at his—decently toned—body and follow the trail of brown hair on his lower stomach down to the waistband of his pants. He helps you pull his jeans down his legs before grabbing you by the back of your head, bringing you closer until you stick out your tongue and run it along the tight black cotton of his boxer briefs. He’s sure if his boxers were much lighter, you’d be able to see the leak of precum soaking into them. He can’t take much more teasing, soon grabbing his cock out and holding it down to your mouth with his thumb. You lick up the tip, surely coating your tongue with the thick bead of pre there and swallow it down before taking the whole head in. Your mouth is so warm and soft around him and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to stop this before you can make him cum down your throat. Fuck, he really wants to, but what a wasted opportunity it would be to leave your cunt empty.

Instead, he pushes you deeper, deeper, until your nose nuzzles his stubbled pelvis and your throat contracts around the head of his cock as you struggle for air. Despite it, you don’t try to get away, content instead in just gagging around his length until he lets go. You return to his cock immediately, head bobbing back and forth on it while your eyes flicker up to his, all big and innocent like you hadn’t been hoping for this. “Keep goin’, you’re lookin’ better than you have all day, my dick stuffed in your mouth.” You whimper around him and it reverberates through his length. He gathers your hair in his hand, a sort of makeshift ponytail, using it to make you move faster. You’re so good at opening your throat and letting him just fuck it into you. “Touch your tits, baby, I’m gonna fuck ‘em when you’re done.” He watches you bring your hands up to your chest, kneading them and pinching your nipples between your fingers, and he can’t wait to lay you down and fuck his cock between them, still wet from the water he poured. Your fingers begin to roam down your body, settling between your legs and your tongue gets sloppy on the underside of his cock, licking it up like you can’t get enough of it. So fucking sexy the way you’re trying to get yourself off while he uses your mouth the way it was meant to be used. Shane grunts, gripping tighter to your hair. “Need you to get up and walk to the couch before I cum down your throat, babe.” He doesn’t want you to listen but he’s relying on it; there’s so many things he wants to do and he can’t have it cut short by his own lack of control.

Thank Yoba you do, prying yourself from his grip after he manages to get in one last hold, tip twitching wildly as it’s shoved down your throat, and you walk to the couch. He follows close behind, immediately pushing your knees apart to stand between them. He runs his slippery cock between your pretty tits and you push them together around it. He thrusts nice and slow, his tip coming up to your neck with each one. The precum quickly beads at his head and sticks to your skin, clear lines of sticky fluid forming and covering your upper chest as he continues. He reaches down, pinching harshly at one of your nipples and you whine, biting down on your bottom lip. “So fuckin’ sexy,” he assures you. “Was thinkin’ about sticking my dick up your li’l shirt at the bar and fuckin’ your tits like that.” And damn, it would be hot as fuck to watch his head protrude from your obscenely low-cut tank top each time he thrusted upward, but he could save that for a more public fuck if you chose to tease him like this again. In the privacy of your own home, he wants you as exposed as possible. It’s only right to make you undress since you wanna go out half naked. Shane sticks his thumb in your mouth and you quickly take to sucking on it, sure to remind him of how good it felt to have his dick there. “Think you’re ready to take my cock now?” You nod, lips still closed tight around his digit and too busy to use your words.

Shane grabs your hand, pulling you to your feet and walking you over to the side of the couch. He leans you over the arm before taking a knee, dragging your tight shorts down to your thighs. He admires your slutty choice of panties now that it’s all bared for him to see, using his thumb to pull them to the side and drag his tongue over your cunt, so fucking wet from being treated like the whore you asked to be treated as. It’s so sweet and he can’t resist taking the time to push his tongue between the pulsing ring and really eat it out, swallowing every drop he can get in his mouth. He opens his jaw a little more to dip the tip of his tongue to your clit, flicking over it as you grind against his face, moaning so cute that it makes his dick twitch. Shane really can’t waste any more time—he needs to feel how needy you are.

So he climbs back to his feet, pulling your panties down and keeping them around your thighs with your shorts. The fabric holds your legs together as you’re bent over the side of the couch, ass up and cunt tight for him to take. Shane spits down at your cunt, watching it drip over your hole and add to the sloppy mess. He grinds his cock between your folds, sure to pay extra special attention to your throbbing nub that makes you gasp and whimper for him, before finally nesting his tip at your entrance. You squirm around, trying to back yourself onto him, but he keeps it just out of reach. When he begins to slip it in, it’s slow, feeling the tight ring expand more as it takes in his thick head. He watches it, hand squeezing at your plush ass, holding still when the edge of his tip finally enters. He gives just the tiniest tug back, your pussy already tightening up around his ridge to keep him inside you. It’s like your body refuses to let him pull out. To do anything but fuck you senseless. Luckily for you, that’s the only thing he’s intending to do.

Shane picks up speed as he seeks to bottom out inside you, pushing his way through your tiny pussy until his hips nuzzle to your ass. You grip at the cushions in front of you, face buried in them, moans muffled. “This what you wanted, baby?” You only whimper in response. “Tell me. Is this what you hoped for when you came to see me at work?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Shane pulls most of his dick out before pushing it back in, slow but aggressive, breath hitching each time. “Did’y want me to fuck you there? Sneak you in back and stick my cock in you?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanted to get fucked where someone can walk in and see you? Check the cameras and see you being a slut? Y’like the thrill?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Such a good girl for admitting it. Tha’s what makes you different. You’re a dirty little slut but eventually, once you get a cock to plug you up, you admit it. ‘nd good girls deserve to get fucked.” Shane’s palm smacks against your ass before he grabs it again, enjoying the way it moves in his hand as he sets a more even pace.

“Was hoping you’d fuck me in the back of the saloon,” you mutter into the cushion.

“Yeah? Set you up on one of the kegs, put your legs over my shoulders, and pound you there? Where else should I fuck you? Y’know, for future reference.”

“Anywhere,” you groan. “Fuck me anywhere, please. Feels so good.”

Good answer. Shane sneaks his hand past the front of your thigh, fingertips attaching to your clit as he angles himself downward to bully his cock into your g-spot. Your hands fly back, grabbing for his arms. His free hand manages to grab both your wrists, pinning them at the small of your back while continuing to stroke at your clit. “Need to touch you,” you say, struggling in his grasp.

“Gonna cum on my cock if I let you?”

“Yes, yes, I will, please!”

He somewhat begrudgingly pulls himself from your warm cunt, tugging your clothing all the way down your legs. You kick it off, standing up once you’re free. Shane helps you slide your ass onto the arm of the couch, tucking your knees up to his sides as he slips himself inside you once more. It’s more intimate now, face to face, and he hadn’t expected to like it so much. Being able to see the twist in your expression as he pushes all the way inside you only adds to his pleasure, your mouth falling open and your eyes all half-lidded. Shane captures those pushed-out lips in a wet kiss, realizing as his tongue enters your mouth that this is your first kiss together, having neglected it in his haste to get undressed. Maybe it’s the heightened arousal, but you’re a good kisser. Desperate and not afraid to take what you want from it, tongues fighting one another, your teeth nibbling along his bottom lip. His thrusts grow shorter, hardly pulling himself away from you and instead staying close, his hand on your back to keep you upright despite the harsh jerks of his hips. You moan into his mouth, arms wrapping tight around his neck and he can feel the heaving of your chest against his. “‘m getting close, babe. Wanna feel you cum first.”

“So close,” you whimper.

“Lemme play with your tits,” he mumbles, prompting you to pull back. He moves down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, your back arching to give him better reach as he continues to work on fucking an orgasm out of you. His tongue flicks over your nipple, letting you feel his teeth applying the smallest bit of pressure before sucking harshly. “Body’s so fucking tight,” he pulls away to praise you. “Never gonna be able to wait all day to fuck you again.”

“Don’t want y’ to.”

“Good girl, cum on my cock. Show me how bad you wanted it.” He licks his way back to your neck, fucking hard against the rough spot inside your cunt, spurred on by your moaning increasing in volume. “Yeah, babe, gettin’ so tight. Jus’ like that. C’mon, baby girl.”

You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, clinging to his biceps and he can feel you squeeze and spasm around his thick cock. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, has to fuck you through your orgasm as you gasp and swear into his sweaty skin. “Cunt’s so fucking good, Yoba. Gonna make me cum. Gotta fuckin’ fill your tight little pussy up with it. Keep squeezing me, yeah, like that—fuck!” His hips begin to roll against yours, cock twitching wildly as sticky ropes of white begin to shoot through it, painting your sweet walls with it, thick tip plugging you up and keeping it inside you where it belongs. Shane bites your shoulder as he grunts through it, refusing to let you go as he pulses in your warm cunt. “Shit, baby,” he whines, voice all high-pitched, eyes rolling back as he moves to lean his forehead against yours. You move in for a kiss, which he hardly manages to return, hand stroking your outer thigh frantically in some attempt to pull you even closer, fit the last half-inch of his dick inside you and be totally consumed by your pussy.

He catches his breath without another movement, keeping you like that for at least thirty seconds. You don’t try to move, seemingly content to be held there and soak in Shane’s cum for as long as he needs you to. When he finally regains some composure, pulling out, his cum quickly floods out of you and runs down your cunt to your ass. He stops and stares, letting you go once he’s sufficiently saved that sight in his memory for later. He offers his hand to you, helping you hop off the side of the couch to stand on shaky legs. “Can’t believe how good that felt,” he sighs, grabbing his boxers.

You reach for your panties. “Me either. Think I have to add that outfit to my rotation.”

“You can wear whatever you want. Just tell me when you wanna fuck, and I’ll fuck you.”

“Promise?”

“Try to keep me away,” Shane chuckles. “I should get home. It’s pretty late.”

“Not gonna stay for round two?”

He groans. “I work tomorrow. If I don’t get out of here, I’m sure as hell not going to be able to drag myself away in the morning.”

“Want me to visit you?”

“Fuck yeah. I’ll pick out a spot. You wanna use one of the security cameras’ blind spots, or does being on film turn you on?”

You giggle. “If we’re gonna film it, let’s stick to cameras we own.”

“Deal.” Shane grabs his shoes, slipping them on as he finishes dressing while you’re still only wearing panties, his cum still leaking down your thigh and making a mess of the frilly fabric. Makes it all the more difficult to go home. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, then.”

“See you then.”

“Have a good night, baby. Text me if you get lonely.” Shane tilts your head up, kissing you softly and beaming down at you, wishing he could just stay like this forever. The list of things in this world that are better than your pussy—fuck, better than you—is extremely short. He feels stupid for leaving, passing up another round of something so wonderful, but he walks home that night wracking his brain for new ways to please you next time. Lays in bed thinking about next time. He grins up at the ceiling in the darkness of his room, palming himself through his boxers. Next time.

[dustypixellegacy]

shane x reader

warnings: somnophilia, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampies, afab reader, p in v

wc: a couple hundred, like 600/700

note: hate doing word counts on here cos i usually write on my phone so I manually have to copy and paste each paragraph onto a word document so I can check the word count 😞

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imagine hot n grouchy sex with shane.

ofc he's a lot sweeter when you get his hearts up but sex with shane would feel like jumping into a pool of experience, i mean he's literally an ex semi-professional gridball player whos major was probably finance? or sum cos of his parents wishes and fuck off if the territory doesn't come with him hoeing himself at his frat parties and getting way too into the different scenes in uni.

bro knows. and he sure af ain't gon hide it if you react positively to his more interesting advances.

imagine being tied to the bed and taken whichever way he wants 🥴

waking up in the middle of the night to him just thrusting into you, chasing his own high and slumping back to bed once he's done filling you with his seed

and then theres the times you dont wake up during the sessions and just finding yourself sopping in the morning from when he couldn't be bothered to clean you up. 🤤

shane may be a lover who tries, consciously making an effort to be better for you but fuckin hell does he think with his dick sometimes.

he's definitely a condom-hater, spent all of his uni days keepin it wrapped and now that he's found an end game, he'll creampie you every time.

it definitely helps that you've got an implant so youve not made any little yous yet.

but when you do, you know the little things definitely gonna be conceived during one of the raw doggy styles where he's leaning his gut on your back and rutting into you like a beast on a mission, and he may as well be.

but before that, hell make sure to enjoy you in every position and in every room of the farmhouse, he'll even get one of those blow up sex beds so he can go to town on you that much more.

his influence is terrible on you, as you begin to reciprocate his mid night sessions, waking up at the crisp of dawn and sitting yourself onto his morning wood, careful not to disturb his sleep.

you bounce only so many times before a hand falls smack onto your ass mid move, accompanied by a teasing, "yer better than any alarm, doll."

his voice is deep and thick with sleep, the slight drawl to his tone forces you to clench involuntarily.

"mm, didn mean ta wake ya." you're almost shy when you look at him, the sun peeking through the clouds bathe him in a golden glow.

his eyes only slightly open but the shimmer of his gorgeous greens peek through and you cant help but falter.

the curve of his cheeks reveal a soft smile, before his big hand goes to grasp your waist.

"if yer gonna do it, do it properly doll" and hed guide you to bounce on him, faster, harder.

he'd thrust up into you every once in a while, ripping a gasp out of you. he'd smirk as you almost collapse against him each time, clearly it feels quite good when he reaches that much deeper.

in the years of your company, shane learns to just take what he wants.

hell take you even when you're farming, bending you over the fence separating the animals from the crops.

he'd ignore the fact that the livestock are right there and can definitely see you, excusing it as "animals dont really know"

he'd take you in the greenhouse, claiming that the humidity in there just turns him on.

he'd guide you to the forest near marnies, take you to the secluded spot no-one ever really went, where the bushes and brambles isolate you from the world.

he'd lay the picnic blanket he had brought along and guide you onto him.

all in all, shane is a shameless man, and he revels in the way you comply when he makes absurd demands of you, despite knowing that you'd follow his every whim.

[megwritesriddles]

Line of Fire ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Sebastian (Stardew Valley) x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 13 - Accidental stimulation. It's Friday night and the Saloon is busier than normal, Sebastian can't seem to keep his eyes off of Reader as she plays pool. He comes to offer his assistance and is left flustered, and now she has to sit in his lap...

Tags: Accidental stimulation, Dry humping/Grinding, Clothed sex, Semi-public sex, Coming in pants, Against a wall, Teasing, Friends to lovers.

Word count: 3.2k

all fandom masterlist | sdv masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: It's finally here!! Sorry I'm falling a bit behind on my kinktober but as soon as I have time to catch up I will, I've just been a little sick lately :(!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Friday night, Saloon night. Almost everyone in town was at the saloon tonight, more so than usual, as drinks were half-price tonight. You were in the little separate room off the main bar area, the one with the pool table, with your friends. This was quite standard for your little friend group, Abigail, Sam, Sebastian and you. You did this every Friday, rain or shine, but the amount of people there with you wasn’t usually this high. There were only so many places to sit. Sebastian was glad he’d been able to snag one of the chairs for himself, sitting comfortably as he watched you play pool against Sam. Abigail sat on his side, having a chat with some of the other residents of the town who were all gathered around watching the game and talking. He smiled subtly as he saw your flustered look, so many eyes on you as you tried to play your usual game against Sam. The room was filled with the hum of slightly tipsy conversation and normally Sebastian might have gone back home by now, not a fan of the noise levels, but you’re wearing such a tight skirt and bending over in his view so… how can he? He watches you line up shot after shot, a little shaky from all the eyes on you. He’s sure it doesn’t help that Alex is loudly rooting against you and for Sam. Sam has tried to get him to quiet down a few times, but Sebastian can tell he really likes the attention, even coming at your expense. On a normal Friday, you would be demolishing Sam, but he can tell your confidence is shaken. He feels for you, deeply, he knows what it’s like, especially as you still feel out of place in town. 

“Don’t you dare let anyone steal my seat,” he hisses in Abigail’s ear as he stands. She gives him a quick nod and returns to chatting with Haley, he’s never seen them get along before… He stands just beside you as Sam lines up a shot. You turn to him and flash him an awkward smile. 

“Need help?” he whispers softly. You watch Sam’s ball knock another into a pocket and sigh.

“Normally I’d kick your ass for even suggesting it but… yeah…” you admit, chewing your lip. He imagines how it would feel between his own teeth. “I can’t get my damn hands to stop shaking,” you whisper into his ear as Alex cheers and pats Sam on the back. “I feel like everyone is watching me,” 

“Well… everyone is watching you,” he comments dryly and then laughs when you smack his arm. “Okay, okay, I’ll line up your next shot yeah?” he offers, his breath tickling your ear, making you squirm and him chuckle. He watches you bend over the table and try to set up a shot with trembling hands, his eyes skimming the curve of your back down to your ass for a second. Then he moves behind you and leans over to take hold of your cue. He didn’t think this through and immediately realises what a bad idea this was when his chest presses against your back. He tries to pretend he feels normal about this, about the fact his hips are about an inch from your ass, about how the smell of your perfume is suddenly all around him. He swallows as subtly as he can, knowing he’s right by your ear and lines up your shot, fighting to not let his own hands start shaking. Sam and Alex protest loudly from across the table.

“That’s cheating!” Sam whines.

“You can have Alex line up your shot, I don’t mind,” you grin, your eyes flickering up to meet Sam’s challengingly. Sam chuckles nervously. The comment stirs something in Sebastian, your implication in what you’ve said to Sam is clear and glaring. That if Alex was to line up his shot, it would be in some way… flirtatious? Suggestive? So what did it make him lining up your shot? You shift under him, moving to more comfortably angle the cue where he’s shown you and Sebastian momentarily tenses. Your ass brushes against him through his jeans. He doesn’t spot you reacting. Did you do it on purpose? Or did you not even notice? He backs off, standing upright for you to take your shot. He stares at the curve of your ass, fighting against the temptation to grab ahold of your hips and press you against the table and grind on you from behind. That little brush had felt amazing, much more intense than it probably should have, aided by him having already been stirring from watching your ass all night as well as his thoughts just now. He doesn’t even mind the looks he gets from Alex and Sam as he clearly ogles your ass. You make the shot and shoot up, clapping excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, but Sebastian can’t help you anymore, you have to win on your own merits,” Sam asserts, shooting you both a look. Sebastian shrugs.

“Good luck, don’t get so in your head,” he whispers to you, before returning to his (thankfully still empty despite Abigail’s clear lack of focus) seat. It’s ironic, because he’s entirely in his head, trying to figure out what to make of all that. Surely you hadn’t brushed against him like that on purpose? Why would you have? Especially as you hadn’t seemed to stop to spot any sort of reaction from him. It was an accident, he concludes, a very exciting accident. You’d really felt good against him, soft and full, perfect just like you looked. He continued to watch your game intensely, his eyes straying downwards periodically. You seem calmer and less shaky now, and you’re playing better, even with Alex still there being obnoxious. Sebastian feels bad, clearly, his presence and assistance had calmed you down, but he was being a complete perv about it. He kept his eyes fixed on your shoulders and above from then on. 

You win the game despite the less-than-promising start and gloat in the boys' faces. Alex seems more put out than Sam is, despite not having been the one playing, grumbling and frowning at you. Sam challenges Penny to a game, who accepts, despite not being too familiar with the game. You hand over the cue and whisper a few tips to her, telling her to destroy Sam in a playful tone. Sebastian smiles at you fondly. You come over to where he and Abigail are sitting and pout. 

“Where can I sit?” Sebastian glances around and realises that indeed, there don’t seem to be any free spaces to sit, even the place Penny was just sitting across the room has been filled by Alex, sitting down for a drink break. It’s never been this busy in the games room before and he wonders if watching people play pool can really be this interesting to this many people.

“Sit in his lap,” Abigail suggests with a grin. Sebastian shoots her a look. Abigail is the only person who knows about his feelings for you. Sure, Sam has caught him looking at you a fair few times, but he likely chalks that up to simple lust. A lot of it is lust, it’s impossible for it not to be when you’re as attractive as you are, but he really does like you. He might even love you, but he doesn’t know how to start unpacking that when you don’t even know he likes you. He’d told Abigail because, after seeing his eyes straying a few times, she had insisted on starting to ask questions rather than just to leave it alone. He doesn’t know how to handle it when you shrug and sit yourself sideways across his lap, your thigh frightfully close to the bulge in his jeans. One of his hands flies onto your leg, just above your knee, to steady you. He swallows, surprised by the casualness of your body language given the situation. You act like sitting in his lap means absolutely nothing. He realises with a mental curse that it probably doesn’t, you’re friends, and he’s the one reading too much into it and assigning it unnecessary meaning. He feels like a perv all over again. You watch the game of pool, swinging your legs softly, oblivious to the silent conversation between Sebastian and Abigail.

They communicate through looks. Sebastian is furious that Abigail suggested this to you, even if it feels good. Abigail is just amused and tries to silently tell him that you clearly don’t mind sitting there. His fingers tense and release on your leg, wondering desperately what you might be thinking right now. His hand slides a little up your leg, just enough that there’s still plausible deniability if you question him about it, but you don’t react, your feet still softly bumping against his calf as you swing them. He enjoys the feel of your skin under his hand, soft and warm. He’s unsure if he’ll ever be granted an opportunity like this again, with everyone around you drunk enough they won’t recall seeing this in the morning,  so he sneaks his hand just a little higher up your outer thigh. Once again, you don’t react, although he thinks he sees the beginnings of a smile on your lips.

You suddenly shift in his lap, turning yourself to face forward toward the pool table. He inhales sharply and presses his lips into a thin line. Your ass is right on his erection, oddly, not for the first time tonight. He tries furiously to will it not to grow as you shout across the room at Penny, trying to give her advice on the game. You wiggle in his lap inadvertently, trying to demonstrate over the hum of conversation to poor Penny how she should position herself. He takes shaky shallow breaths behind you as you wriggle against his ever-hardening cock. By now, you must have noticed, or at least you will when you stop writhing in his lap. He’s unsure what to do, mortification setting in and his cheeks going pink. In a last-ditch effort, he places his hands on your waist and tries to gently urge you to stand. You finally stop wriggling and turn back to look at him in confusion. He sees on your face the moment you put it all together, his flushed cheeks, the hardness pressing against your backside, him trying to move you off of him. He braces himself for your anger. Yet it doesn’t come. You look shocked for a little while, but then you smile mischievously. 

“Is that what I think it is?” you lean back to whisper in his ear, your back against his chest. His hands thoughtlessly slide around your waist to hold you there.

“Yeah,” he exhales, seeing no way to deny it when it’s so painfully obvious. He’s relieved to hear you giggle softly. 

“Sebastian! I didn’t know you liked me like that!” you tease, wriggling again, making his eyes flutter. He groans softly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Shut up…” his voice is too weak to be convincing, not that he’s ever actually wanted you to shut up a day in his life. You just laugh again and continue wriggling against him. He can’t believe this is happening, that you’re doing this, knowing how he’s reacting to it. He tightens his arms around you to force you to stop moving. As much as he loves the feeling, there are way too many people around, and, more than anything, Abigail could turn away from her conversation with Haley any moment and he’d never hear the end of it. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he grumbles in your ear. “Come with?” he adds with a surge of confidence when you clearly seemed disappointed for this to be stopping. 

“Hmm, yeah, I need the bathroom too,” you chuckle and he chuckles too. You subtly grasp his hand and feel it flex under your touch. Your hand fits perfectly in his. You try your best to remain in front of him as you leave the room, protecting him from the gazes of the others in the room. Luckily, no one is paying much attention anyway. You guide him to the storeroom instead, turning to face him. He searches your eyes.

“Come here…” he urges gently, his hands coming back to your waist and squeezing gently.  You reach forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him desperately against your lips. He kisses back with just as much fervour, pressing himself against you, walking you back until your back is against the wall. His hand skims down to the curve of your hip, grabbing greedily. Your lips mould together, pressing and sucking, full of the need you have for one another, suppressed since the day you met. Your hands come up to rake through his jet-black hair, tugging gently and making him groan against your lips. He kisses harder in return, exhaling harshly through his nose. His hands are all over you, memorising your shape for later use. One hand slides onto your back under your shirt, his cool hand against your overheated skin. The other smooths up and down the arch of your hip. “So perfect,” he praises you. “Feel as perfect as you look,” his lips push harder against yours. His tongue presses itself into your mouth, exploring with clear excitement, swirling softly against yours. The kiss becomes open-mouthed and needy, drawing noises from the both of you. Your hands slide down his chest, tugging down the zip of his hoodie. He shrugs it off clumsily, too focused on getting back to you. It hits the floor with a soft thud and his hands return to your body. You map out his slender frame with your hands, making him shiver as you trace your fingertips across his abdomen. You spot him twitching in his jeans and smirk to yourself.

“When did you get hard?” you ask teasingly as his lips venture down your jaw and to your neck. You rest your head back against the wall and moan softly as he gently sucks on a few spots.

“I’ve basically been hard all night, your stupid little skirt,” he growls, carefully sucking on your pulse point, not thinking about the consequences of leaving marks on you. You chuckle, amused that you’d been torturing him all night without even realising it, he smiles against your skin, loving the way you vibrate with your laughter. 

“You like it?” you tease. He looks up at you with a soft grin, kissing down to your collarbones. 

“Yes, I like it, babe,” he nips the skin at your collarbone gently, making you sigh. He pecks his way back up to your lips once more, kissing you deeply and pressing you harder against the wall. Your head tilts to deepen it, tugging at his hair once more, which he seems to enjoy. His hand slides down your body once more, grabbing your hip for a moment before lifting your thigh and wrapping your leg around his hip, the movement causing your skirt to ride up to the tops of your thighs. You both gasp as his aching hardness presses against your clothed core. He growls against your lips, starting to softly rock his hips. You hold onto his hair, panting between feverish presses of your lips. He slides your skirt even further up, pressing as close as he can to you without removing any clothing fully. Sure, this was a compromising position that you could be caught in any minute, but being caught in some state of undress too would be infinitely more embarrassing. He grinds slowly against you, nipping at your bottom lip. You arch and squirm, feeling his fingers dig into the plush flesh of your thigh. He adjusts himself against you until he’s rocking perfectly to stimulate your clit with his aching bulge. He wishes desperately that he could do more, but he knows he can’t. “Your place after this?” he pants against your lips. 

“Yeah, definitely,” you respond breathily, using your leg to try and pull him impossibly closer. He starts to rut against you faster, twitching needily in his jeans, the rough fabric providing a delicious layer of extra friction.

“Can’t wait to fuck you later, feel you around my cock,” he groans, placing sloppy kisses across your jaw. You moan, bucking your hips against his. “Yeah? Want me to fill you? Make you feel good? I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll fuck you all night,” he promises hoarsely, his hips rutting furiously against yours. He wraps his arm around your back, bracing you in place, his other hand still tightly gripping your thigh, nails digging into your skin. You feel a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach, making you whimper and hold him tighter. “You close?” he asks breathlessly, to which you can only nod, not trusting the volume of your voice if you were to open your mouth. “Me too,” he chuckles, pressing himself even harder against you. You flutter your eyes open to look at him, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, pupils blown wide as he stares at you, lips pink and parted with soft groans. He grinds deeper, pressing against you hard, his hips starting to falter a little. He’s so worked up, and watching as you tilt your head back against the wall and moan loudly, still staring into his eyes, undoes him entirely. He ducks his head down against your shoulder, gently biting down to muffle his choked groans as he pulses in his jeans, coming embarrassingly hard, gasping for breath and letting his eyes close. He feels you still gyrating your hips against him and he helps guide your hips as he comes down from his high. He peppers kisses on your shoulder. “Come on, let go, babe,” he encourages softly. With a couple more shaky rocks of your hips, you still and cry out in pleasure as the knot finally snaps with a wave of pure heaven. He clamps a hand over your mouth, shushing you gently as you ride it out. You whine against his palm, feeling the warm haze of pleasure settling over you, your body tingling with a pleasant buzz. He presses a firm kiss to your cheek before slipping his hand off of your mouth. You can only hope no one heard you, based on the consistent buzz of conversation down the hall, you’re probably safe. You smile at each other, a little dazed. This was certainly new.

“So… my place?” you suggest playfully, lowering your leg from his hip, your skirt sliding down a little with it. He smiles, squeezing your waist once more. 

“Definitely,” he chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips which you happily return. “But I need to go to the bathroom first,” he hums, kissing one of the marks he’s left on your neck.

“For real this time?” you tease, running your fingers through his mussed-up hair. He smiles against your skin.

“I kind of have a mess to clean up,” he grins teasingly. “And it’s all your fault,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

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[rainrot4me]

Creepypasta Men React: You sitting on their lap!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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

CONTAINS NSFW MINORS DNI

✦ . Characters: {Separate} Jeff the Killer x Reader, Ticci Toby x Reader, Eyeless Jack x Reader, Masky x Reader, Hoodie x Reader

✦ . Warning: Implied smut, clothed sex, grinding, rough kissing, palming, dirty talk, pre-established relationship, edging, dry humping, whining, vague descriptions of genitalia

✦ . Words: 7.2k

✦ . Note: Suprise!! Here’s something really quick while I work on things, but I realized I haven’t posted in a while and felt bad LOL. BUT BEFORE ANYONE SAYS ANYTHING: Yes, I will be doing other characters. Yes, I will be doing the girls. And, YES, I will be doing more of these headcannon posts, I promise!! Just give me time to work!!! And this post was a good excuse for me to bully Toby LOL, I hope you guys enjoy!!!!

────────────────────────────────────────────

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ JEFF THE KILLER

It’s some time past 3 a.m. in the Slendermansion living room. 

Most of the other residents are out or asleep, and the only light is coming from the flickering TV playing some episode of Gilmore Girls Jeff put on for background noise. 

He’s sprawled across the couch like he owns it (mainly because he’s convinced he does), one arm slung over the backrest, the other lazily holding his busted phone and playing some snake game. He’s got his hood up, legs kicked out onto the coffee table, and he’s blissfully trying to ignore how his insomnia is keeping him up.

You come padding down the stairs in one of his oversized Black Sabbath t-shirts and some sleep shorts, hair still messy from sleeping upstairs. The only reason you came down is because you woke up to his side of the bed being empty, deciding that he was probably down here. You spot him immediately, and he doesn’t even look away from the TV at first, but the corner of his carved smile twitches upwards when he hears your footsteps.

Jeff glances at you, then back to the TV. 

“Hey. What’re you doing up?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you walk straight over, nudge his feet off the table with your knee, and drop sideways into his lap like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Your side presses into his chest, legs slung over his thighs, and lay your cheek onto his shoulder.

He tenses up real fast, staring down at you, then loosens when he feels your breath against his neck.

“Well, damn. Hello to you too.”

His arm that was on the back of the couch eventually curls around your waist, pulling you in tighter against him. His phone gets tossed onto the coffee table with a clatter so both hands are free, curling his other hand around your thighs and snugging your hips closer into his lap.

“Did you have a nightmare or somethin’? Need me to check under your bed, you big baby?”

You just grumble and burrow closer, fingers slipping under the hem of his hoodie to rest against the warm skin of his stomach. He sucks in a sharp breath at the cold of your hands.

“…Fuckin’ freezer fingers. Every time.”

His hands slide until they’re both wrapping around your torso, holding you close as he rests his cheek on your head. You adjust closer to him, angling your face so you can see the screen.

On the TV, Lorelai’s rattling off some rapid-fire monologue. Jeff snorts. 

“Still can’t believe you got me watching this chick-flick shit. If Ben finds out I know who the hell Rory is, he’ll never shut up.”

You feel his lips brush the top of your head when he talks, barely there, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. But then he gets quiet again, before lifting his face off your head. “You stole my shirt again.”

“It smells like you,” you mumble into his neck.

He goes still for a second. You can practically hear the smirk die and restart as something softer.

“Yeah? You’re weird as hell.” His thumb starts tracing lazy circles against your spine through the fabric, laying his head back onto yours. “…Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

The credits are rolling on some episode you’ve both seen a dozen times when you feel his breathing finally even out to something slower. His head’s tipped back against the couch, hood fallen half off, mouth slack in a way that almost looks peaceful. One arm is still locked around your waist like a seatbelt, and the other’s gone limp across your thighs.

You’re dozing too, lulled by the warmth of him and the low hum of the TV, until the quiet gets too heavy. And then you’re deciding you don’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch.

And if there’s anything that motivates Jeff, it’s a bit of persuasion.

You shift just enough to look up at his face, then roll your hips down slow, pressing into his lap with a lazy grind.

Jeff jolts awake with a sharp inhale through his nose, eyes snapping open, pupils blown wide in the dark.

“Jesus—fuck—” His voice is gravel-rough from sleep, hands instantly clamping down on your hips hard enough to bruise. “What the hell—”

He blinks a couple times, registering it’s you, then lets his head fall back again with a groaned laugh that sounds more wrecked than annoyed.

“Rude-ass wake-up call.”

His grip loosens, but only so his thumbs can slip under the hem of the stolen shirt, tracing the skin just above your shorts.

“You’re evil,” he mutters, but he’s already shifting under you, pulling you down harder against him like he can’t decide if he’s pissed or turned on. Probably both. “Pure fuckin’ evil.”

You do it again, slower, just to watch his jaw clench and that sleepy haze burn right off.

Jeff growls low, sitting up straighter so fast the room spins a little, and suddenly you’re being pushed up so your ass grinds right onto his lap, your back now facing him. Jeff’s hands find your hips on either side, tugging your hips back and forth faster than your tired body really wants to go, yanking you so your ass drags over the growing ridge in his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, there it is,” he mutters against the shell of your ear. “Knew you weren’t just tryna cuddle.”

You feel him harden under you with every roll of your hips, and your own tired grind turns greedy despite yourself, chasing the pressure, the heat, until a soft, helpless sound slips out of you.

One hand snaps up, his palm sealing over your mouth, fingers pressing into your cheek. The other arm bands across your chest like a steel bar, hauling you flush against him so your back arches and your head falls against his shoulder.

“Shh,” he growls, lips brushing your temple. “You want the whole house waking up to hear you getting off on my dick? That what you want, huh?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just uses the grip on your hips to set his rhythm again, dragging you back and forth over his clothed cock like he’s already inside you. The couch creaks under the force of it, every thrust forward nudging right between your legs, the thin fabric of your shorts and his sweats doing jack shit to hide how hard he is now.

You whimper into his palm, the sound muffled but still far too loud over the quiet lull of the TV. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Keep that pretty mouth shut while I use this ass.”

His hips roll up to meet you, grinding shamelessly, the hand over your mouth sliding just enough so his thumb can trace your bottom lip, dragging it to the side.

Jeff twists you just enough to crush his mouth to yours, swallowing the little moan you can’t hold back. The kiss is messy, teeth snagging, tongue sliding against yours like he’s trying to taste every sound you make. His hand shoves higher under your (his) shirt, palm rough against your ribs as he searches for your chest.

You’re both panting into each other’s mouths, hips still rolling slow and filthy, when the front door rattles. The sound of keys and the lock sliding come right after that.

Every muscle in Jeff’s body locks up, and yours does too. His thumb is still halfway between your lips, the hand on your chest frozen, fingers digging in like he’s anchoring you in place. You can feel his cock throbbing against your ass, painfully hard, and you’re no better, breathless and aching and terrified to even breathe.

The door swings open, and Toby stumbles in, hoodie soaked, face streaked with mud, hatchet clattering against the loop he’s got it hooked in on his belt. He kicks the door shut behind him and trudges straight behind the couch, boots leaving wet prints on the floor.

You and Jeff don’t move, you don’t even blink. 

Toby stops right behind the couch, close enough you can smell the rain and dirt on him. You feel Jeff’s heart hammering against your spine. You’re both waiting for the yell, the “what the fuck,” the inevitable groan of disgust.

But instead, Toby tilts his head at the TV, voice muffled through his mouthguard. “Ah, m-man… Gilmore Girls. I fucking luh-love this show.”

He doesn’t even glance down at the two of you tangled together, doesn’t notice Jeff’s hand still shoved up your shirt or the way your thighs are clamped around his. Just scratches at the back of his neck, yawns, and shuffles toward the stairs like he didn’t almost walk in on the single most compromising moment of both your lives.

The second his footsteps hit the creaking stairs, Jeff’s forehead drops to your shoulder with a shaky, incredulous laugh.

“…I’m gonna kill him,” he whispers. “I’m actually going to fucking murder him.”

His hand finally slips out from under your shirt, both arms falling to his sides, and he’s letting out one long, exasperated sigh.

But then you’re sitting up, pushing off of the couch and dragging your hips forward on your way to standing up. Jeff grunts, looking up at you before him. You turn and look down at him sprawled there.

“If you come to bed right now,” you say, voice low and sweet, “I’ll let you fuck me until the sun comes up.”

You don’t wait for an answer, just pivot and pad toward the stairs, hips swaying because you know he’s watching every step.

Jeff’s on his feet so fast the couch scoots back an inch. He’s behind you in two strides, hands already reaching, but you giggle and step up the stairs faster. He skips two steps at a time, catching up to you. You’re halfway up the stairs when his arm hooks around your waist, yanking you back against his chest mid-step. 

“Run all you want, babe,” he growls, mouth brushing the shell of your ear as he hauls you the rest of the way up, your feet barely touching the floor. “You’re not gettin’ away now.”

You’re still laughing when he kicks the bedroom door shut behind you both.

Then the giggles turn into gasps, because Jeff doesn’t waste a single second.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ TICCI TOBY

The porch light is busted again, so the only glow comes from the moon and the occasional flicker of fireflies out past the tree line. Dinner’s long over, the kitchen finally quiet after Masky and Hoodie argued over the last slice of pizza. 

Toby’s out on the porch like he usually is when the house gets too loud for his head, rocking chair creaking as he tilts back and forth, one boot propped on the railing, a half-warm beer dangling from his fingers.

He’s got his goggles pushed up into his messy brown hair, mouthguard hanging loose around his neck because nobody’s around to care, and he can chew into his lip and worsen his scarred gash all he wants. Every few seconds his shoulder jerks with a tic, but the beer helps slow them down tonight.

The screen door squeaks, and you step out in socked feet, hoodie zipped up to your chin, and pause when you spot him. “Oh. Didn’t know you were out here.”

Toby glances over lazily. “Door’s lo-loud as shit. Hard t-to miss.” He lifts the bottle in a half-salute. “You’re good, though. Pl-Plenty of porch.”

You wander closer anyway, leaning your hip against the railing beside his chair. The night’s cool, crickets loud. You watch him take another slow sip.

“Didn’t know you drank beer,” you say.

“Don’t usually, but J-J-Jeff snagged s-some. Tastes like piss b-but it quiets the static.” He shrugs, then pats the armrest of the chair with his free hand. “You look cold. Wood’s warmer th-than the railing.”

You huff a little laugh and step in, resting your hip on the arm of his rocking chair instead. The motion makes the chair sway gently, and Toby doesn’t flinch when your weight shifts it.

For a while you just talk about easy stuff. About how Hoodie stole his favorite belt again, about the deer you saw in the yard yesterday, about how he actually kinda liked the mission earlier today—something about putting up more pages for Slender near the lake. His voice is soft without the mouthguard muffling it, that little rasp from his tics that never quite goes away.

You’re not even really thinking when you move, you just push off the armrest and slide sideways into his lap like it’s the most natural thing when your feet begin to get tired. Your legs hang off the edge of one of the armrests, sitting sideways in his lap, back against the other armrest so you’re half-facing him. The rocking chair protests with a louder creak but keeps moving when Toby lets his lifted leg fall to the ground.

Toby goes completely still for a heartbeat, beer bottle frozen halfway to his mouth, eyes wide behind the messy fringe. A sharp tic snaps his head to the side, then back.

“Uh.” He blinks. “Hi?”

You just settle in, tucking your cold hands between your thigh and his hip. He’s furnace-hot like always.

“Chair looked comfy,” you mumble, resting your temple against his shoulder. “The wood’s warmer than the railing, y'know."

Toby’s brain seems to catch up. Slowly, he lowers the beer to rest on the porch floor without spilling it. Then both arms come up, one curling behind your back, the other settling across your thighs like he’s making sure you don’t slide off when the chair rocks.

“…You’re w-weird,” he says, but it’s soft, almost fond. His fingers start tracing idle circles on your hip through the fabric. “Coulda just a-asked if you wanted me to ho-hold you.”

“You’re not complaining,” you point out.

He snorts, a little puff of air against your hair. “Nah. Not complaining.”

The rocking chair keeps its lazy rhythm while you talk, voices low so the people inside don't hear. Toby finishes a story about the time he accidentally set a target’s barn on fire and tried to blame it on Kate, and you’re laughing into his collar when he leans sideways, groping blindly for the forgotten beer bottle. His fingers close around it, and he brings it up, takes a long swallow, then offers it to you.

“Want some? It’s w-warm now. K-Kinda gross.”

You sip. It’s warm and bitter and perfect. When you hand it back, your fingers brush his and stay there a second longer than necessary.

The flirting is soft at first, just teasing glances and the way his thumb keeps sweeping across your hip like he can’t stop. Then a cold breeze snakes through the trees, sharp enough to make your teeth almost chatter.

Toby makes a low, sympathetic noise. “C’mere.”

One arm slides fully around your waist, the other slips between your thighs, his warm palm pressing against the inside of your leg to steal the chill away. He tugs you closer, pulling your whole body closer.

“B-Better?” he murmurs.

You hum, nodding, and loop your arm around the back of his neck instead of letting it awkwardly press between your side and his. Your hand slides up the back of his neck, fingers threading into the messy brown hair at his nape. You scratch lightly, just the way he likes when he pretends he doesn’t.

“You’re go-gonna kill me doin’ t-that,” he whispers, but he leans into your touch like a cat.

Your nails scrape gently along his scalp again. “You’re the one with your hand between my legs, Rogers.”

“Just preserving b-body h-h-heat,” he says, smirking sideways. “T-Totally innocent.”

The hand on your waist slips under the hem of your hoodie, palm splaying flat against bare skin. His fingers are hot, calloused, and they trace slow, absent patterns like he’s memorizing you.

Another breeze and you shiver again, and this time you press closer on instinct, tucking your face into the warm crook of his neck. Toby’s arms lock tight, rocking you both a little faster, like the motion itself can chase the cold away.

“I gotcha’,” he mutters against your hair. “Not lettin’ the w-wind have y-you.”

You smile against his pulse and keep playing with his hair, feeling the way his whole body slowly melts under the touch. The beer bottle sits abandoned again, condensation pooling on the porch floor.

Neither of you is in any hurry to go back inside.

The kiss starts soft, almost shy. Toby’s lips are warm from the beer, a little hesitant until you tilt your head and let him in. Then the tipsiness kicks in, his cheeks are flushed pink with alcohol you can see even in the moonlight, and he makes this quiet, hungry sound that vibrates against your mouth. His tongue slides past your lips, tasting like cheap lager on his tastebuds.

You’re both lost in it when voices drift through the cracked screen door, Masky grumbling to Hoodie about something as they pass. Inside, the basement door creaks open, then shuts with a heavy thud. Then silence swallows the house again.

You pull back just enough to listen, the two of you tense, but they’re gone.

Toby’s breathing hard, eyes dark and glassy, his lips wet. You don’t say anything, just grab his wrist and guide his hand higher up your thigh, pressing his palm firmly between your legs, right where heat is already pooling.

His reaction is instant. His fingers flex, then push against you, cupping you through the thin fabric of your shorts. A sharp tic jerks his shoulder, but he doesn’t pull away; if anything he leans in closer, forehead against yours.

“Fuck… you s-sure?” he whispers, voice cracking on the last word. 

You answer by rolling your hips into his hand and kissing him again, harder this time. Toby groans into your mouth, free arm locking around your waist to keep you pinned. The rocking chair creaks beneath you both as he presses his palm tighter, rubbing in small, firm circles that make your breath catch in your throat.

“Make it quick,” you breathe against his lips.

That’s all it takes. Toby’s hand slips under the waistband of your shorts without another word, fingers sliding over bare skin, finding you already soaked. His whole body shudders.

“J-Jesus, you’re—” He cuts himself off with another messy kiss, swallowing whatever filthy thing he was about to say as he starts rubbing his fingers against you.

The porch light might be busted, but the moon’s bright enough to see every flush on his face, every twitch of his mouth when your nails dig into the back of his neck and pull his hair.

But this rocking chair is old, half-rotted from years of rain, and it never stood a chance.

You’re grinding down hard, chasing the pressure of his fingers against you and the thick ridge of his bulge under your hips, when Toby whines against your mouth.

“Fuck i-it, I don’t care w-who hears, I-I need you right now.”

He shifts you up, hands moving frantically, yanking you higher so you’re properly straddling his thighs. One arm locks around your waist while the other fumbles with his belt buckle, the metal clinking too loud compared to the quiet night. You feel him tug at your shorts, trying to push his boxers down at the same time—

The back leg snaps with a sharp crack.

You tip backward with a startled gasp, the world flipping, but Toby’s reflexes are stupid-fast as always. His free hand shoots out, slamming against the porch railing hard enough to rattle the whole thing. Wood groans under his grip, but he catches both of you, muscles straining, stopping you inches from eating the floorboards.

For a second you’re just hanging there—you clinging to his shoulders, legs still wrapped around his waist, his dick half-out and pressed between you, both of you panting like you just ran a marathon. Toby’s eyes are huge, pupils blown, cheeks scarlet. A breathless laugh punches out of him.

“…Well, sh-shit.” His forehead drops to yours, voice ragged. “New p-plan,” he rasps, already hauling you upright, dick still out and dragging against your stomach as he stands. “Bed’s more cu-com-comfortable anyway.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just scoops you up, your legs locking around his hips, and kicks the broken chair aside as he carries you toward the door, lips already on your neck, both of you laughing and cursing under your breath the whole way inside.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ EYELESS JACK

The basement smells like antiseptic, old paper, and the copper tang that never quite leaves Jack’s clothes. 

A single desk lamp throws a cone of yellow light over scattered medical notes, a half-disassembled kidney in a steel tray, and Jack hunched in his rolling chair, pen scratching across a battered notebook.

He’s writing notes over his last operation, scattered details about pulling a bullet from Tim’s shoulder, and how he needs to send Toby out for more morphine later.

“Idiot can’t even dodge a .38 anymore…” he grumbles.

He’s so focused he doesn’t hear the stairs creak until you’re already in the doorway.

You pad in wearing one of his oversized black hoodies, the sleeves dangling past your fingertips, messy hair, and an expression that says you’re clearly bored out of your skull.

Jack doesn’t look up. “I’m working.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you answer, strolling straight to his desk anyway. You lean your hip against the edge, folding your arms. “You’ve been down here for six hours. Your spine is gonna fuse.”

He grunts, still writing. “I need more morphine by tomorrow night, and Toby’s the only one small enough to fit through the pharmacy window.”

You lean further back, planting your palms on the desk so you can peer at his handwriting. “Tell Toby if he brings back energy drinks I’ll do his laundry.”

Jack finally glances up. No eyes, but you can feel the flat stare anyway. “I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy.” You push off the desk, round the corner of it, and before he can roll his chair away you slide right into his lap, hooking one leg over his broad thighs, and climbing the rest of the way into the chair to straddle him.

The pen stops moving. Jack goes very, very still.

You settle in, perfectly casual, arms looping loosely around his neck. He’s warm, he always is, like his body runs a few degrees hotter than everyone else’s.

“Hi,” you say, smiling up at him.

His pointed ears twitch, and a low rumbling sounds in his chest. “…You’re in my way.”

“Am I?” You shift your hips just enough to take the notebook out from under his hand and set it aside. “Looks like you were done anyway.”

Jack exhales through his teeth. One claw comes up, fingers curling around your waist like he’s going to lift you off, except he doesn’t. He just holds you there, claws pricking your skin through the fabric.

“You’re bored,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Deathly. Entertain me, doctor.”

He stares for another beat, then huffs a laugh that’s more air than humor. The hand on your waist slides to the small of your back, tugging you closer so you’re chest-to-chest. His other arm curls under your left knee, scooting you closer and locking you in place.

“Five minutes,” he mutters, voice low and rough. “Then I’m working and you’re going back upstairs.”

You hum, satisfied, and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Ten,” you bargain against his hoodie.

Jack’s claws flex against your spine. “…Seven.”

Jack picks his pen back up with one hand, the other still curled around your waist, keeping you pinned on his lap. He flips to a fresh page, starts jotting supply quantities in his neat, slanted handwriting while you nose along the collar of his hoodie and toy with the frayed drawstrings.

“Quit it,” he mutters, but there’s zero heat in it. His claws trace slow, absent circles between your shoulder blades every time he pauses to think.

“Nah,” you smile, pulling his hood over his head and tugging the strings until the hood cinches around his face. “See? Now you’re a turtle.”

He snorts, pushes the hood back down, and lets his hand slide a little lower, nails dragging lightly down your spine in retaliation. You arch into it like a cat.

“Stop distracting me. I still have to figure out how much propofol Toby needs to carry.”

You hum, unbothered, lips peppering the sharp line of his jaw. Soft little presses that make his ears twitch and flick.

“Jack.”

“I’m working.”

Another kiss, this one lingering, open-mouthed just under the hinge of his jaw where a little scar sits. His claw flexes against your back.

“You’re warm,” you murmur against his skin. “I wanna crawl in your skin.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You like it.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, sets the pen down, and turns his head just enough that his next words ghost across your cheek.

“Cut it out.”

You smile, slow and wicked, and drag your lips along the shell of his ear. “Make me.”

For a second he’s perfectly still. Then the hand on your back slides up, fingers threading into your hair, tugging your head back firmly so you’re forced to meet the black voids where his eyes should be.

“I said,” he repeats, voice dropped low, dangerously low, “cut it out. Or you are not going to like what happens.”

The threat rumbles through his chest into yours. Your breath catches, and his claws tighten in your hair for half a heartbeat, just enough to remind you he means it. Then he lets go, picks the pen back up, and goes right back to writing like he didn’t just set your entire nervous system on fire.

“Seven minutes are up,” he says, scratching another number. “Behave or leave.”

You tilt your head, testing the weight of his warning.

For a second he thinks you’re actually leaving—your weight shifts, thighs sliding off his lap, and something tight flickers across his face, like he worries that he’d sounded harsher than he meant.

“Hey,” the apology is already forming. “I didn’t mean—”

The words die the instant he realizes you’re not standing up.

You’re sinking down.

Dropping to your knees under the desk, hands braced on his thighs, pushing them apart so you can kneel between them. The lamp light catches the sharp curve of your smile as you settle between his legs.

Jack’s breath stalls.

You don’t say anything. You just reach for his belt, metal rattling as you tug it open with one smooth pull. The zipper comes next, every tooth loud in the sudden silence.

His claws dig into the armrests, and the seat creaks under the pressure.

“…Fuck,” he mutters. 

You look up at him and mouth two silent words:

Make me.

Jack’s head thumps back against the chair. One clawed hand drops to your hair, tugging your head forward.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he rasps.

Then his fingers tighten, hips shifting forward, and he lets you take exactly what you came for.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ MASKY

Tim stumbles in through the side door just after sunset, smelling like an entire pack of cigarettes. 

His jacket is already balled up and abandoned on the floor by the door. He drops into the battered recliner like his spine gave out three miles ago, boots on the footrest, head tipped back, mask thrown onto the floor.

You hear the groan from the kitchen and pad out with the coffee you started the second you heard the gravel crunch outside, brewed in the “World’s #1 Mom” mug that he absolutely hates.

He cracks one exhausted eye when you step in front of him.

“Your medicine,” you smile, offering the mug.

Tim grunts something that might be thanks, takes it with one scraped-up hand, and downs half in one scalding gulp. You reach out without thinking, brushing the sweaty strands of dark hair off his forehead. There’s a fresh cut along his hairline, still oozing a little.

“Rough one?” you ask softly.

“As ever,” he mutters, voice gravel-rough. “Toby set the wrong building on fire, Brian wouldn’t stop humming, and I took a crowbar to the ribs. So… y’know.”

You start to pull your hand back. “I’ll let you decom—”

His free hand reaches out, catching your wrist before you can take a step. One firm tug and you’re off balance, stumbling sideways into his lap with a startled laugh. He settles you across his thighs like you weigh nothing, coffee sloshing in the ceramic.

“Stay,” he grumbles, arm looping behind your waist to lock you there. His head drops to the back of the chair again, but now your shoulder is his pillow. “Just… five minutes.”

You relax against him, careful of the ribs he’s probably bruised under his shirt. The coffee mug rests on your knee, and he keeps one hand wrapped around it, the other splayed over your hip.

“As long as you need,” you echo, amused, fingers threading gently through the hair at his nape.

He makes a rumbling sound, eyes already half-closed. “You smell good.”

The room is quiet except for the tick of the old wall clock and his breathing slowly evening out. After a minute he turns his face into your neck, lips brushing skin in a barely-there kiss that’s more comfort than anything.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he mumbles against your throat.

“Anytime.”

You feel his lips curve, then press a kiss just under your ear. It’s soft, exhausted, but the hand on your hip slides lower, fingers curling over the curve of your ass.

“Careful,” you warn, voice low. “You’re running on fumes.”

“Fumes are enough,” he says, nipping the same spot he just kissed. His stubble scrapes your skin and sends heat straight down your spine. “Been thinkin’ about you in my lap since mile five of that goddamn hike.”

Another kiss, hotter this time, open-mouthed and lazy. His hand squeezes again, pushing you closer.

“Tim…”

“What?” He pulls back just far enough that you can see the crooked, tired smirk. “You want me to stop?”

He emphasizes the question by dragging his palm up your thigh, slow enough to make you squirm. You answer by shifting your weight, grinding down just once. The low groan he lets out is pure satisfaction.

Tim stretches just far enough to set the mug on the coffee table beside the recliner, then both hands are back on you before the ceramic even stops wobbling.

One palm slides under your thigh, hooking beneath your knee and dragging your leg up and over his lap so you’re fully straddling him, knees sinking into the worn cushions on either side of his hips. The other arm bands across your lower back, hauling you forward until there’s no space left between you.

He drops his head back against the recliner, eyes half-lidded and dark, and rolls his hips once. The hard line of him presses right up against your ass through thin layers of fabric, and the groan that leaves him is low it might as well be a growl.

“Fuck… there it is,” he mutters, voice rough with exhaustion. His hand on your thigh squeezes, guiding you down harder as he grinds up again, lazy but insistent. “Been hard since you walked in with that damn coffee.”

You feel every inch of him dragging against you, the friction perfect and maddening. His stubble scrapes your throat when he leans in, mouthing along your pulse.

“Keep movin’ just like that, sweetheart,” he rasps, breathing hot against your skin. “I’m too fucking tired to flip you over right now, but I’ll still get you off right here.”

Another slow roll of his hips, harder this time, and his fingers dig into the meat of your thigh like he’s anchoring himself to the feeling.

“Quiet, though,” he adds, lips brushing your ear, a tired smirk in his voice. “Don’t need nobody walkin’ in, do we?”

He punctuates it with a sharp thrust upward that makes your breath hitch and your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Good,” he praises, voice fading into a little groan as exhaustion creeps back in, but the grind of his hips never falters. “Just like that… little more and I’ll take us both to bed. Promise.”

You roll your hips slow at first, just enough to feel him throb under you, and Tim’s hands drop to your hips like they belong there, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growls against your mouth, dragging you down harder. “Take what you want, baby.”

You whimper, grinding down in tight circles that make his breath stutter. “Tim—”

“Say it,” he demands, biting your bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me,” you gasp against his mouth. “Want you to fuck me so bad.”

He groans like he’s dying, hips snapping up, hands bruising your hips. “Jesus Christ. Keep talking like that and I’m gonna come in my jeans like a fucking idiot.”

You laugh breathlessly into the next kiss, rolling harder, faster, chasing the friction. “Then do it. Make a mess of yourself for me. I’ll still let you fuck me after, promise.”

Tim’s eyes roll back, a broken curse tearing out of him as he slams you down against him one last time and holds you there, grinding deep and dirty while he devours your mouth.

“Gonna—”

Tim’s hips are rolling up hard, breath ragged against your neck, one hand fisted in your hair, when the buzzing starts.

You both freeze.

He snarls something vicious under his breath, fishes the old flip-phone out of his back pocket, and flips it open with one thumb.

“What,” he snaps.

Toby’s voice explodes through the speaker so loud Tim has to yank the phone back from his ear.

“MASKY! MA-MASKY, MAN, WE GOT A PROBLEM, HOODIE’S S-STUCK IN A-A FUCKIN’ BEAR TRAP AN-AND THERE’S COPS AND I T-THINK I DROPPED MY HATCHET IN T-THE CREEK AND—”

Tim doesn’t even let him finish. He snaps the phone shut with a sharp clack, tosses it onto the coffee table, and slams the recliner footrest down with his boot.

“Later,” he growls, voice dangerously low.

Then he’s standing. One arm hooks under your thighs, the other under your ass, and he lifts you clean off the chair like you weigh nothing. You yelp, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck.

“Tim!”

“Shut up,” he mutters, already halfway across the room in three long strides. “They can bleed out for ten more minutes.”

He takes the stairs two at a time, kicks his bedroom door open so hard it bounces off the wall, and throws you onto the bed. You bounce once, then he’s on you before you settle, shirt ripped over his head and flung somewhere across the room.

Downstairs, the phone keeps buzzing itself off the table and onto the floor.

Neither of you gives a single damn.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ HOODIE

The mansion is quiet for once.

Sun slanting through the dusty windows, motes drifting like snow. Brian’s parked at the long oak dining table, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a half-finished block of wood in one hand and a carving knife in the other. Wood shavings litter the table like confetti.

You pad in behind him, wearing one of his flannels, and slip up behind him. Your arms slide over his shoulders, chin resting on the top of his head.

“Whatcha doing?”

He tilts his head back into you. “Tryin’ to make a blue jay. Uh… trying. It’s starting to look like a potato I think.”

You snort, round the chair, and pluck the bird from his fingers. “Lemme see the damage.”

In the same motion you drop sideways into his lap, legs sliding between his under the table. Brian doesn’t even flinch, just opens his thighs a little wider to make room and loops both arms around your waist, hands settling low on your stomach. His chin hooks over your shoulder, warm breath against your neck as he watches.

“Go ahead, expert,” he teases, voice soft. “Fix my disaster.”

You turn the carving in your fingers—it really does look more like a tuber—then pick up the knife. Brian’s arms tighten reflexively when the blade moves, but he relaxes again the second he realizes you know what you’re doing.

“See, you took off too much here,” you say, shaving a thin curl away from the breast. “Gotta leave room for feathers.”

He hums, thumbs stroking idle circles just under the hem of the flannel. “Show-off.”

You keep working, making precise cuts, and he keeps watching over your shoulder like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Every few seconds his lips brush the side of your neck, just enough to make you squirm.

“Gettin’ good,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “Almost looks like a real bird now.”

“Miracles do happen.”

He chuckles, arms tightening to pull you back flush against his chest. “Pretty sure the miracle’s the one in my lap who knows how to handle a blade better than I do, apparently.”

You tilt your head, offering your mouth. He takes it without hesitation, kissing you sweetly and tasting like the spearmint gum he’s always chewing. 

When you break apart he rests his forehead against your temple, watching your hands start moving again.

“Don’t stop,” he says quietly. “I like the view.”

You roll your hips back, pressing your ass right into his lap. Brian grunts, fingers flexing against your stomach.

“The view, huh?” you tease, voice lilting.

He pinches the inside of your thigh, and you squeak, jerking in his lap.

“Brat,” he laughs, warm against your ear.

You swat blindly at his arm, but he dodges and pinches you again, higher this time against your hip. “Bet you regret crawlin’ in my lap now, don’t you?”

You hiss dramatically and start to push up, “Alright, assho—”

His hands are faster, though. One second you’re rising, the next he’s hooked both arms under your knees, yanking you back down hard. Your legs splay wide, hooked over his thighs, feet dangling off the floor. The chair creaks as he spreads you open like it’s nothing.

Before you can even gasp, his hand slides between your legs, palm cupping you through soft fabric, fingers pressing right where you’re already warm.

You jolt, the carving knife clattering onto the table.

“Changed my mind,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear while his fingers start a slow, merciless grind, “real quick.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder, a shaky breath escaping. His other arm locks across your chest, pinning you tight so you can’t squirm away.

“Thought you were leaving?” he taunts, voice velvet and so mean. “Go ahead. Try.”

He presses harder, rubbing in tight circles that make your thighs tremble against his. You grab his forearm, nails digging in, but he just chuckles and keeps that perfect, torturous rhythm.

“Brian—”

“Shh. Enjoying the view.”

Your hands slap the table edge, a white-knuckled grip as you rock shamelessly into his palm. Brian’s hips roll up slowly, dragging the hard line of him against your ass in a perfect counter-rhythm. Every grind of his fingers is matched by a thrust from behind, like he’s already fucking you through layers of clothes.

“Goddamn, listen to you,” he breathes against your cheek, lips brushing hot and teasing. “Gettin’ pissy with me like this isn’t exactly what you wanted. Dirty little liar.”

“Fuck you, Brian—” you gasp, and he laughs, the sound vibrating straight to your core.

“Yeah? That what you want?” He presses two fingers hard against your and circles once, so mean. “Keep talkin’ shit. Makes me so fucking hard I could split you open right here.”

You try to snap back, but he suddenly shifts. One hand plants on your lower back and he pushes, your chest meeting the table, wood shavings sticking to your shirt. The half-carved bird skitters to the edge and topples off.

Brian doesn’t even glance at it. He drags your hips to the very edge of the table, stands up behind your bent waist, and yanks you back onto his lap in one smooth pull. Your feet plant onto the ground, forearms braced on the wood as he grips your hips.

He starts bouncing you, forward and back thrusts that slam your core against the ridge in his jeans over and over.

“Feel that?” he growls, lips against your flushed cheek as he bends over your body, kissing the heat there. “Imagine that’s me sliding in raw, baby. Mmm… right here where anyone could walk in.”

You whimper, forehead pressed on the table, nails scraping wood.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Bet you’d love if poor Toby walked in to grab a snack right about now, huh? Grinding against my cock. You’re dripping for it already, aren’t you?”

Another hard bounce and you cry out, the curses you spit at him dissolving into a broken moan that only makes him grind harder, faster, chasing both your edges right there on the dining-room oak.

“Keep crying,” he pants, grinning against your jaw. “I’m gonna make you come just like this, then bend you over and give you the real thing until you forget every goddamn word except my name.”

You’re right on the edge, hips rolling back frantically, voice cracking as you beg, “Brian, please, I’m so close—”

Then the wood shavings you’re lying in betray you. A curl of shavings goes straight up your nose.

The first sneeze is small. The second is violent. The third turns into a full-blown, unstoppable fit, high-pitched and ridiculous, your whole body jerking with each one.

Brian freezes mid-thrust, wide-eyed for half a second, and then he loses it. A huge, helpless laugh tears out of him, shoulders shaking as he hauls you upright, brushing shavings off your hair and shirt.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, trying to stay serious and failing. “I’m so sorry.”

You sneeze again, right into his arm, and that only makes him laugh harder, arms wrapping around you while you both catch your breath.

“Fuck you,” you manage between giggles and another tiny sneeze, swiping at your nose.

“Yeah, yeah, hold that thought.” He bends, scoops the fallen bird off the floor, and sets it back on the table. “Little dude’s seen things.”

You wipe your eyes, still laughing, then turn and head down the hallway toward his room, tossing a lazy, wicked grin over your shoulder.

He’s after you in a heartbeat, footsteps thundering. You squeal and bolt, but he catches you halfway down the hall, arms banding around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground.

“Awh, don’t run now,” he growls into your neck, already steering you toward his bedroom. “I have another good view that I’d like to see tonight.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

๑ back to my masterlists

── .✦ rainrot4me2025, all rights reserved. ꩜ .ᐟ

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Dead End Road 𖥠

────୨ৎ────

Southern generosity- or something like that. After being stranded on the side of the road, you try your hand at hitchhiking, hoping to catch a ride home.

But when the driver starts taking a detour, you realize you might be in over your head.

!! Masky + Hoodie + Toby x F! Reader !! W/C: 5.9k

-> Including: Dubcon/CNC, roleplay, gun + fear play, cunnilingus, oral (m-receiving), p in v, degradation, objectification, manhandling, choking, praise, dumbification, slight breeding, and domestic fluff :p ->

Moon divider by @strangergraphics

────୨ৎ────

— ^ ^ —

The breeze whistled like an omen.

You were out of luck after your date bailed, and now you’re stuck on the side of the highway. The guy you were supposed to meet up with ended up ghosting you, so with no change for cabs left, you waved down a truck.

The tires screeched to a halt, and a man stepped out. Dark hair, his parted bangs shadowed his eyes, the car headlights reflecting in his pupils as he called out to you. “Whatcha’ doin’ out here?” His drawl hit you first, then the faint scent of cigarettes followed.

You replied quickly. “My, um- my date didn’t show up. Can I catch a ride with you?” Cringing at your own desperation, but the stranger didn’t seem all too bothered, simply nodding at you. “Hop in.” You shuffled over, quick to slide into the backseat while the engine came to life.

In the rush, the darkness of the night, you’d only registered the others after the doors had locked.

Another man at the passenger side, dirty blonde, with a scar running from his lip to his brow. A boy to your right, his face covered in bandages.

He greets you excitedly, tittering. “Hey, y-you’re out here pretty l-late, huh?” His stutter restarted his words like a scratched record, and you smiled politely. “Yeah, I was supposed to see this guy, but y’know.”

He grinned at that, wide, sharp. “They’ll do that to you- Toby, by the way.” His hand extended out, and you met him there. His palm felt heavily calloused, matching the scars littering his knuckles.

You told him your name, and he hummed. He said he liked it, that it ‘suits you’. It’s almost flirty, but you couldn’t tell. The seat leather sticks to your thighs in the summer heat, street lights flashing by quickly.

As the ride drags on, every time you thought that you had a read on Toby, he’d say something that throws you off. Yet he appears nice enough. Brian, as you’d come to find out, chimed in five minutes later.

“Where ya’ headed?”

Right.

“I’m not too far from here. Barter Drive- Just a little into town.” You responded, fidgeting with your thumbs. The air in the truck is a little stale- dingy, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Hunters came and went all the time, and they looked like the type.

Toby scooted closer and closer with each passing minute. Your legs were nearly touching when you finally looked up.

He was barely a couple of inches from your face, and the backseat suddenly felt cramped. “I like your s-shirt.” His raspy murmur warmed your cheeks. “Thank you, I like your, uh, sweater.”

You swallowed while he snickered. “Thanks,” Throwing his arm over the headrest, Toby cocked his head to the side, glancing at the dashboard.

“The GPS says you’re a whole t-thirty minutes away. It’s already almost one in the m-morning.”

He spoke lazily, like he knew something you didn’t. As if a decision had already been made long before you opened your mouth. “Well, if it’s too much trouble, you guys could leave me on the edge of town. I can walk the rest of the way.”

He tensed his jaw slightly, shrugging. “Mm. We’re staying at a cabin near t-the lake. It’s closer. Why don’t you spend the night? Tim can drop you off early.” A jarring offer that had you simpering nervously. “Oh, I couldn’t. It’s your space, and you don’t really know me-” However, you were cut short by a grunt from the driver's seat.

“It’s no problem. ‘Sides, we’re right up ahead, and we got a spare bedroom. You’ll be fine.” He didn’t even give you the time to respond, the truck turning off the main road and onto a path between the shrubbery.

The wheels ground against the gravel, the vehicle jolting until it slowed to a stop. Through the window, you could spot a sign in front of the car. “Dead End Road.”

The trail went past their cabin slightly, cutting off abruptly at the trees' border. The house itself sat in the middle of the small clearing. Built from scuffed wood, with a single porch light hanging above the door. Something about the seclusion, the sign that stood out amongst the vast oak, had your gut uneasy.

A warning.

You inhaled shallowly, then Toby hooked an arm around your neck. “Let’s go, c’mon.” Too cheery, he tugged you out of the backseat, dragging you to the porch while your feet scrambled to catch up. The other two followed suit, and you were standing in the foyer in less than five minutes.

“It’s nice in here.” Trying your best to be cordial, you set your shoes on the mat as they did the same. “Well, it ain’t much, but it does what it’s supposed to,” Tim said, nodding at you. Toby then ushered you to walk, and you made your way down the hall. Upon entering the living room, you met eyes with Brian, the man already settled on a lounge chair.

The fireplace crackled, and you waved at him, unsure of how to proceed. “Hi.” His lips twitched up at that, an almost smile when you locked eyes. “Hey.” Toby rested his palm on your lower back, intimate in a way you didn’t expect. His hand pushed you deeper into the room, and he brought you over to the couch, dropping down next to you.

Tim had slumped into a recliner to your left, your seats circling the hearth. His lighter sparked once, twice, before he inhaled, the cigarette burning faintly. “You want somethin’ to drink?” You shook your head, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Where’s the spare room? I think I’m gonna’ turn in-” Brian piped up, interrupting you.

“The night's young, ain’t it?”

Even without looking around, you could feel their eyes boring into you. Like starved wolves waiting for prey to take the bait. “You’re s-so tense,” Toby’s hand was too warm on your thigh, and he closed the proximity by a fraction, nose almost brushing yours when you faced him. “Breathe, jeez.” He sniggered, his pupils flicking down to your lips.

Your heart beat loudly in your ears, body frozen by the atmosphere. Borderline claustrophobic. “Sorry.” You mumbled, having his grin stretch. In that moment, your dead phone came to mind, the evident lack of outside communication enveloping you. “Don’t apologize. We’re just t-talking, nothing s-serious.” His voice had muted to a whisper, then he leaned forward.

Your mouths slotted together, and you scrambled to grip his shoulders. The force of the kiss knocked you onto your back, his frame effectively pinning you down. He wasted no time, with his hips beginning to grind as you struggled for air.

Saliva breached in strings between your lips when he withdrew. “You’re so pretty, y’know that? It makes it h-hard to hold back.” Your eyes were wide, breath coming in short puffs. “I- I thought-” You stuttered, and Tim shoved off his chair, coming into view while you swallowed dryly. His cigarette had been stubbed out into an ashtray, and he crouched.

“I know you’re pent up, s’alright. You jus’ need a little push.” He grasped your chin, forcing your head to the side. His tongue invaded your mouth in a blink, exploring the cavern hungrily. Messy, as your teeth clicked, and you felt Toby start to nibble down your throat. Drifting lower until he slinked off the sofa, his knees thudding against the carpet.

Your jeans were unbuckled, his fingers moving fast- you jerked, making Tim recline. He ran his tongue over his canines. “Relax. It’ll feel good, promise.” Dread, fear and a violating excitement licked up your spine. These were not good men, disgustingly scummy at best, and dangerous at worst. Yet your thighs twitched at the base of his words anyway.

The shorts were towed down your legs, getting tossed onto the floor before Toby mouthed at your clothed cunt. The heat of his tongue had you gasping, and Tim hooked a finger at your shirt’s edge. It was yanked up, exposing your chest. “No bra? I’m startin’ to think you were planning for this.” He snickered, groping the plush.

With Toby humming against your core, Tim began to leave hickeys across your breasts- you arched involuntarily. “Wait, please.” The pleasure came crashing through your body, principal and self-preservation clashing with the wetness building inside your panties. Toby was lapping at you through the cotton, his tongue prodding between your folds, nose nudging your clit.

Your hips started moving on their own, bucking against his face as you whined. He parted from you, licking his lips. “Masky- s-she’s soaked, man. I didn’t even do anything yet.” He chuckled. Yanking you towards him while Tim swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud. Mouth on one, his hand toying with the other.

“Sensitive, ain’t you?” He drawled, giving you one last nip, then rising to his feet. You trembled, Toby devouring you whole when your eyes finally focused on Tim. His buckle clinked, belt hanging loose. You watched him tug at his zipper before his boxer band was pulled down. Hefty, pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock, with a vein along the underside.

He propped a knee behind your head, guiding himself to your lips. “Open up, girl.” He rasped, and your jaw fell slack, salt coating your palate. He rocked inside slowly, lids drooping as he groaned. The sound had you clenching on nothing, and Toby pushed your ruined underwear to the side.

His mouth was so wet. Licking up your spillage, the slick dribbling down his chin. Your eyes rolled up, moaning lewdly around Tim’s length, and he buried his fingers in your hair. Sinking deeper, with the tip grazing the back of your throat. You scratched at the cushions, hands balled by your sides. “Look at you- just fuckin’ askin’ for it.” He scoffed, a cruel smirk spreading across his face.

His grip became harsh, and he hauled you flush against his pelvis. Thrusting his cock balls deep while you gagged. “Chokin’ on me like I’m your man. Where’s yer’ shame, yeah?” He huffed, watching the tears stream down your cheeks. “You ain’t too bad on the eyes, though. Prettiest whore I ever seen.” You writhed in his hold.

The coil in your gut curled taut, building and building- your thighs clamped around Toby’s ears. Your cunt was pulsing wildly, overwhelmed by his tongue. “Mm- fuck.” He groaned into your mound, gulping like it’d kill him if he let your cum go to waste. His fingers dug into your hips, grinding you onto his mouth.

Your legs were shaking when Tim grunted, spilling down your throat hotly. He slid himself past your lips with a low whistle, satisfied. Toby wiped his chin clumsily, crawling onto you as the other man stepped back. However, he was halted by Tim calling out to him. “Rogers, the hell I tell you?” He pouted at that, begrudgingly pushing away from you.

“But I prepped h-her-” He was silenced by Tim’s cold glare, gritting his teeth while he slouched into the armrest. “Can I use her mouth then?” He said, glancing at you, and Tim gave him a curt nod.

Shifting your limp body upright, then hoisting you onto his lap. His cock nudged between the folds of your pussy, lining up the tip with your entrance.

Your head was spinning. Their hands felt wrong on you, but your body was betraying you. Your thighs were sticky, and the mewl that left you when he sank you down on his girth didn’t help your case. You were being stretched beyond your limits, skin dewy with sweat. His cock had fit snug inside you, and it curved to press on your sweet spot hard enough to make your eyes cross. “Ah-”

Toby had shuffled in front of you, jeans already shoved below his ass as he pumped his cock. “Y-you want it, right?” He loomed over you, petting your cheek with an unsteady hand. “Say it. You w-want me-” His careful nature seemed to wane the longer it took for you to respond- ignoring the fact that he was talking a mile a minute.

His once-gentle touch turned abrasive, and he yanked your head back, his grip tangled in your hair. “Say you f-fucking want me.” He snarled, his eyes swimming with a violent desperation. When you nodded frantically, his grasp softened a bit, Toby laughing as if he was drunk. Pupils blown wide. “Yeah- yeah, okay. ‘Cause y-you’re really special, and I don’t wanna’ make you s-sad.”

His pre-cum smeared against your lips while he angled his cock head, filling your throat in one thrust. You hiccuped pathetically at the intrusion, and he cradled your face, rolling his hips forward. “Oh, shit. Ngh- you’re so perfect. Feels s’good- fuck.” You didn’t even have the time to adjust, because Tim started bouncing you a second later.

His cock was thumping up into your cervix, arms hooked under your knees as leverage. Stuffed from both ends, with Toby fucking your mouth, and Tim slamming into your cunt. Your brain was melting.

You could barely keep your eyes open, vision blurry while you blinked. Your gaze drifted past Toby, and the sight had you whining. Brian was slumped against the loveseat, boxers towed off just enough for him to stroke himself. At first glance, he appeared unaffected, but if you looked closer, you’d see it.

The flush in his cheeks, the heave of his chest. His brows were fighting to knot together as he stared, with his eyes half-lidded. Something about being watched with such fervour made you shiver, and Tim’s head pitched back.

You were squeezing down on him like a vice, your little noises having him twitch inside you. He reached up, dragging his hand over your chest and kneading the fat of your tits.

“Fuckin’ made for this, yeah? Gettin’ off to being used by motherfuckers you ain’t know-” He rolled his neck to the left before burying his nose into your shoulder.

“You wanted to act like you hated it, huh? Cry like you ain’t beggin’ for it- fuckin’ slut.” Mocking, his hips drove into you harder, pounding into you with abandon.

You clenched around him, and he cooed, licking a stripe up your neck. “I know, baby. I’ll fill you up- hah- real good.” The squelch of your pussy was embarrassingly loud, your arousal drenching his thighs.

Toby collapsed into you, catching himself with a palm against the couch’s headrest. He held your head firmly in place, his length pumping in and out of your throat. He was panting, drooling like a dog. You felt so fucking good, he couldn’t think. “Ah- shit, please.” His base smacked against your chin, slobber mixing with semi-opaque white.

He came with a breathy grunt, hips jolting- before he quickly tugged himself free. Jacking off onto your face, painting your skin with thick ropes. The gluey substance dripped down your features, milk pooling on your tongue as you presented your mouth. Too far gone, and he giggled, manic. “You’re s-such a good girl, y’know that?” Mashing his lips to yours, cum swirling with his own spit while the other man flooded your tunnel.

“Shit. You’re makin’ me wanna’ keep you.” Tim drawled, taking a moment to catch his breath. he pulled you off of him, letting you slump into the sofa, boneless. Once his words actually registered, the alarm in your gaze made him chuckle.

“Oh, honey- don’t tell me you thought you were still goin’ home.”

Your blood ran cold when he nodded at Brian. “Have at ‘er.” The man stood after the quick acknowledgment, padding over to you, half-tucked back into his boxers. If you’d been more observant, more cautious or weary, you would’ve noticed the holster attached to the back of his belt.

The distinct click of a pistol's safety rang out as Toby sat down to your right, and he kneeled in front of you.

Holding up the weapon, he cocked his head to the side. “You know what this is?” Panic spread from the end of your legs up to your skull. Your mouth faltered, gaping at him until he hummed, monotone. “You scared?” Your body refused to respond, and he lowered the gun, tapping your bare stomach twice with the barrel. “You should be.”

The hairs on your nape rose while he got to his feet. He trailed the cold steel along your collar, stopping at your lips. The harshness of the barrel left goose bumps in its wake, lethal, unhallowed. “Suck.” You swallowed thickly, tears collecting at your lashline. You leaned forward, quivering when you took the metal into your mouth.

The taste coated your tongue bitterly, like grit and unsanctioned barbarity. Adrenaline kept you upright, the only thing holding you back from hyperventilating.

You wish you ran. You wish you had toughed it out till morning, finding a payphone to call a friend. But you didn’t, and you hadn’t.

You bobbed your head slightly, gurgling around the pistol when he forced it deeper. In your periphery, you saw the blur of his hand, and you flinched—

A pet.

He was petting your hair. Smoothing down the strays, his thumb rubbing back and forth. The shock made you freeze, but he was swift to remind you. “Go on.” Not yelling. Not barking demands. Because he didn’t need to.

His calm demeanour was terrifying, too calculating- like he could snap at any moment. As if your fate could be altered at a second's notice, your life sitting in the palm of his hand.

Brian’s inhales grew heavy, dragging his tongue across his teeth. His touch descended from the top of your head to your nape, resting the gun’s grip where his buckle would be as he began rocking his hips. “See? That ain’t so bad.” He murmured, grunting under his breath. He was grinding his bulge against the pistol, the muted pleasure rolling up his frame.

You were scared, fearing your end, your sanity hanging by a thread. Every muscle in your body was screaming, winding tight- before a debased want sparked at your core. Small flickers of ember, matches being struck onto the brick. They scraped and scraped until a flame burst into the dark.

The repetition of the gun thumping into the back of your throat had your mind hazy. Lulling you achingly slow, your shoulders drooped, and you let out a faint whine. But it was enough.

Tim took a drag of the freshly lit cigarette, peering at you. “Well, I’ll be damned, she likes it.” He sniggered, and Brian clicked his tongue. “Course she does. Bet she’s been dreamin’ ‘bout this for years.” Mean as he removed the metal from your mouth, he threw the weapon onto the couch haphazardly. “Jesus, you’re a fucking whore.” His lip curled up into a sneer like he was disappointed.

“On your feet.” He said, eyes cold- you urged your legs to move. Yet your reaction came too late, and his arm shot out, fingers clamping around your windpipe.

He hauled you upwards, your limbs flailing to steady yourself. “When I speak, you listen, and you listen good. Understand?” You clawed at his wrist weakly, whimpering like a hit animal. Your lungs were burning.

He scoffed at your pitiful strength and released you after a beat, spinning you to face the sofa. Your legs buckled when he shoved you forward, wrestling your body to arch. Your knees were spread on the cushion, with your hands finding purchase on the couch top. Quiet rustling, then a calloused palm at your waist-

Brian speared you onto his cock to the hilt, and you wailed.

He didn’t ease you into it; there was no buildup or warning. With his length bullying in and out of your over-sensitive cunt, he fucked you fast and rough. “I can’t- too much, please- please.” He grunted at that, spitting onto your pussy from the back. “Dogs don’t talk.” His hips snapped against you even harder, cruel—

You didn’t mean to.

It wasn’t your fault. Your thighs were barely able to hold your weight, but in the heat of it, your foot jerked. Kicking him with enough power to make the man stagger a tad. He paused instantly, and your heart sank at his next words. “Bad girl.”

You were yanked to his chest, his bicep locking around your neck. He started pounding into your walls, bruising your poor insides as punishment. “Mm- haah- p-please. Didn’t mean it- didn’t-” Your pleas fell on deaf ears, and slick poured down your trembling legs. From the angle he had you in, his tip kept knocking into a spot that had your pupils rolling up.

It felt like you were being ripped in half, bred like a toy with no other purpose. The lack of air was making your vision dot with black, and Toby grinned, watching while he pumped himself. His hand extended, pressing down on the bulge that protruded every time Hoodie would thrust. “You’re s-suh-so pretty like this.” You think your skull was going to explode.

Drool was leaking from the corners of your mouth, jaw slack. Moans punching up your throat by force, “Ah- ah- oh-” You scratched at his bicep, squirming pathetically. He huffed and loosened his hold. Barring an arm around your chest instead, condensing your breasts, his fingers digging into your skin. His breath was feverish against your ear.

“At least pretend you hate me.” He panted, taunting you while driving deeper into your pussy. “Lettin’ us spread your legs, didn’t even have to ask.” The fabric of his sweater was tacky on your back, coarse as he chuckled. “Shit, yer’ makin’ a fucking mess on me- you gonna’ cum?” Your moans scratched your throat raw, and you bucked into him.

Tim clenched his jaw in thought, then he laughed, snatching the pistol. “Don’t worry, hun. We’ll take care of you real nice.” The barrel was pressed to your clit, making you jerk. “No- ngh.” The contrast in temperatures was euphoric, cool metal against your sweltering cunt.

You were toeing the ledge, on the brink, when your shoulders bowed— before Brian stilled behind you.

You squirmed on him, twitching, and he reclined. Stopping you from falling with a fistful of your hair, as he gave your ass a stinging spank. “If you wanna’ cum, you’re gonna’ work for it-”

Rasping, he set his palm on the curve of your spine, pushing you to arch. “Grind.” His voice had dropped an octave, and the baritone had you dripping.

It was mortifying, but you couldn’t help the sway of your hips. With each rut, the steel slid between your folds, pussy split open on his cock. Embarrassment flooded you, your face aflame while your whines heightened in pitch.

Back and forth, back and forth, your orgasm simmering while you shook. Too much and too little all at once.“Please- please, wanna’ cum- please.” You begged, the woven fabric of the sofa sullied beneath you.

Brian gritted his teeth. You were throbbing around him, cunt pulsing. He could fucking hear how wet you are, the sticky squelching echoing through the room every time your ass pressed onto him. He dug his grasp firmer into your waist, the dull pain fuelling your pleasure. Wires had crossed in your head, and you moaned, wanton and needy.

He was staving off his own peak, biting down on his lip to stifle his groan. His patience had withered to nothing, and he sharply hauled your hips back. Cockhead forced against your cervix, stuffing you to the brink. Not fucking you, with the only stimulation being from the stretch and the tainted metal of the weapon. You were too full, so full it hurt— the ecstasy crashed into you mercilessly. “Brian.”

Your head spun, and your view phased in and out, white at the edges. He acted before he could think it through. Perhaps it was your blatant desperation, the way you breathed his name like a prayer. Either way, you felt a stern hand on your jaw.

Jerking your face to the side, his lips molding over yours. His tongue invaded your mouth, sweeping your teeth, consuming you entirely.

He was corrupting your mind, his touch both desecrating and reverent. You whined, and he drank in the sound. Spurting inside you, then releasing you with a messy smack. “Christ.” He exhaled, his length slipping out of your pussy. Brian’s spend leaked from your sopping hole, and his thumb pried you wide when he hummed in approval.

Tim gave your clit a final tap. Tugging the pistol out of the way just in time, your body crumbling onto the chair, beyond exhausted. The surface stuck to your sweat-slicked skin, and you were uncomfortably sticky from head to toe. Yet, just as your lids began to close, a flash went off behind you. It made the last of your adrenaline surge to the front. “W-wait-” Arms like lead, you peeked over your shoulder.

His unfeeling smirk told you everything, camera in hand, and the scent of smoke wafted into the air before Tim spoke. “We ain’t the type to keep souvenirs. You should be honoured.”

Toby snickered at the man's praise. “Told you, y-you were s-special.” He peeled you off the sofa, propping you against his chest, with your thighs straddling his own.

“It’s my turn, pretty. You can’t p-pass out yet, okay?” You didn’t have the energy to reply if you wanted to, limbs useless by now. All you could do was moan quietly as he sank you down onto his cock. “Fuck, you’re s-so warm.” He groaned into your ear, anchoring his palms under your ass to bounce you. Your arms hung limp by your sides, Toby fucking up into your puffy cunt.

Your clit kept bumping into his base, and the sparse hair of his happy trail ground against your sensitive skin. Even through Toby’s sweater, you could feel the ridges of roped muscle. Strength nurtured by gruelling labour and nothing else.

The perspiration had dampened his face, his bandages lifting at the corners. Another thrust, another jerk of his head- and the patch peeled off.

A gnarled, ragged scar tugged at the skin on his cheek, revealing his gums. It looked like it had healed and reopened over and over again, his teeth exposed at the deepest part of the gouge. You think there’s something wrong with you. A festering infection that you’d ignored, only revealing itself now.

You pulled yourself from his shoulder and leaned in as he eased his rhythm, confused. “What-?” Then your tongue ran over his unconcealed teeth. You were licking his fucking scar. He screeched a laugh, yanking you back by the hair.

“You’re f-fucking sick.” Toby smashed your lips together no more than a second after, pelvis slapping against your mound.

Tim chuckled in disbelief, nodding at Brian. “Look at that- we should’ve grabbed her sooner.” He extended the gun loosely, and the other man agreed with a grunt, snagging the grip from his hand. “I’m surprised she made it this far with a head that empty.” He stepped to you, trailing the barrel up your spine while you rode Toby’s cock.

It felt too good- you couldn’t stop. The veins on his girth dragged in and out of your tunnel, catching on the ridges and making you drool. Fucked dumb on it and high off the friction. Brian huffed, sneering.

“Humpin’ him like an addict. I bet you can’t even fuckin’ hear me.” He said, using the top of the pistol to lug your head back, the metal pressed against your throat. “Open.” An order that you obeyed swiftly, tongue stuck out. He spat onto your palette, clamping a palm over your mouth, and watching you swallow without a fight. He scoffed.

Swapping the weapon with his hand, your windpipe was snug in his grip before he raised the gun to your temple. “You got five minutes to finish him off, or I’m pullin’ the trigger.” The gun was rammed so hard against your skull that it burned, aching from the shooting pain. You slammed your hips down fervently and hiccuped.

Your nervous system was at war with itself, your mind sending out alerts. Blaring sirens, and going comatose from fear, while your body struggled to keep up with the agonizing pleasure. You sobbed, panting as Toby threw his head back, eyes scrunched shut. “Shit- fuck- fuckfuck—” He arched, writhing under you, and Tim whistled to your side, jeering. “I’m startin’ to like you, baby. You ain’t wanna’ break my heart, do ya’?”

Your cunt felt raw, the nonstop usage having hot tears stream down your cheeks. They’d been so rough, and your inner thighs hurt, bruises already forming. Your orgasm seized you painfully, your arousal squirting onto Toby’s stomach as he keened, brows knotted up. He tensed completely, then sagged into the cushions, chest heaving.

The pistol slid off your neck when you collapsed into him.

Spittle mixed with snot and salt had your face a mess, and you snivelled, nearly hyperventilating. You were sore all over, head heavier than cement, your muscles screaming from overexertion. You were so tired.

Your ears were stuffed with cotton, but you could still make out Tim’s voice, the faint shuffling as he moved closer. His hand brushed the hair out of your eyes, and you sniffled, hiccuping loudly.

Yet even through your bleary vision, his worry was laid bare.

“Come back to me, sugar- c’mon.”

Toby adjusted you carefully while Brian rushed to grab water and hot towels. “You’re okay. We g-got you.” He muttered, smoothing his palm down your back. Tim pressed a kiss to your damp forehead. “It’s done, you did so well. So, so good, you hear me?”

Softly, he cradled your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth. “You’re alright, just breathe for me, hun.” Your inhales finally began to slow, and Brian rounded the couch.

Walking to the front of the chair, he stood with one knee settled between you and Tim to steady his weight. “Heya,’ dolly.” He whispered, cautious not to shock your system further. The bottle was brought to your lips, and you gulped down the water. The liquid cooled you swiftly, making you nuzzle into Toby’s arms once you were satisfied.

Brian’s hands rested on your arms when he pitched forward, littering your features in feather-light pecks.

He withdrew after a minute and towed the coffee table towards himself. Taking a seat, then supplying Toby with the clean rags as Tim laced his fingers with yours. Your tremors still hadn’t ceased, and he frowned.

“Can you tell me where you are?” Tim mumbled, holding your knuckles to his chest. The warmth of his hand, along with Toby's body, had you fighting sleep, slurring. “At home…” He hummed at that, sighing in relief.

They’d been wary when you’d initially brought it up, but you said you were sure. It’s not like you hadn’t done roleplay in the past- it’s just that this was going the extra mile. You wished to go all in, setting up a whole scenario for it. You had debated storylines the night prior and decided on the hitchhiker trope.

You would be stranded, alone and vulnerable- picked up by three strangers in a truck. They would take you back to an “unfamiliar cabin” to have their way with you.

Cliche’, yet you’d been excited. And one very, very long conversation about safewords later, you took a bus to a decently far gas station. Walking back for authenticity, according to you. You didn’t talk to them for the full twenty-four hours leading up to it and everything.

Still, the concern remained present. The last thing they wanted was to actually scare you, and this would be a heavy role to partake in. The fear of pushing you too far, being too rough or hurting you had been circling their minds the entire night. Always waiting an extra second after an act, just in case you needed a break or to stop the scene entirely.

Tim kissed your bare shoulder. “You know who we are?” Some would say it was dumb, but he didn’t care. Facts would ground you- reminders would ensure your comedown was stable. He needed you to know you were safe.

You swallowed, blinking at him lazily. “My boys.” He smiled, nodding, pupils dilated while he gave your palm a squeeze. “Mhm.” Toby finished wiping the grime from your back, pecking your crown. “How are you feeling, angel?” He cast the towel aside and snatched a fresh one from a bowl filled with warm water. “Sleepy.” Brian chuckled at your dazed expression, hushed.

“S’been a long night, hm?” He rose, redoing his buckle halfway. “Let’s get you cleaned up, darlin’. Yer’ gonna’ catch a cold like this.” Tim followed suit, and Toby shuffled to stand, hoisting you upwards. With your legs wrapped around his waist, the four of you made your way upstairs.

The bath was heavenly for your sore joints, and you breathed out, content. Tim and Toby had taken the standing shower, with you and Brian cuddled in the tub after a quick rinse.

You scooped the sudds in your hands, reclining into his chest. “You are a very convincing actor, Bri Bri.” He laughed, one arm resting at your hip, the other thrown over the porcelain ledge.

“Mm- nearly broke character when you flinched. I felt like a fuckin’ bastard.”

“Yeah, but that’s the point! You were all ‘grrr, obey me or else- you whore.’ It was crazy.”

He cringed at the memory. “Lord, that sounds awful out loud. You sure you liked it?” The water sloshed a bit, your feet wiggling, and you giggled. Peering at him. “Yes. And I thought you were very sexy. What if you wore your masks next time?” He shot you a look, squinting at you. “Dolly, I think you have a thing, and we should talk about it.” You jutted out your bottom lip. “But you could chase me through the woods—”

“Absolutely not.”

Tim had shoved his head out from the shower door, the glass fogged with steam. “The forest is dangerous. You could trip- what if you hurt yourself, huh? And there are animals and bugs, and I’m not defiling you on the dirt while you cry. It ain’t right.”

His hair was foamed with soap, and Toby swiped at the condensation, creating a little window to look through. “It’s t-too risky, muffin. You could fall or s-something.” You huffed, defensive. “I’m not even that clumsy.”

“It ain’t about bein’ clumsy, it’s principle.”

“Tim.”

“Uh uh. It’s in the house where it’s safe, or it’s not happenin’. Yer’ lucky we even agreed to that lil’ gun thing.”

You groaned, sagging against Brian as you pouted. “It was empty!” He snickered from behind you, and Tim narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t start with me, girl.” He closed the door, the attitude radiating off him when Toby snorted.

“I know you wanna’, but it’s dangerous out there- and what if EJ s-sees? He’s super strict about that s-stuff. He’d kill all of us before we could explain.” His explanation had you raising a brow, and you leaned your cheek onto Brian’s bicep.

“Really?”

“Yeah- Jack’s moral compass is s-strong. Like. Strong.”

“I thought he just ate people?”

“Angel, if I told him I called you a whore with no context, he’d punch m-me into a wall—”

— ^ ^ —

Yes I am reusing my art for this #whogaf

[vxncevis]

Prompt: “Lift your shirt up, I wanna see your tits.”

Pairing: Tobias “Ticci Toby” Rogers” x Female!Reader. Brian and Tim

Warning: SMUT, Toby (he’s his own warning for this), Kinda Sub!toby if you squint, handjob, Fingering.

I’ll do more later. (EJ, LJ, Jeff, HABIT/Evan)

“Sh-shit!” Toby breathes, his mouth hard dangling from his neck. His jeans were covered in mud, and blood and his hatched hanging from his belt.

Tonight’s mission was rough, something almost went wrong, key word, almost.

Masky had taken a bullet for him in the leg, Toby helped Hoodie bring him to their truck they came in. Blood covered their hands, Hoodie called EJ for surgical assistance.

EJ met them at an abandoned road. Stepping out of the woods, silently.

“You scared the shit o-out of me, man!” Toby breathes out, watching as EJ eyed him, even though eyeless, Toby still felt the stare. EJ had a medical bag of his stuff, making his way to the backseat where Masky was. Mumbling something about, hitting an artery.

“Get home Toby.” Hoodie basically snarls, glaring at Toby. His hands were holding pressure on Tim’s wound. The twitchy brunette scoffed, “I wan-wanna help!” He shouted as he tried pushing into the backseat of the truck, but Brian shouted, “Go, Home!” Everyone froze, EJ had his hand placed on Toby’s shoulder. “You’ve done enough, Toby.” Brian finished, shaking his head as he cussed to himself.

Toby clenched his jaw, “B-be fuckin’ lucky we-we’re close di-dipshits.” He shakes his head, turning on his heal and making his way through the woods.

“Stupid f-fucking-“ he growls, swinging his hatchet against a tree. His mind was raging at him, cussing at himself.

And soon he made it to your house, the home you two share.

Making his way inside, his muddy boots creating footprints on the front porch. He opens the front door.

Unlocked. As usual.

The sound of the shower being him from his thoughts. His dark eyes looking towards your bedroom door that was cracked open.

Inside the bedroom, he opened the bathroom door. Hot steam sifting through the air, mirrors were fogged.

He looked through the glass door of the shower, seeing the outline of your frame. Toby slowly undressed, every layer of clothing dropping mud onto the tile flooring along with his goggles and mouth guard.

You didn’t hear him come in, nor did you hear him take his clothes off. Being a proxy came with the plus of being able to be silent as a mouse.

His shoulders jumping with every tic. Neck popping every now and then, but the sounds were muted by the running water of the shower.

Once Toby slid the final layer of clothing off onto the floor, mud streaks down his arms that had sealed through the sleeves of his jacket, dried blood cracking around his wrists and hands where he’d wiped at Masky earlier.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, mouth agape. His tongue running over bitten lips and jaw. Breathing uneven from both adrenaline and sudden arousal.

The steam wrapped around him like it knew him, welcoming him, like it knew he needed it—like he needed you.

He pushed the glass sliding door open with two fingers. You shivered at the sudden draft against your back, opening your eyes and turning. Arms instinctively covering your body.

“Toby?” You breathed, voice soft under the spray. Looking over him, he looked exhausted. Mud smudged over his skin. New bruises already flowering across his body from tonight. You lead him underneath the spray of water, the hot water hit his shoulders, streaking down the grime, the blood, the tension from his knotted muscles.

He didn’t answer at first, just standing there as his eyes drifted over your body.

His fingers twitched, jerking. His eyes drifting up finally, making eye contact with you, and something in him loosened.

Voice cracking when he speaks, “They… they told me t’go h-home,” he muttered, irritation and hurt swirling together. “Li-like I’m— like I’m a liab-… lia— like I’m jus’ someone they gotta babys-sit.” His nerves causing his stutters to worsen.

His hands reach for you, seeing that you have yet to drop your arms from around yourself.

Once yours hands drop, they come up to cup his face, stepping closer to him.

His breaths hitched, leaning into your touch. His eyes fluttering closed as his hands come down and rest on your hips. His grip rough, but not enough to hurt.

Your thumbs trace the lines of his jaw.

“You came home. That’s what matters.” You breathe out, sliding your hands up into his hair. Not caring about the grime that starts washing out of his hair.

But then his arms were around your waist.

Tight.

Desperate as he dragged you forward until your chest pressed against his mud-streaked skin. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot, shaky, uneven.

“I.. I don’t like it wh-when you see me like this. Fuck.” His voice was muffled in your neck as his noses pressed into your the wet skin.

“I— I’m a mess.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re always a mess. Get over here.”

That made a tiny sound escape him—a laugh, breathy and strained.

Toby pulled back enough just to look at you, his hair plastered to his forehead. The length long enough to almost cover his eyes. But his hair was curly, so it didn’t matter.

His eyes were dark, glassy. But held something underneath, hunger.

“You’re the only… the only place I can come back to,” he said quietly, as if the words were slipping out before he could stop them. Your hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers threading gently through his wet curls.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered then leaning into to give him a gentle kiss, but it didn’t last long before he had you pinned against the cool wall of the shower.

You gasp, back arching off of the surface, basically pushing your boobs up into his face. Toby breaks the kiss, running his hands over your skin, both of them land on the underside of the fat. Holding them in his hands.

You moan, hands tightening in his hair, tugging on the shorts curly strands at his neck. His breath stuttered, the feeling didn’t hurt, of course it didn’t, but the pressure was thrilling.

Toby finally let his forehead drop against yours, letting out what almost sounded like a whine, biting his lip as his thumbs rolling over the peaks.

You look up at him, both your eyes glossed over with lust. You drag your hand gently down his torso to which he let you. Your fingers sliding over the ripples of muscle, his stomach stuttering, tensing as your hand slides lower and lower.

But his eyes were focused on your tits, squeezing and kneeling at the soft flesh. You breath out heavily as you wrap your hands around his cock.

Flesh against flesh.

He groans out at the feeling of your hand sliding up and down his cock, hips stuttering in shallow movements as he thrusts into your hand.

“Fu–fuuck.” He moans, leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue but still somehow romantic. “F-feels so good, please do-don’t stop.” He whines, one of his hands slide down rubbing at your clit. Soon, dipping into your wet hole and fingering you.

“Oh, Toby.” You moan, rolling your hips into his hand, riding his digits. You move your hand in sync with his fingers, wanting to get him to that sweet release he deserves.

“C’mon my sw-sweet angel. Cum. Please- oh- oh fuck!” He gasps, cock twitching in your hand, white pearls dripping from his head. His noises going straight your cunt, gushing around his fingers at the same time he cums into your hand.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, breathing heavily before picking you up, shutting the water off and carrying you to bed with a growl, slapping your ass in the process.

A/n:… sighhhhh it was rushed😭

[theamberparadise]

THE DOG AND THE BITCH | EYELESS JACK x WITCH! READER | SMUT

SYNOPSIS; He broke your spell jars. You shredded his log records. You and Jack were at war for as long as you were recruited in the mansion. You know no real reason why he targets you, but the mansion sure is sick of it. They’re gonna have to force you guys to get along– or else they risk forever dealing with war instigated by you and the humanoid medic.

forced proximity trope!

TW; foul language, knife, belt as form of bondage, biting, blood, rough sex, hate sex, lots of creampies, NO pregnancies, claws, implied squirting, lots and lots of cum, angry EJ, nasty EJ, mischievous reader, mischievous EJ, porn with little plot, short-lived angst somewhere in there

WORD COUNT; 6, 245 words

It had been… five months.

Not exactly. Five months, two weeks, and three days.

That’s how long you’ve been here, yet the mansion still has its own undiscovered oddities that you are most satisfyingly fond of.

But that doesn’t mean they’re fond of you.

You’ve figured that out the moment you found your spell jars spilled before the intentions were even completed.

The marks were obvious, of course. You weren’t stupid. In fact you were very intelligent, and you are convinced that Eyeless Jack Nyras is threatened by it.

Not exactly threatened, you knew him well enough. He isn’t that easy to tick off. Although that doesn’t exactly apply to you, you’ve learned.

But you were sure enough he didn’t like being overshadowed. And while he knows nobody does what he does— your ideation of what’s real and what’s not— that’s what bothers him.

You practice witchcraft. Although you don’t worship any deities (your big tall black-faced boss refuses to let you do so), your spells and abilities are proven to be very effective as it’s quite literally your very own weapon against your opponents.

Oh, you could do wonders. Paralyze them. Make them blind. Possess them like a puppet. 

You weren’t born with it. Instead, you took the time to do, to learn the abilities you have now. 

You worked hard. And it paid off by a fuck-ton.

Sure, people might believe you, might not even hear a word you say. But the second your incantations go into action– they believe, alright.

But some people— refuse to budge.

Jack. Jack. Jack.

His name is ringing in your head the whole time you’re wearily picking glass shards up with your bare, yet perfectly manicured, fingers. 

Jack. Jack.

The rage starts to boil in little by little. It especially reached a high point when you took in the fact that your time, your money, your ingredients, your energy– are all gone. 

Jack.

After you wipe the last of your carefully curated oils and herbs, you calmly made your way down to where you would always see him at 3 p.m. (Yes, you remember. It’s his down time.): the kitchen.

Your platform heels thumped against the wood floors before it finally clicked on the slightly sticky tiles of the kitchen.

Clad in his gray turtleneck and bootcut denim jeans (and black combat boots to match), was Jack Nyras. 

There he is.

He’s sipping his usual espresso coffee and keeps his eyes (sockets) on the rim of his mug, but you know he knows you’re there.

“I hope you were at least satisfied.” you grit, still keeping your calm posture but hiding the bitterness in the cross of your arms.

Jack sets the mug down. He stares at it for a while, then—

“I was. Thank you for wishing such pleasantries over me.”

Your eyebrows furrow. He cannot be serious.

“Tell me, what ever did you gain by doing that?” you took two steps forward. “Was it so difficult to leave my room be?”

He flashes a toothy smirk. Asshole. “It stunk up the whole mansion. It reached my lab. That was the only sensible solution.”

“The disadvantages of your dog-nose is in, no way, my liability.” you hiss. “And if you want sensible, do something sensible for all of us and leave forever.”

His smirk drops. “You’ll all die if it weren’t for me.” His head was turned to you, now. “I have stitched up reckless cuts, wrapped up more broken bones, healed your bodies even when they were in critical condition. You should be kissing my boots and thanking me for letting you do so.” Jack was suddenly right in your face. You could smell the fabric conditioner off of him.

His warmth. You could feel it.

“I’ll thank you the day I’m on my deathbed, you slobbering son of a bitch.” you sneer at him before turning on your heels and stomping out of the kitchen.

Toby was about to make some cocoa, but steered clear when he saw you zooming out the kitchen door. Curious, he went in to see Jack.

“Wuh– what the hell was tuh-that all about?”

Jack empties his mug. “She’s acting nonsensical to logic. I just gave her a lesson on how it is.”

“Dude… yuh–you’re gonna die if you d-do that.”

Jack starts to wash the mug: “I’d like to see her try.”

Pacing, pacing, pacing. You’ve been pacing for fifteen minutes. 

Dagger in hand, tapping the blade lightly on your palm repeatedly. 

You’ve been thinking on how to take revenge on his prissy ass. You couldn’t let him slide. Jack broke your jars, jeopardized your work, and now he wants you to kiss his boot. 

You should be kissing my boots. You should be kissing my boots. You should be kissing my boots. 

“I wouldn’t even kiss his stupid dog-face if my life depended on it,” you mutter under your breath, the frustration from his STUPID comment still lingered in the darkest corners of your brain. Kiss his boots? Kiss his boots? 

Kissing… Kissing… kissing…

Stop it.

“I’ll make him kiss my ass after I’m watching him die!” In a fit of rage, you threw your dagger toward the dart-board that was already there even before you moved in. Sighing, you drew closer to retrieve it.

Bulls-eye. You expected nothing less of yourself.

Smiling briefly, you yanked your dagger out to put it back inside its case. Scarlet, you named it. You’ve had her for longer than you know. You’ve taken such good care of Scarlet, that even God knows how many years later, she could still easily cut through paper in one, swift slice.

Wait.

Papers.

Papers, papers.

His papers.

Jack’s papers.

You were in his lab via breaking and entering before you knew it. You were in front of his desk, almost shaking with adrenaline with Scarlet still in your hand, handle a little moist with slight sweat.

On your right, was Jack’s daily log records. (You didn’t want to do the more-important records that included each of the residents’ biography– you’d figured the whole mansion would be very disadvantaged instead of just Jack. He’s your target. Not them.).

You read some of it: Injuries sustained by your other co-workers, medicine head shipped in and shipped out to the other mansions belonging to your boss’s brothers that he very carefully and meticulously jotted down, and all medicines, procedures, and treatments he has given to your dear co-workers arranged by date, time, and in, impressively, alphabetical order.

All the records date all the way back to three months.

And all the records… are all shredded.

Thanks to you, the rough, inked paper is as meticulously ripped apart as how it was meticulously created. 

You took the time to admire your handiwork when another idea popped into your head.

To add insult to injury, you took the perfectly straight, thin strips of shredded paper—

and mixed them all together.

You escaped his lab as quietly as you came.

The consequences came faster than you would’ve expected. 

It was about 9 p.m. now. You’d already had your dinner, classic instant noodles and a soda with fried egg. (Yeah, yeah, health and all— but you were tired.)

You were in the middle of your divination session, your tarot cards flipping themselves all on their own while you were sitting in the middle of your room, on the floor.

The last card was just about to reveal itself, when—

Knock knock knock.

Three loud knocks. But you wanted to finish your reading, so you—

Knock Knock Knock…

Anyway–

KnockKnockKnock—

“Jesus Christ–”

Swinging the door open, you were greeted by Tim, clad in his signature red plaid button-up shirt. 

You open your mouth, but he interrupts. 

“Downstairs. We need to have a meeting.”

His cold, monotone voice already told you what you need to know. You grinned a little, but stopped when he interrupted your thoughts by walking away. You follow him.

It was only about five steps until you were downstairs when you could already hear the arguing.

“I’m just sayin’ that maybe if you haven’t sabotaged her work— maybe you would’ve been safe.”

“What she does isn’t work. I know what real work is, Brian. I’ve plucked more bullets out of your flesh than she has done any of her ridiculous ‘miracles’ that actually worked.” Jack’s voice was eerily calm, but still had the tinge of frustration. Not much, but it’s there.

You could hear BEN butt in, “Well, she did save Jeff from that lunatic last pickup. All she did was say one word and boom! Lunatic dead!”

Jack hisses. “What he had was a stroke.”

“Yeah,” Kate countered, too. “A stroke she caused.”

He looks at her in disbelief. “You–”

“Everybody shut the fuck up.”

Tim’s voice boomed through the room. All heads turned to him. You could see Jack’s face souring at the sight of you, but nonetheless, he stayed composed.

Then, Tim points to the staircase you both just descended. “Get out. All of you except Jack and Brian.”

A collection of sighs and groans emanated from the small crowd, but all of them obliged and did what Tim said. They always do. 

Tim turns to you, then cocks his head toward the couch. Sighing, you plot yourself down a little farther than Brian.

Silence. Then,

“We’ve been at this for way too fuckin’ long.” Tim groans when he lowers himself on the couch, too. You could smell Brian lighting a cig.

Brian takes his first puff. “The whole house is gettin’ sick of it, sug’. Why ain’t you just quit it, now?”

Jack cringes at the nickname.

You click your tongue. “Because he’s nothing but a good-for-nothing dog.”

Jack whips toward you, shoving his pointer finger in your face. “I am not a fucking dog,” he sneers. “You watch your dirty mouth.”

You smirk. “Oh? You think my mouth’s dirty? Come clean it up, then,” you’re grinning now. “Dog.”

He sucks his teeth. Then… licks his lips?

“See what the hell we’re talkin’ about?” Tim takes the cig from Brian, who was offering it to him, then puffing. “We gotta find some compromise,”

Jack scoffs. “The only way you are getting a compromise is to banish this– this— her out of this house forever—”

“We were thinkin’ something more that doesn’t require banishing,” Brian clears his throat.

“And somethin’ that won’t get any blood on the floor.” Tim follows.

“Yeah? I suggest putting him in a cage, then.” You snicker, but none of them laugh with you. 

“We were thinking…” Brian starts.

Tim continues. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make you two spend a night together. A little bonding time, if you will.”

You can feel Jack’s repulse blend in with yours.

“Hell no,” you start up from the couch, but Tim pulls you back.

“No. We’re tired of dealing with you two.”

Brian speaks again, “We can’t risk any more of our vital residents being in the infirmary because you two decided to dance a little too hard.”

Jack chuckles darkly. “This won’t fix anything.”

“Not if we were supervisin’.” Tim adds. Supervising? How the hell are they gonna do that?

“We’ll be standing by the door all night.” Brian takes another drag.

Rolling your eyes, “How are we gonna be sure you’re gonna be awake the whole time?” 

Tim answers. “We just took a night recon job yesterday. Me and Brian slept all day. We’re awake all night, now. Wouldn’t hurt to do so, either. It’s our off-day tomorrow.”

Fuck.

Fuuuck.

“So we won’t fight anymore. Fine! Deal done.” you start.

“No. Stop tryna fight this. You brought this upon yourselves and you’re gonna deal with it.”

“I–” Jack tries to speak, but Brian stands up and suddenly grips Jack’s arms and drags him to the spare bedroom.

You were next. Tim practically pulls and pushes you until you and Jack were basically stumbling backwards and on your asses on the floor. 

Before you two know it, the door slams shut, and a door stopper is wedged into place.

You look at each other, then you get up and start banging on the door. 

“Tim– I swear to fucking god– open the fucking door!” 

Then, from behind the wood, “Goodnight, you two.”

“You fucking—”

“It won’t work, you know.”

You turn to Jack. His arms are crossed, his face tired and annoyed. Like he was watching some failed experiment he spent months on.

“Yeah? You got any other plans, then? Mr. Nyras?” Your voice was calm now. But Jack could taste the poison it’s laced with from where he was standing.

“They aren’t letting up anytime soon.”

“So? You’re saying we should give into their torture? Have a fucking backbone for once, you idiot–”

He grips your jaw, bringing it closer to him. “Talk to me nice. We’re gonna be spending all night here, after all.” He pauses. “Not to mention, in the same bed, too.”

You break free from his loosened grip and look behind his shoulder.

Your worst fears have come true.

One bed– one bed was situated in the back wall. The headboard was facing the left side, and one big window’s ledge was kissing the side of the bed, giving you a view of the big, bright, moonlight outside.

King-size. How fancy.

“Not unless I sleep on the floor,” refusing to give up your space, you found a thin, foam mat and rolled it out on the floor beside the bed. You were about to lay down until—

“Sleep with me.”

You whip your head toward him.

“What the fuck–”

“You heard me.”

“You pervert. You really are a dog.”

Jack sighs, as if being disappointed. “I meant, sleep beside me. If anyone here is a pervert, it’s you.”

You stood up now. “What the fuck did you just say about me?”

He grins. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“Yeah. With disgust, that’s what.”

“Except that, disgust is not the only thing you’ve felt, no?”

“What the hell are you going on about–”

“I’ve felt things, too.”

Silence. Silence. Sile–

“Do you want to know about them?” Jack tilts his head, hands behind his back.

Like the fucker didn’t know what he was doing.

When there was only silence from you, he continued.

“I’ve felt your heartbeat go faster when I go up-close. I’ve felt your temperature rise when I hold your jaw. I’ve felt…”

He comes closer, hooking his finger into the belt-loop of your miniskirt. He pulls you. 

“I’ve felt your pussy tighten when I whisper threats in your ear.” 

Your chest collides with his when he tugs harder. Your breath hitches. 

You feel his fingers trailing up from your hips to your waist to your—

Jack gropes your tits through your top, humming when his thumbs feel your tightening nipple.

You were in deep shit now. You don’t know what’s worse: him touching you like this, like he was your next goddamn meal—

Or that you weren’t stopping him.

“You say you hate me, and yet your cunt’s leaking at me doing this to you.”

He notices you avoiding his gaze, head turned sideways.

“Look at me.” 

Silence.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Hesitantly, you turn your head towards him. You’re flushed.

“Tell me you want this.”

Silence again.

“Tell me.”

With a grin, “I want this, Jack.” 

He growls.

“I want this. I want your hands all over me. Your teeth into my skin. Your claws.”

You lean into his ears.

“I want your cock.”

With no warning, he pushes you backwards, leaving you flushed and breathless on your back. 

He stares at you for a bit. He grins. 

Pointing a finger toward the headboard, “Hands and knees. Hold on to that headboard.”

“You can’t tell me shit to do—”

“Now. You’ve been a fucking brat to me all week.”

Rolling your eyes but slyly smiling, you crawl all the way from the edge to the headboard, arching your back so you could give him a mean view of your ass. (Yes, he stared.)

He spent no time yanking your skirt down as soon as you held onto the headboard.

Your black thong was now in his view, one inch away from exposing your leaking cunt, which was seeping through the thin fabric. 

Jack purred. But you weren’t patient.

“Are you just gonna stare, or—”

His tongues lick your cunt through the thong, hot and wet and sticky and so fucking good. You groan when he started sucking at your clit through the fabric, his lips squelching and making the filthiest of sounds reverberating in the room. YoYou should be kissing my boots. ur pussy is leaking all over– so much that your juice mixed with his spit was spilling from the corner of his mouth and on the bed.

He was licking, licking, licking. Making out with your pussy through the stubborn little piece of cloth you’d wish he’d taken off, too.

“Jack–Jack. Fuck. I’m gonna cum, baby.”

 You can feel your world about to fall apart, hips rocking up and down on his face.

Faster. Faster. Faster—

You jolt when he pulls away, the sudden loss of contact greeting you at your highest point.

“What… what? –”

“You’re just as sweet as I’d imagined you to be.”

Sweet? Imagined? 

He’s… he’s thought about you like this before?

“Please..”

“Mm. That’s it. Talk to me nicely, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Is he really gonna make you play this game?

“Please, Jack.” You arch your back a little more, swaying your lips left and right while your pussy was up mid-air: all for him to see.

“Please what, dove?”

You whine a little, “Please make me cum, Jack.”

You could do nothing but grin when you see his sweater into a small pile on the floor. And you could do nothing but grin even wider when you hear his belt clinking unbuckled, then thrown on the far edge of the bed.

“I’m gonna– fucking break this cunt,” He’s pumping himself. He starts circling the pad of his fingers on your clit, earning something between a gasp and a whine from you.

When he couldn’t just settle on watching you anymore, he hooks his claws under the string of your thongs, pulling hard and snapping your poor panties in half.

“You asshole, that was expensive–”

He plunges his long, sturdy fingers inside the seeping hole of your cunt before you could even finish. You moan, body trembling at the cost of his touch.

Jack worked you open, sucking in his teeth whenever he stretches you just right, watching your walls press firmly against his soaked fingers.

He plunges his fingers out. Another gasp from you. You watch from behind your shoulder.

You see him take his fingers up to his lips, sticking his tongues out, and watch them slide in between his middle and ring digits before his lips wrap completely around them, reaching just below his middle knuckles, popping right back off with a pop!.

“Sweet… so sweet and ready for me.”

He lines the tip of his cock at your hole, rubbing the tip up and down, his pre-cum coating your folds, mixing your wet and his creamy tip. 

Jack pushes in, and you tremble. His tip alone was enough to have you shaking.

“Jack– ngh,”

“I know, I know honey. Just let me get this in.”

Midway. He’s in midway. You can feel it.

“Fuck! Jaaack–”

“I know, pretty girl, I know.”

More. A little more.

“Just a little more, honey, I know you can take it. Be good for me, yeah? Been so mean to me…”

You practically scream when he bottoms out.

Shuffles could be heard through the door. 

“Not too loud, dove. I want those sounds for me and me alone.” He hooks a claw under the back of your top and—

Riiiiiip!

Your tits bounce out in the cold cold air. Your nipples slightly graze the pillows underneath you.

“No bra, dove?” He chuckles. “So you were waiting for this to happen.”

Of course. Of course he finds a way to irritate you.

“I wasn’t. And don’t call me ‘dove’. It’s fucking corny.”

“I think I’ll do whatever I want.”

“Like hell you will!”

You push yourself back onto his cock with one, big thrust. His frame falters a little, shuddering, before his hand flies to your hair and pulls hard.

“Behave.”

Your heel flings upward and kicks him squarely on the back of his thighs. He grunts in pain before reaching his arm around your throat and hugging tight, abruptly cutting off your airflow. You gasp, strained.

“I fucking hate you.” He growls pressed into your ear. “I fucking hate you–” 

Jack pulls back and thrusts into you, hard.

“I hate your hair,”

Thrust.

“I hate your face,”

Thrust.

“I hate your voice,”

Thrust.

“I hate your scent,”

Thrust.

It was only a matter of time before Jack started to speed up, your moans sounding nothing more than strong gasps and little whines here and there. His other arm was wrapped around the front of your hips, pulling you back so his cock could dig deeper into you. 

You would have been yelling at the top of your lungs if it weren’t for him choking you.

It didn’t take that long for you to feel the coming of your climax. Your thighs had lost the strength to hold yourself up, so you just gave in and let Jack carry the rest of you while you held on for the headboard.

Your orgasm was reaching, now. Eyes rolling back, you shivered against Jack’s body while you gave a strained moan, gasping in between pleasure-filled sobs.

Jack lunges himself into your neck, teeth baring, baring, baring—

biting.

He keeps you like that, and you let him. The pain almost just mixes in with the pleasure, and you couldn’t be in any more bliss.

“Fuck–fuck!” Jack came with a tremor in his veins, hot cum pushing inside the warmth of your walls.

God, you can feel him in your stomach.

Your cum made a creamy ring around his cock, mixing in with his own and messily spreading all the way to his hips.

There was silence.

“Get on your back. I wanna see you.” He commanded. With the little strength you had left, you let go of the headboard and dropped on your back.

The moonlight was the only source of light in the room, albeit a strong one. Jack could see all of you, now. The white light casted a ghost over your body, shining over your tits, your stomach, your face, your legs. Everything.

Jack thought you were beautiful this way.

He looks at the broken skin his razor-sharp teeth had made, almost proud, you think so. Then, he swoops in. 

Jack licks your wounds rather deeply. The sting makes you hiss– then shudder. More blood beads up at the red slits of his mark, and he tastes it, too. With a kiss on his bite on your skin, he sits up once more.

He reaches down to grab something, but you gain visibility over it when he was fully on top of you.

His belt.

Without a word, he takes both of your wrists, brings them together, and fastens them with the thick leather strip and locking the buckle (despite your quiet protests).

He pins your wrists down above your head, trailing his claws from your neck, down to the side of your tit, to your ribs, all the way to your hips.

Goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“So beautiful… yet such a foul mouth…”

You glare at him. “You hated me first.”

Jack smiles. “I was only stating true facts about you and your personality.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you hiss. “Dog.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

He plunges his cock deep inside you again without warning, and your back arches up as if it was reaching the heavens, before he starts moving again.

Rough. Hard. All the pressure.

And you weren’t complaining.

In fact, you started smiling through the pleasure and the slight pain.

Jack looms over you. “You think this is funny?”

“It is,” you gasp through half-sobs. “You want me hngh– banished from the mansion and yet– ugh–you’re fucking me this hard– ack–”

“So? You were the one— fuck– you were the one checking me out–”

“Because you wouldn’t get out of my face!”

He sped up, and you were certain that every breath you took was forced out by him.

You were crying out loud now. Neither of you cared about how loud you were– not anymore.

“Look at me.” Jack commands, and you oblige.

You look deep into the voids of his “eyes”, with tears blurring up your vision, you kept your gaze steady on him.

His forehead was pressed into yours. Sweat mixing, bodies grinding on each other. 

“Do it,” he whispered. “Tell me how much you hate me.”

Fuck, his hips were so heavy.

“I hate the way you walk,” you manage to chuckle a little. “Looks like— hrk—looks like you’ve got a stick up your ass all the time.”

“I don’t,”

“Then why do you do that? —”

“Because having so many people rely on me is a bitch of a workload.”

You continued.

“I hate how you talk like I’m not even there– you’re so— fuck! So passive aggressive al the time and I hate it,” 

You can feel your body falling apart– for real this time.

“I hate– I hate how you make me feel so– mngghh— so stupid when I get one single thing wrong, it makes me feel I’m not doing anything right,”

Closer. Closer.

“I hate— oh fuck!! I hate when you make me feel so hot and high when you genuinely smile— I hate how you always look down at me when you’re talking– I hate– I hate–”

Everything blurs into one color when your body finally reaches its point to no return.

“I hate you Jack!” you cry it out as you came, wincing at his cum seeping into your pussy once again. 

He keeps you in place— but his composure still very much falters, shuddering and slowly falling down against yours.

Everything seemed to mellow out and come into focus the more you two laid there, with him on top of you and you below him. He pulls out slowly, earning a wince from you, before you two gained consciousness once again.

“You’re a bitch.”

You giggle. “You’re a dog.”

He lets off of you and removes the belt, throwing it away in the dark of the room. You both are now laying side to side on the bed, shoulders touching, hair almost blended together.

Silence.

But you break it this time.

“Why do you hate me?”

You turn toward him, but Jack is still staring at the ceiling.

You continue. “Is it because of what I can do? What I am? Is it because I’m new?”

Jack swallows. But he isn’t nervous. Or angry. Or annoyed.

He’s thinking.

Then, “Every monster I knew starts by saying they were trying to help.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You think I’m a monster?”

“Not yet,” Jack sighs. “But every person I knew with your kind of power managed to cross a line, somehow.”

“Jack, I never used my magic against you— not saying I haven’t wreaked well deserved revenge on you here and there, but I’ve never used magic on you. Or anyone else.”

He stays silent again. But then, “The people who–”

Jack pauses. Then starts again. “The people who took me. Forced me into their twisted celebrations. They were people I trusted once.”

He turns his head to you. “People who believed they were doing something important when they were hurting me with the same power you have.”

You speak. “But I’m not the people who did this to you.”

“You’re using the same kind of power.”

“No, they used power to take whatever humanity you had left. I use mine to protect the mansion. Do my job.”

Jack scoffs. “You think that makes a difference?”

You stand your ground. “It makes all the difference.”

Jack turns away, looking at the ceiling once again. He runs a hand through his brown locks, breathing deeply.

“You still have a choice. I don’t.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“You can still stop practicing your craft. You can stop relying on spells. You can stop being the thing that people fear. Me? I don’t have that choice. I don’t. I stay this way forever. I can’t even go out in public without covering myself in so many layers just to look half-normal. You can do that with no problem.”

“Are… are you jealous of me, Jack?”

“Not with who you are, at least. But with how different my life could’ve been.”

You stay quiet.

“Do you know what hurts me too, Jack?”

He doesn’t budge. But you know he’s listening.

“It hurts me that whenever you see me, you see them, too. The people who hurt you. They aren’t me. I’m not them. I don’t understand why you keep treating me how you should’ve treated them.”

Jack doesn’t answer. 

“It’s like— it’s like you’ve already decided who I am without actually taking the time to know me. I’m me. Nobody else.”

He’s the quiet one now.

You prop yourself up on your side.

“Do you think I enjoy this?”

He turns to you. You continue.

“Every single one of my spells cost me. Every curse leaves something behind. Every time I get into someone’s mind, I wonder if I’m becoming someone even I myself couldn’t recognize.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“If you think you’re the only monster you think you are here, then you’re dead wrong. It’s not fair to me, Jack. I am sensible. You just never tried to know me the way you never did. You paint me like I’m one of them. Do you think I had a choice when I was forced into this– this ‘job’? Do you think I wanted to be bound to an eldritch faceless entity for the rest of my life? Do you think I want to live my whole life casting endless spells, incantations, sickness only to kill people? Do you ever once think about the fact that sometimes, I want to help them too?”

Jack’s shoulders drop down like he surrendered to a war he was fighting on for so long.

“I had no choice either, Jack. And I’m no less of a monster than you think you are. And I’m definitely not those bastards who took your whole life away from you before it even started– so stop fucking treating me like one.”

Silence. Silence. Silence.

You lay back down, naked and vulnerable, just like he is.

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart stopped for a bit. Was it really happening? Were the walls both of you put up finally going down?

You sigh.

“You should be, asshole.” A pause. You can hear him quietly wince at your response. “Do you know how many jars from Walmart I had to keep spending on because of you?”

A snicker from him. A giggle from you.

“I’ll get you new ones,” Jack started. “The ones I use in the lab are far sturdier and can hold vast amounts of ingredients.”

“They better have no human remains or some shit. You know well I don’t work with those. It’s gross.”

“Gross,” Jack smirks. “Gross, but you fucked someone who eats them. Who’s really gross?”

“Fuck you.”

You started on top of him, straddling his hips.

Your bare pussy was laying on the underside of his cock. Jack is pulling, prodding, and playing with your tits.

You’re getting wet again, and when you know your slick is coating his dick, you start rocking back and forth, sliding yourself up and down, up and down, up and down…

“Take what you want,” Jack rasps. “Take all you want. I’m yours now.”

You grin. “Aww, look at you, all so romantic.”

“Get to it–”

“Talk to me nice,” you sneer. “I’m in control now. You’re under me. I get to do what I want.”

“Fucking minx– shit!”

You didn’t even let him finish his sentence before you pull up and drop down harshly on his dick.

The warmth of his cock began to fill you again, from your thighs to your hips to your chest. So full. So good.

You didn’t hesitate to go hard on him. Jack destroyed you, now it’s time to destroy him.

The cum and slick that remained on both of you were making filthy sounds yet again. Your cunt was leaking and drooling all over him, and his pre-cum didn’t help either. You were riding him, riding him hard and fast and deep, you look down and—

Every time you lift yourself up, strings and connections of yours and his slick were connecting your skins together. Every time you drop down however, the slick pools between you two, creating a bigger pool of a mess although only slightly after each time on your hips.

You were sweating. He was, too.

The room stunk of you, Jack, and sex.

Sex, sex, sex. That was what’s happening, was it?

Not to you. And probably not to him, too.

No. This isn’t just sex. It’s who you are. Who he is. Who you both could’ve been if it weren't for all the fighting. What you could’ve been doing if it weren’t for all the hate.

“Riding me like a whore,” Jack grits.

“You’re the one who likes it.” You press a sloppy kiss on his neck. “I thought we were done with the pretending.”

He groans, claws digging into your ass and thighs, leaving long, whitening welts that were bound to stay on your skin for a day or two.

You grip on his hair, just enough for his head to press back into the mattress.

Then, a sudden snapping of his thighs up into yours made your eyes shoot wide. You whimper and you whimper loud, right into the abyss of darkness sitting on the ceiling. 

Jack was fucking up into you, now. And you held yourself, letting him take the reins once more.

You two went at it as long as you could, listening to each other and yourselves losing to the pleasure and the high, the loud squelch squelch squelch of your hips slamming into each other, more and more of your spend and your juice and your arousal building up, up, up—

“Jaaaaack!” you mewl, hips snapping in all directions, body twitching and squirming over him but under his touch.

Jack groans loud and long. Hips snapping up into yours, he comes once again, warmth invading your body.

You were full all over. Full with him, with satisfaction.

Silence once more.

Then he lets you fall into him like a collapsing tower.

Immediately, he reaches for the blanket (which was kicked to the side somewhere during your little escapade), and covers you both. 

You and Jack stayed like that. In each other’s arms. Naked, vulnerable, but safe and secure.

“I hate you, Jack.”

“I hate you, too.”

10:32 AM

That was the time your phone greeted you with, before sitting up in a panic.

Your movement stirred him awake.

Him? Him. Jack.

He groans. “What’s with you now?”

“We’re late for breakfast,” you shot up on your feet, snagging your skirt up your thighs as fast as you could. (You would’ve started with your panties first, but someone coldly ripped them apart.)

Jack checks his wristwatch. The same panic blows over him and he starts dressing himself up, too.

You both staggered into the dining room. Everybody’s eyes snapping on you two.

BEN gets the hint first and grins at you.

Kate hums first, then nods. You knew she knew, too.

Jeff, still groggy, does a double take, then flashes a thumbs up at Jack. (Jack sighs.)

Toby, giddiest of them all, and probably received the news first, flashed two thumbs up instead of one.

Tim and Brian? Nowhere to be found. You’d figure they’d gone to get their well-deserved sleep.

Dinner was, albeit, a little awkward. But Jack was right there beside you. Saying nothing, but letting both of your appearances tell the whole story.

Breakfast was done. Dishes are washed. 

Jack had done what he promised and brought you new, unused spell jars which you admitted really were high quality.

Silence again. But not unsettling, not this time. Comfortable, nice, peaceful silence. That’s what it was.

Jars were clinking in both of your hands, stopping when your bedroom door was in front of both of you.

You were about to say a heartfelt thank you, but when you opened your mouth:

“The lab is in its downtime between 3 p.m. through 5 p.m.” he started. 

You smile. “I know. That’s how I shredded your papers.”

Jack sighs when he was reminded of the work he had to redo.

“Come by. I need company.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Need company?”

“Your company. I would like someone to talk to while I redo all the work you so graciously destroyed.”

“Okay.”

…

“Okay.”

…

“Round four in my room after?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“You don’t hate it. You don’t hate me anymore. So what’s the problem?”

“I never said there was.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

vixen || the proxies

‘lust and drugs, no intuition’

sum: after succeeding in a particularly hard mission, The Operator decides to gift the proxies something they need more than anything else: a stress reliever

tw: filth. pure filthy smut. minors dni. FOURSOME. double penetration, drug usage (don’t do drugs), prostitute!reader, mask play, lowkey humiliation if you squint, throat fucking, overstimulation on the low

a/n: this shit was sooo fun to write. happy 3k!!!

“This was a stupid ass idea.”

Hoodie grumbled, slouching dramatically in his seat. Masky’s side eye was cold, his eyes narrowing under his mask. “How often do we get rewards from The Operator? Besides, do you have a better idea on how to spend it?” Masky asked bitterly. Hoodie rolled his eyes, propping his head on his hand. It would be any moment you were scheduled to arrive, the stale scent of the hotel room making Hoodie cringe.

It wasn’t often The Operator gave his proxies some free time, nevertheless offered a reward for good behavior. Recently the three of them, Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, had somehow won The Operator over just enough for him to grant them some stress relief. “Kate had a better idea, she was smart enough to ask for a steak,” Hoodie grumbled unhappily. It wasn’t that he was unhappy with the prospect of fucking whatever girl waltzed through the door. More so that he had to stay around Masky and Toby to experience it. He and Masky were constantly at each other’s throats, while Toby just annoyed him to shreds. His patience was wearing more thin by the day.

“Kate is also borderline feral and rarely speaks comprehensive words,” Masky argued. While he was trying to keep his cool, his own nerves were becoming evident as he glanced at the clock on the wall. Where were you? “How m-many did boss get us?” Toby chimed in. He had been quiet up until now, Hoodies suspicious that it was due to his obvious inexperience with women. “I’d assume one for each of us, right? He’s swimming in money, it can’t be that expensive to get three,” Hoodie answered. He wondered if they’d fight over who got who. A soft knock at the motel door made the three of them go silent, Masky hesitantly stepping over to the door. He peaked through the peak hole, before unlocking it. To the trio’s surprise you were the only one standing there, your hand clutching your small purse.

“Hi um, i’m looking for the uh-” You paused, reading a crumbled up note you had been clinging onto, “the proxies..?”

Your voice was unsure, Masky giving you an affirmative nod and signaling you to come in. Toby had seen prostitutes many of times, on television at least. But you didn’t look like any of them, the stereotypes all wrong. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, there were supposed to be three of you,” Masky told you, gently shutting the door behind you. Your eyes nervously dragged to his face, staring at his eerie mask. “Right, about that, well-” You began, clearly nervous. Hoodie couldn’t help but wonder why you were more jittery than they were. “Your boss put on this note that this is a team exercise as much as a reward, the three of you meant to work together with, well, just me,” You explained.

Oh.

Oh.

No wonder you were shaking in your boots. Three masked men eyeing you like prey, whose mouths were borderline salivating at the thought of fucking you. Masky grabbed the note from you, reading it himself. “You have got to be kidding me,” He grumbled, reading the familiar handwriting. In annoyance he dug in his pockets looking for a box of cigarettes. “All three of us? Is he insane? Look at her, we’ll break her,” He said, gesturing to you. True, you were smaller in stature compared to the three men. Toby stood up first, putting his orange goggles on top of his head. He rounded you like a wild animal, soaking in as much of your body as he could with his eyes. “S-She does look a b-b-bit small,” Toby agreed. Hoodie tilted his head to the side as he studied you. He was always interested in watching how people reacted to one another.

To his surprise despite how intimidating he knew the three of them were, he noticed the light tint of pink that had spread across your cheeks. “Actually, your boss offered me the job specifically. Said out of all of my girls and I, i’d be the only one who could handle it,” You admitted. This confession made Hoodie rise from his chair, walking up to you quickly. His gloved hand squeezed your face, forcing you to pucker out your lips like a fish. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation sweetheart. We’re not like the married men you pluck off of the streets. We can seriously hurt you,” He snarled. His ski mask stared down at you ominously, the tension in the room only becoming thicker by the minute.

“Actually, that’s why I accepted the offer,” You countered. Hoodie’s hardened facade cracked for a moment, his hand loosening. “Said you three with rough around the edges, but that you’d indulge in my darkest fantasies,” You confessed, your face turning a darker shade of red. Masky tossed the note aside, taking a step closer to you. “Oh yeah princess? And that’s that?” The brunette asked. Three sets of eyes stared at you intensely, awaiting your next words. “To be fucked ruthlessly by three mysterious men in mask,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Hoodie couldn’t hide his smirk, his eyes flickering up to his companions. “I think she’s starting to grow on me,” He purred, releasing his grip on your face.

“Before we begin, I also have these,” You say, digging into your purse and pulling out four pills. The boys rounded you in a circle, eyeing them suspiciously. “What’s t-that?” Toby asked. You scratched the back of your neck, as if you weren’t completely sure yourself. “Your boss attached them to the note. Said they’d help us all loosen up a bit,” You explained. Toby was the first to reach for one, popping the tiny pill without a second thought. “Well shit, if the kids doing it,” Hoodie grumbled, following his lead. You met Masky’s gaze, the last two pills sitting in the palm of your hand. “Ladies first, princess,” He said. You had taken ecstasy dozens of times before, but never with clients. You had known of The Operator for years, the girls you worked alongside serving his men on occasion. He had never requested you before though and he had never given his proxies an opportunity like this.

You hard swallowed the pill, cringing as it scraped against the back of your throat. Masky finally took the last pill from your hand, swallowing it as if it meant nothing. “You sure about this sweetheart?” Hoodie purred mockingly, admiring how flustered you already seemed. You shrugged off your trench coat, revealing nothing underneath. Toby’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, soaking in every curve that was exposed. “Knees, princess,” Masky barked, regaining your attention. You did as instructed, your knees scraping against the crusty old carpet. You couldn’t deny the bubbling in your stomach as the three of them surrounded you, undoing their belts in unison. The mixed clinking sounded like heaven to you, your tongue flattening out across your bottom lip.

Toby had taken out his cock first, your mouth gravitating towards him. You licked the bottom of his length from the bottom to his tip, kitten licking his slit. He visibly shuddered, causing you to grin. “You do that too much to the kid he’ll cum right now,” Hoodie snickered. Masky had casually lit a cigarette, tilting his mask up just enough to inhale the stick. “S-Shut up,” Toby argued weakly. Your hands found their way to Masky and Hoodies cocks, Masky more girthy and Hoodie longer. Toby was an even mix of the two, your mouth bobbing up and down on his cock. Your hands jerked the older proxies off, your eyes never straying from Toby’s face. The bottom half of his face was covered with a face mask, but his eyes. Oh, his sweet and delicious eyes stared down at you. You had captivated him, the way you took him to the base.

A rough hand grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking you off of Toby’s twitching cock. “Quit hoggin’ her,” Hoodie snarled. He shoved you onto his cock, your eyes welling up with tears as he hit the back of your throat. You struggled to keep up with his aggression, your jaw going slack as he face fucked you. “Shit, her mascaras running already,” Masky grumbled, inhaling his cigarette sharply. He rutted his hips into your hand, as he exhaled. Your core was aching, your thighs subtly rubbing together to create some form of friction. You could feel the ecstasy taking effect much faster than normal, your ultimate fantasy coming true before your very eyes. Fuck, you owed their boss big time.

Hoodie yanked you off of his cock, a string of saliva attached from his tip to your lips. “Open up your mouth pretty girl, let’s see if you can fit all of us at once,” Masky smirked. He could feel himself letting loose, his gloved hand grabbing your chin. You tried to open your mouth as wide as possible, the three of their cocks competing to shove their way in. “Can’t even suck three cocks? Pathetic. What’re you getting paid for?” Hoodie spat, a sadistic smile hidden by his ski mask. You struggled to breathe as they guided you onto the bed, Masky’s hand grabbing your chin first. “Either these drugs are really good or you’re looking really fuckin pretty princess,” He grumbled. He could feel warmth spreading through out his body, the exhaled cigarette smoke escaping through the sides of his mask. He loomed over you, leaning close towards your ear.

Your body was practically vibrating with anticipation, a chill running down your spine. “Maybe sometime i’ll have you for myself, just you and me,” Masky rambled, talking more than he usually did. A firm set of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, resulting in your back colliding with the mattress. “You’re s-s-supposed to share, remember?” Toby asked, relieved at the sight of your bare breast. He eagerly leaned over, pulling down his mask. His gash was hidden on the over side of his face, his pale gray skin a light shade of pink as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back nearly arched off of the bed, your nipples hardened and more sensitive than normal. “Hey loverboy, since you’re so in love go ahead and make yourself useful and stretch her out for us, will you?” Hoodie asked, tapping the head of his cock on your lips. Your tongue rolled out on instinct, licking the underside of his shaft.

Masky tossed the cigarette aside, using his gloved hands to pry apart your thighs. Your cunt was so wet it was almost dripping down your thighs, a sight so painfully mouth watering it took everything in him to not yank off his mask and dig in. Instead he took a deep breath, his body buzzing with euphoria. “Keep her mouth busy,” He replied. Hoodie smirked at his command, shoving his cock down into your mouth. With confidence you were unable to see him, the brunette slipped off his mask. He used two of his gloved fingers to open your folds, admiring your drenched sex. “Fuck, she’s so fuckin wet for us,” Masky grumbled, before attaching his lips to your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure almost mind numbing as he sucked harshly at your clit. Toby released your nipple, the bud growing only more sensitive from the abandonment of his warm mouth.

Toby reattached his mouth to your other breast, ignoring the feeling of your heart pounding against your rib cage as he sucked. “Feelin good sweetheart?” Hoodie asked mockingly, his ominous stitched frown staring down at you. His cock brutally hit the back of your throat, your moans vibrating his shaft further. Masky’s hands tightened around your thighs, keeping them pried apart as he devoured your cunt. “Awe does that feel good? Having Masky eat that pretty pussy of yours?” Hoodie continued, relishing in the sight of your thighs squeezing his partners head. The warmth spreading across Toby’s chest only made him more feral, his hips involuntarily grinding against the bedding as his teeth grazed your nipple. “This is what you wanted right? Your ultimate fantasy right?” Hoodie continued. His fingers were tangled in your hair, yanking ever so often. He enjoyed watching your body react to his every word, your skin littered with goosebumps.

“You’re trembling already. How are you gonna handle all three of us at once if you can’t handle a little foreplay?” Hoodie continued. He watched you attempt to keep up with his thrust, your mind spinning. Toby released your nipple, attaching his lips to your breast. “Awe you poor thing, the kids gonna litter you in as many marks as possible. Hope you like hickies,” Hoodie continued. You could feel your core tightening, Masky’s tongue relentless as he lapped at your clit. You could feel his tongue poke at your entrance, one of your hands flying down to his hair. Your hips grinded against his face, your breath shuddering as Hoodie pulled out of your mouth. Sinful moans instantly spewed from your lips, bouncing off of the motel room walls. “Sounds like someone’s close to cumming, how cute,” Hoodie grinned. He pulled your hair to continue looking up at him, preventing you from seeing Masky’s exposed face. “Go on sweetheart, cum on his face,” He cooed.

Toby released a patch of your skin with a pop, a shock of electric euphoria crashing down over you. Your back arched off of the bed as you came on Masky’s tongue, his hooded eyes watching your face as you shamelessly came. His gloved hands were harsh, keeping your thighs pried open. He continued to devour you until he was sure you were done, his chin coated in your juices as he emerged from your thighs. “I want her cunt,” Masky said instantly, claiming your pussy for his own. Hoodie grunted as he helped rearrange you, Masky pulling down his mask as he laid underneath you. On all fours you hovered above him, feeling Hoodies gloved hands pull apart your cheeks from behind. “Fine by me, kid you get her mouth,” Hoodie ordered. Toby was slowly jerking off cock, kneeling beside your mouth. “W-Why can’t I get her ass?” He bickered.

You could feel Masky’s hands slide down your hips, causing you to bite your bottom lip to refrain from whimpering. “Because you’re going to nut in five seconds and I plan on fucking her until she can’t walk,” Hoodie argued. You could feel Masky align himself with your entrance, before pushing himself inside. Your velvet walls clung to him instantly, your loud moan interrupting the arguing at hand. You grabbed onto his mustard jacket, feeling him bottom out inside of you. “Fuck princess, you feel so fuckin, warm,” Masky sputtered. He could feel his cheeks flaming red with embarrassment, the ecstasy hitting him far harder than he could’ve imagined. It was like he could hear all of you, your breathing, your heart beat, even the little whimpers that were clawing their way out of your throat.

For a brief moment he swore he could’ve met your gaze, Toby’s thin fingers guiding your face to his cock. You teasingly sucked the tip, feeling Hoodie shove himself inside of you. “We may need to take her home, shit, she didn’t even need any, fuck, prep,” Hoodie groaned, bottoming out as well. Your head was spinning, the taste of Toby’s salty precum dancing on your tastebuds. Your body was electrified with warmth and lust, your vision growing spotty as you felt Masky and Hoodie begin to move. You grabbed handfuls of Masky’s jacket, unable to stop your sinful moans. Even as Toby guided you to suck his cock, your unholy noises were still as loud as ever. Masky grabbed your hips, noting the way tears free flowed down your cheeks. He rammed upwards into you, noticing the way your eyes rolled back into your head.

“That’s it princess, you can take it,” The brunette praised, mesmerized by you. You looked ethereal, falling apart between the three of them like this. Your jaw had gone slack and was growing sore as Toby used your throat as he pleased, satisfied in the gagging he made you produce. Hoodies hips never let up for a moment, his brain on auto pilot as his body rammed into you. Insults swam around his brain, failing to leave his lips as he fucked your unexplored hole. The four of you were too high to play mind games, addicted the feeling you gave one another. You felt caught in the middle, completely cock drunk as three strong pairs of hands kept you upright. “Feels soooo g-g-good, motherfuckin- I can’t,” Toby whined, his hips stuttering. He hadn’t anticipated his orgasm, his body producing one without any warning. His cum flooded your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you swallowed all that you could. Toby watched, mesmerized as you continued sucking him half hard.

He was twitching in euphoria, his hands fallen by his sides as he soaked in the overstimulation. “Knew the kid was gonna cum first,” Hoodie grumbled, his fingers digging so hard into your skin they promised bruises in their morning to come. Masky felt like he was breathing on manual mode, his breath shallow as he looked at you. “Princess, touch yourself. We’ll hold you up. Cum on our cocks so we can fill you up,” Masky offered, his words much more softer than he meant for them to be. Dazed, you used your spare hand to slither down to your clit, drawing sloppy circles around the sensitive bud. Your body began to tremble, Toby’s cock falling out of your mouth as you dropped your head. Your moans were babbles and curses, your mind completely cock drunk as Masky and Hoodie fucked you at the same time.

“Ha, feel that Masky? She’s about to cum already. Filthy girl,” Hoodie snickered, pretending that he wasn’t on the edge as well. Masky’s smooth voice was like the light at the end of the tunnel, the only thing you could audibly hear. “Come on princess, cum for us. Cum for me. Be good,” He encouraged, fucking upwards into your g spot. Your vision became hazy as you came, sweat dripping down your forehead and body trembling in their grasp. Your knuckles were white from grabbing Masky’s jacket so hard, your body withering in euphoria. The boys didn’t take long after that, cumming inside of your ass and cunt as they pleased. The four of you were entangled messes, the ecstasy overriding any sense of pride or moral obligation.

It was Toby who spoke first, cheeks flushed pink.

“So, we’re bringing her home with us right?”

[lostin-lun4r]

Jeff most definitely lives for a make out session in his room, blasting whatever rock music is on his mp3 player.

Just imagine, it's late at night, most of the other residents are fast asleep, and you sneak out of your room and right towards your boyfriends. As he opens the door, his hair is damp–from just getting out of the shower– and he's only wearing a pair of sweatpants that hang deliciously low. Music flows inside the room, coming from the speaker he had snagged from one of his target houses. Before he can even question your arrival, you’re shoving him back, shutting the door behind you and locking your lips with his.

Your hand finds his dark strands, yanking him closer and he chuckles against your mouth, hands finding structure on your waist. The two of you move in sync, making your way toward his bed. His tongue prods around your mouth, making you whine as his hands tighten possessively around your hips. You only back away to catch your breath, a string of saliva stretching between your bruised lips.

Jeff groans as you dip your head down, suckling greedily on his warm skin, and creating new blooming marks. Blood rushes in your ears and the music is barely audible at this point.

“Fuck, miss me that much babe?”

You don’t answer, instead plant lines of kisses up his neck and jaw, and back to his mouth Truthfully, you weren’t planning on such a greeting, but when he appeared smelling like cedarwood, you couldn’t help yourself. Jeff was not complaining, how could he when his girl was practically trying to eat him alive?

His cock is already springing to life against his sweats and you whine as it rubs against your clothed clit. It’s so warm and you missed Jeff so much. His mission lasted a bit too long for your liking and you’re only trying to show how much his empty presence affected you.

Maybe I should stay out longer if this is what I come home to, Jeff thought as his hands slipped under your shirt.

Jeff is intoxicating and it's hard to stay away from him for long. Each kiss is like a hit of nicotine and you're already coming back in for more. His lips glide over your collarbone, making your shudder as he nibbles on your skin. You’re already trying to grind down on his bulge, but his strong hands keep you steady. Small huffs escape your mouth, frustration creeping up with each teasing kiss.

“You gotta be patient baby,” Jeff whispered against your skin,”Then you’ll get what you want.”

[maskysfawn]

boyfriend!brian who is just so so so so happy that you and tim are getting along.

his best buddy and his pretty girlfriend are talking to each other?? and making jokes?? and laughing??

he’s so happy. so so supportive.

so supportive that he’s literally holding you in his arms while tim’s tongue is shoved in your mouth.

his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist to keep your back against his chest, while his other hand is loosely around your jaw to keep your head angled towards tim.

his chin is hooked to your shoulder and he watches with excitement as his best buddy’s tongue is shoved in your mouth, and how you eagerly reciprocate it by sucking on it.

with him, there’s no “bro before hoes” or “girlfriend before friends” code.

in fact, he’ll fuck both you and tim!

>__<

a/n: working on a hoodie request and this thought came to me in the middle of work. i need to be sandwiched between them or there will be consequences.

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2025 - 07

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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

CONTAINS NSFW MINORS DNI

── .✦ Eyeless Jack/Ticci Toby x Female Reader - Drugged/Somnophilia

✦ . Warning: Porn without plot, slightly dead dove, slight dubcon, somnophilia, (consensual) drugged sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, creampie, unsolicited orgasms, vouyerism, double penetration, multiple orgasms, needles/medical equipment

✦ . Words: 8.1k

✦ . Note: This one is a doozy guys. Lots of tags here, lots of warnings, be mindful!! Everything that happens is consensual, you just have to read between the lines a bit. Don’t read if you’re not comfortable, but also don’t complain to me about it if you don’t like it!!! Anyway, here starts Kinktober in November, wish me luck!

Tag: #rainykinktober2025

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Toby has always had a thing for vulnerability. 

It’s not just the thrill of power—though he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that too. No, it’s deeper, more primal, a fascination with the fragile line between trust and surrender.

Ever since you and Toby started this twisted little relationship, he’s found himself drawn to those moments when you’re at your most exposed, your defenses crumbling under his touch.

In sex, it’s intoxicating. The way your body yields to him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as he pins your wrists above your head, his tics jerking his shoulders in erratic rhythms that only heighten the unpredictability. You arch into him, eyes wide and pleading, trusting him not to break you—even though you both know he could, if the urge struck. 

Day to day, it’s subtler but no less addictive. The way you lean into his side during quiet evenings in the decrepit cabin you share, your head on his shoulder as rain patters against the warped windows. Or how you let him wrap his arms around you from behind while you’re cooking, your laughter soft and unguarded when his fingers twitch involuntarily against your waist. 

“T-Toby, that tickles,” you might murmur, turning to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, oblivious to the storm raging in his thoughts—the urge to hold you tighter, to claim every inch of that trust.

But his favorite thing? 

God, it’s when you’re asleep. 

Curled up next to him in the narrow bed, your chest rising and falling in slow, even waves, so utterly at peace. The moonlight filters through the cracks in the blinds, casting silver shadows over your skin, highlighting the curve of your hip under the thin sheet, the way your lips part just slightly as if whispering secrets to the dark. 

You’re so vulnerable then, aren’t you? Trusting him completely to keep you safe in the dead of night, when the woods outside whisper threats and the monsters—real ones, like him—could so easily take advantage. Toby lies there, propped on one elbow, his dark eyes tracing every detail: the flutter of your eyelashes, the pulse at your throat, the way your fingers twitch in dreams he can only imagine.

He can’t help but watch you, his breath stuttering with each tic. Sometimes, he leans in closer, his hand hovering before gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

“S-so pretty,” he whispers to himself, voice cracking like static on an old radio. And then, because the pull is too strong, he kisses you—soft at first, a ghost of lips against your forehead, then trailing down to your neck, where he lingers, inhaling the warm scent of your skin. His touches grow bolder in these stolen hours—fingers skimming the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath to trace lazy circles over your stomach, feeling the heat of you, the softness that yields without resistance. 

You stir sometimes, a sleepy murmur escaping—“Toby?”—but you never fully wake, drifting back into oblivion, leaving him aching with the knowledge that you’re his to protect, to adore, to tear apart if he wants.

And that’s when it all really began.

It started innocently enough—or as innocent as things get in your world. One night, after a brutal mission left him wired and aching, Toby had stumbled back to the cabin late, the scent of blood and forest clinging to his hoodie. You were already asleep, curled under the blankets like a gift waiting to be unwrapped, your breaths soft and even. He hadn’t planned it, not really; he’d just meant to collapse beside you. 

But seeing you there, so trusting, so exposed… it ignited something feral. 

His hands had trembled as he peeled back the sheets, his shaky fingers tracing the curve of your thigh, dipping lower until he was between your legs, mouth watering at the thought.

You’d stirred only when his tongue delved in, lapping at you with desperate hunger, the taste of you pulling a guttural groan from his throat. Your eyes had fluttered open, hazy with sleep, finding him buried under the covers, his shoulders jerking as he devoured you, your panties snagged around your ankles. 

“T-Toby?” you’d murmured, voice scratchy and confused, but then understanding dawned, and you’d arched into him, fingers tangling in his messy hair. 

“Don’t stop… please.” He’d made you cum right there, your moans shrill and loud, until you were trembling and spent, pulling him up to kiss you fiercely.

From then on, it became his obsession—your obsession. Toby gets off so badly on it, the way your body responds even in sleep, pliant and warm, no barriers between you. 

He’d wait until you were deep under, drooling slightly on the pillow, your limbs heavy and relaxed, before sliding into you slowly, savoring every inch as you enveloped him without a word. The friction, the heat, the absolute surrender—it drove him wild, his hips snapping erratically as he fucked you into the mattress, whispers spilling from his lips like confessions. 

“S-so perfect… all m-mine…” And when you’d finally wake, eyes widening at the feel of his cock buried deep in your cunt, you’d cling to him immediately, legs wrapping around his waist, nails digging into his back as you gasped his name. 

“Yes, Toby—harder—fuck—” It was his favorite, that moment of transition from dream to reality, your trust turning into raw need.

You loved it just as much, encouraging him with sleepy smiles in the mornings after. 

“You can do it anytime, Toby,” you’d whisper, nuzzling into his neck during lazy afternoons. “Fuck me when I’m asleep all you want. I like waking up to you like that—feeling you already inside me. It’s so good.” 

It made him feel powerful, needed, in a way nothing else could. Sometimes he’d come home from missions in the dead of night, still buzzing with adrenaline, and head straight for your sleeping form. No words, just shedding his gear and diving under the sheets, his mouth on you before you could even register the intrusion. Your eyes would flutter open to the sight of the blanket tented over his head, his hands gripping your thighs as he licked and sucked, bringing you to a shuddering climax that blurred your vision terribly.

So, of course, something like this would happen to him.

“It’ll be alright, Toby,” you say softly, thumb brushing over his stubbled jaw. “EJ just needs some material for his study. He said it’s just a little medicine to make me sleep for a bit, and I’ll stay on his medical bed until it wears off. He’ll keep good watch, I promise.” Your voice is steady, but Toby’s fingers twitch against your hips, a nervous tic betraying the calm he was trying to exude.

“N-not sure I like this,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly, punctuated by the occasional jerk of his shoulder. “Y-you, asleep, down there with h-him? What if somethin’ goes wrong?” His protectiveness wraps around you like a heavy blanket, warm but suffocating. 

Toby’s always been your shield, his hatchet a promise of safety in a world crawling with things that go bump in the night. Letting you out of his sight, especially in a place as the Slendermansion, feels like a betrayal of that unspoken vow.

“He’s your friend, Toby,” you remind him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, where the scar tissue pulls tight. “You trust him, don’t you? And besides, I’m the only true human around, so Jack was very eager.” 

It’s a gentle nudge, and though Toby’s jaw clenches, he nods reluctantly, his hand squeezing yours.

“F-fine,” he says, exhaling sharply. “But I’m comin’ with you. N-no way I’m lettin’ my ba-baby sleep in some creepy b-basement without me.” His resolve is unshakable, and you can’t help but smile.

The trek to the Slendermansion is quiet, the forest swallowing the crunch of your footsteps under a canopy of gnarled branches. Toby’s hand stays clasped around yours, his hatchet slung over his shoulder, its blade catching slivers of sunlight. The mansion looms ahead, a decaying monolith of cracked stone and shadowed windows, its presence oppressive yet all-too-familiar. You descend the creaking stairs to EJ’s basement abode, the air growing cooler, tinged with the sterile tang of antiseptic and rust.

Eyeless Jack waits in his makeshift lab, a cavernous space lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs. Stainless steel tables gleam under the light, littered with vials, syringes, and notebooks scrawled with cryptic notes. His eyeless mask tilts toward you as you enter, the black voids where eyes should be unnervingly blank, though his voice is calm, assertive. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says, his tone devoid of the menace his appearance suggests. “This won’t take long. I’m studying physiological responses under induced sleep—heart rate, blood pressure, neural activity. The sedative is mild, FDA-approved for short-term use. You’ll be out for about fourty-five minutes, and I’ll monitor everything from here.” He gestures to a medical bed in the center of the room, its white sheets crisp and uninviting.

You glance at Toby, who’s eyeing the setup with suspicion, his fingers twitching against the handle of his hatchet. “J-just data, huh?” he asks, voice sharp. “No weird s-stuff? You’re not cuttin’ her open or nothin’?”

Jack shuffles off his old mask, placing it onto his desk in the company of friends. He smirks, just enough to aggravate the boy. 

“No cutting, Toby. Just sensors and vitals. She’ll be safe, I swear.” He holds up a small syringe filled with a clear liquid, tapping it lightly to dispel air bubbles. “This is the sedative. It’s fast-acting but wears off quickly. She’ll sleep, I’ll collect my data, and she’ll wake up feeling rested.”

You squeeze Toby’s hand, stepping closer to the bed. “See? It’s fine. Just a quick nap, and you’ll be right here.” You climb onto the bed, the cold leather creaking beneath you, and Toby follows, perching on a stool nearby, his gaze darting between you and Jack.

“Alright,” Jack says, approaching with the syringe. “You’ll feel a small pinch, then it’s lights out for a little over half an hour.” The needle slides into your arm, a brief sting followed by a cool rush through your veins. 

Toby’s hand tightens around yours, his breathing uneven as he watches. “I-I’m right here, okay?” he whispers, his voice softer now, almost tender. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

The world begins to blur, your eyelids growing heavy as the sedative pulls you under.

Damn, that was fast. 

Jack’s voice fades into a distant hum, explaining something about monitors and baseline readings, but all you can focus on is Toby’s thumb stroking your knuckles, grounding you as you slip into the dark. 

The last thing you hear is his stuttered, “S-sleep tight, baby,” and then you’re gone.

—

Toby’s grip on your hand is tight enough to bruise, but he can’t help it. 

Your fingers are slack in his, warm and soft, the way they always are against his always cold ones. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, too bright, too clean, and the air smells like bleach and metal and enough rust to make his stomach twist. Jack’s gloved fingers move over your skin, and every time those fingers brush your collarbone or the inside of your wrist, Toby’s shoulders jerk hard enough to rattle the stool he’s perched on.

“Easy,” Jack murmurs, not looking up from the electrode he’s pressing just above your chest. “Just a sensor. Heart rate, nothing invasive.”

Toby’s jaw clenches. “I know wh-what it is.” He doesn’t. “J-Just don’t linger.”

Jack’s face tilts—a silent acknowledgment—and his hands move faster. The beeping starts up, matching the rise and fall of your chest. Toby watches the line on the monitor like it’s a lifeline. Seventy-two beats per minute. Seventy-one. Seventy-three. Your pulse, alive and thumping.

Jack starts up an IV drip, and slides a blood-pressure cuff up your arm, velcro rasping. Toby’s free hand twitches toward the pocket knife tucked in his belt, then curls into a fist instead. 

He’s not gonna do anything reckless. Jack’s his friend. Jack swore. 

He has got to calm down.

But the sight of you laid out like this—shirt skewed up just enough to expose the soft skin of your stomach, legs slightly parted on the bed—makes something dark and hungry coil in his gut. Same as it does when he crawls into bed at 3 a.m., still reeking of dirt, and finds you drooling on the pillow, thighs warm and open under the sheets.

He remembers last week. Came in from a job, knuckles split, head buzzing. You’d been out cold, one arm flung above your head, mouth slack. He’d peeled your panties down with his teeth, buried his face between your legs before you even twitched. The way you’d woken up gasping, hips already rocking against his tongue, fingers scrabbling at his hair…

“Toby, fuck, don’t stop—”

But this isn’t the cabin. This isn’t his bed. This is Jack’s lab, and Jack’s watching your vitals like they’re a puzzle to solve, and Toby’s trying not to think about how easy it would be to slide his hand up your thigh right now, just to feel you clench around his fingers while you’re still gone.

“Toby.”

Jack’s voice cuts through the static in his head. The demon’s standing at the foot of the bed now, arms crossed. “Youre zoning out.”

Toby drags his eyes up. “I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out. Calm down.” Jack nods at the monitor. “She’s stable. She’s dreaming, probably. See the REM?”

Toby glances at your face. Your eyelids flutter, just barely, and your lips part on a soft exhale. A thin line of drool glistens at the corner of your mouth. His cock twitches, traitorously hard against his thigh, and he shifts on the stool, hating how obvious it must be.

Jack notices—of course he does. “Fourty-five minutes,” he says, softer now. “I’ll have what I need. Then you can take her home. Alright?”

Toby’s throat works. “Yeah.”

The silence stretches, thick and humming with the monitors’ steady beeps. Toby’s thigh bounces under the stool, the hard line of his cock trapped against his zipper, impossible to ignore. Every time you shift—just a twitch of your hips, a soft, breathy sound that might be a dream—he feels it like a jolt straight to his groin. Your fingers flex in his grip, limp and trusting, and he squeezes back harder, knuckles whitening.

Jack’s head tilts. The demon doesn’t have eyes, but Toby feels the stare anyway. A low, amused exhale hisses through the demon’s teeth as takes several deep breaths of the air.

“Jesus, Toby. You’re stinking up the whole lab. I can smell your hormones from here.”

Toby’s shoulders jerk. “F-Fuck off.”

Jack chuckles, the sound wet and gravelly. “Relax, I’m kidding. But seriously, how many times have you two fucked while she’s out cold if you’re this horny watching her sleep. You’re practically vibrating.”

Toby’s jaw locks. He knows Jack meant it lightheartedly, but Toby was never very good at covering his true feelings. He doesn’t answer. Just stares at your mouth—parted, glossy with a thin line of drool—and remembers the way you’d whimpered last night when he’d pushed in slow, your body clenching around him before your brain caught up.

Jack groans, realizing. “Oh, you are a freak. Please tell me you’re not just feeling her up while she’s unconscious.”

Toby’s head snaps up. “S-She likes i-it.” The words come out sharp, defensive, but there’s pride in them too. “She a-asks for it, di-dipshit.”

Jack leans back against the counter, arms crossed. “Elaborate.”

Toby’s eyes flick to you and he swallows. 

“I-I mean, it’s not… n-not all the time,” he starts, voice cracking on the first syllable. His thumb keeps rubbing the same small circle over your pulse, grounding himself. “Just… som-sometimes. When I come in late. Or, uh… when s-she’s already out.”

Jack doesn’t move. Doesn’t laugh. Just waits.

Toby swallows. “She-she’ll be on her side, or… or her stomach. Mouth o-open. Little wet spot o-on the p-pillow.” His shoulders jerk once, hard. “I just… pull the sheet down. She’s n-not even wearing clothes ha-half the t-time.”

He risks a glance at Jack. The demon’s head is cocked now, listening like he’s taking mental notes.

“I’ll… touch her f-first. Just-just fingers. See if she’s…” He trails off, cheeks burning under the hood. “Wet… She always is. Even i-in her sleep. L-Like her body knows.”

Jack hums, low. “And then?”

Toby’s voice drops to a near-whisper, glaring. “Then I… I go d-down on her. Under the blanket. She-she makes these li-little noises. Just… dreaming. Her hips move on their o-own.” His stutter worsens, words tripping over each other. “I-I keep going ‘til s-she’s close. Then I… I slide i-in. She clenches around me b-before she even opens her uh-eyes.”

He stops. He can’t look at Jack now, just focuses at your face—peaceful, lips parted, a flush on your cheeks from the sedative.

“She wakes up needy,” he mutters. “Al-Always. Wraps her legs around m-me like she’s scared I’ll stop. Tells me—tells me not to. Every t-time.”

Silence. The monitors beep. Thirty minutes left.

Jack finally speaks, voice neutral. “And she remembers?”

Toby nods, jerky. “Y-Yeah. Says it’s like waking up i-inside a dream. That she feels m-me even when she’s not conscious. Likes it.”

He risks another look. Jack’s still, but there’s something in the set of his shoulders—fascination, maybe. Or recognition.

“Interesting,” Jack says quietly. “The body responding before the mind. Physical actions manifesting through brain matter.”

Toby’s grip tightens on your hand again. “Don’t… don’t make it weird.”

Jack huffs a laugh. “Too late for that.”

Jack’s boots scuff across the concrete as he crosses to the desk, the sound too loud in the humming quiet. Toby’s pulse is in his throat now, a frantic drum against his collar. He tries to think of anything else, but your soft exhale pulls him right back. Your lips part on a tiny, sleepy sound, and his cock jerks so hard he has to shift his hips to keep from groaning.

Jack scribbles something on his clipboard, reading the monitors, then pads back. He stops just outside Toby’s personal space, voice low.

“Fuck her.”

Toby’s up in a flash, stool clattering. “F-Fuck off,” he snarls, body jerking so violently his neck cracks. “You don’t g-get to—”

“Purely medical,” Jack cuts in, palms raised. “I want the spike in her limbic system when she climaxes under sedation. Arousal response without conscious filter. Thirty seconds of data, max. Then you take her home.”

Toby’s laugh is sharp, cracked. “You’re a f-fucking weirdo.” He’s already leaning over the bed, sliding one arm under your shoulders, the other under your knees. Your head lolls against his chest, warm and heavy, and the feel of you limp in his arms makes his stomach flip with something between panic and hunger.

Jack doesn’t move. “Can’t get weirder than you bragging about railing her unconscious, Toby. I keep my back turned. Won’t look. Just the readings and vitals. One orgasm. You walk out and I never mention it again.”

Toby freezes. Your hair brushes his neck, your breath fans warm across his collarbone. He can smell your shampoo, and the thought of sliding into you right here, with Jack ten feet away pretending not to listen, makes his vision blur at the edges.

He stands there a beat too long, arms full of you, heart hammering against your ribs.

Jack’s voice drops, a velvet rasp that makes Toby’s skin prickle. “Think about it, Toby. How good it’d feel to make her cum and she doesn’t even realize it. No waking up mid-thrust, no sleepy eyes blinking open to pull you closer. Just her body giving in.”

Toby’s breath hitches, your limp weight in his arms suddenly heavier, warmer. He can picture it too vividly: your thighs trembling under his hands, the slick heat of you pulling him deeper, your pulse spiking on the monitors as you shatter around him. A shiver races down his spine, electric and wrong, making his knees buckle just a fraction. Nervous sweat beads at his temples, his tics firing off in erratic pops of his joints.

“She’s always so fragile when you do it at home,” Jack presses, stepping closer, his eyeless voids swallowing the light. “You go gentle, don’t you? ‘Cause one wrong move and she’s waking up. But now? With this?” He nods at the IV drip in your arm. “She won’t wake. You could pin her down, fuck her raw—no holding back.”

Toby’s mind fractures. 

What would you want? The question loops, frantic. You’d laugh it off in the morning, maybe—cup his face, kiss the scar on his cheek, murmur, “Toby, baby, if it feels good, do it. I trust you.” Or you’d arch a brow, teasing, “You know I love waking up wrecked. Don’t stop on my account.” But this isn’t the cabin’s creaky bed, isn’t your shared sheets tangled with familiarity. This is here, with Jack’s gaze on the data, your vitals beeping erratically. His teeth grind together, molars aching, as the old permission echoes back. “You can do it anytime, Toby.”

Jack sees it—the crack in his armor, the way Toby’s arms tighten around you like he’s already imagining the leverage. The demon leans in, voice a conspiratorial purr. “Come on, Toby. Give her the kind of orgasm that brands her insides. The one where she squirts without knowing why. You know you’ve always wanted to push that far.”

Toby’s hips jerk involuntarily, a low groan clawing up his throat. Heat floods his groin, sticky and insistent—his cock leaking pre into the front of his jeans, soaking through the denim in a dark, shameful patch. He’s crumbling, vision tunneling to the curve of your neck, the flutter of your pulse. 

Twenty-seven minutes left. Fuck.

Jack opens his mouth, but Toby’s had enough..

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

Jack’s jaw clicks shut.

Toby stares at you. Long. Too long. Your head lolls against his forearm, hair spilling over his skin like silk. Your lips are parted, breath warm and slow. His eyes trace every inch like he’s memorizing a map he’s already burned into his brain.

Then he looks at Jack. Hard. Dead in the mask.

“Nobody ever k-knows,” he grunts. “Not a word. Not a jo-joke. You keep your back turned. You don’t s-speak. You don’t look. You see t-the numbers, that’s it.”

Jack nods, slow. “Done.”

Toby’s chest heaves. One more beat. Two. He closes his eyes, jaw clenched so tight the scar pulls white. Then he moves.

He lays you back on the table with a gentleness that he reserves only for you, your body settling into the padded leather. He angles your hips toward him, one knee nudged between yours, your thigh brushing his. The sheet pools at your feet. Your shirt rides up, exposing the dip of your waist, the soft skin just above your shorts.

Jack turns and shuffles to his desk, sitting down on his chair, back facing the two of you.

Toby doesn’t look at him again.

Toby’s hands settle on your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft inner flesh just above your knees. He spreads you open slowly, trying his best not to let you lay too uncomfortably. Your legs fall apart with no resistance, knees bending, hips tilting up toward him in unconscious invitation. A low, animal sound rumbles in his chest.

He steps in, knees nudging the table’s edge, and presses. The hard ridge of his cock, trapped behind denim, drags along the seam of your shorts. Heat blooms through the layers, and he can’t stop the shudder that rips up his spine. His hips roll forward once, testing, grinding the length of himself against the clothes. Fuck. You’re warm even through the fabric, and the friction is maddening.

“Sh-shit,” he breathes, barely a whisper. His fingers flex, digging into your thighs hard enough to leave pale prints that flush pink when he eases up. 

His hands slide upward, palms skating over the curve of your hips, thumbs hooking under the hem of your shirt. He pushes it higher, higher, until the fabric bunches beneath your breasts. Cool air kisses your stomach and goosebumps rise in its wake. Toby’s mouth waters. He leans down, forehead brushing your sternum, inhaling the scent of your skin. His tongue darts out, tasting the salt just below your ribs, and he has to bite back another groan.

He straightens just enough to watch your face. Your lashes flutter, your lips part on a soft, breathy sound that isn’t quite a moan but close. It goes straight to his cock. He grinds again, harder this time, the denim rasping against you, the pressure exquisite. Pre soaks through his boxers, sticky and hot, smearing against the inside of his jeans with every roll of his hips.

His fingers find the button of your shorts. They tremble—just once—before popping it open. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband and tugs, the fabric dragging over your hips, catching for a heartbeat on the swell of your ass before sliding lower. He has to lift you slightly, one arm sliding beneath your lower back, arching you up so he can peel the pants down your thighs. They pool at your ankles and he kicks them aside.

You’re bare to him now except for the thin scrap of panties, darkened at the center with arousal you don’t even know you’re giving. Toby’s breath stutters. He palms himself through his jeans, squeezing hard, trying to rein in the urge to rip everything off and bury himself to the hilt. Not yet. He wants to savor.

His hands return to your thighs, pushing them wider until the muscles tremble. He drops to his knees beside the table, eye-level with the soaked cotton. One thumb traces the edge of your panties, teasing the elastic, then slips beneath. 

The heat of you is staggering enough to make him smile. He drags the pad of his thumb up your slit, parting your folds, coating his finger in your slick. 

He looks up at your head turned slightly, cheek pressed to the padding, mouth lazily open. Another soft noise escapes you, dreamy, and Toby’s vision whites out at the edges. He presses the heel of his hand against his cock, grinding into his own touch, his hips jerking helplessly.

Jack’s chair creaks. A low, muffled grunt comes from across the room, followed by the shuffle of his palm dragging over the lower half of his face. The air is thick, drenched in the sour-sweet scent of your arousal and the heady, muskier note of Toby’s own need. It clings to the back of the throat like smoke, and he thinks he’ll choke on it.

Toby doesn’t look up, doesn’t care. His world has narrowed to the slick heat between your thighs, the way your skin flushes under his mouth, the soft, involuntary roll of your hips when he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit.

He hooks two fingers into the soaked crotch of your panties and tugs. The elastic snaps against your hip, then gives, and he bunches the fabric in his fist, holding it aside like a curtain. Cool air kisses your bare folds and you shiver, thighs twitching open another inch.

His first kiss lands on the tender inside of your thigh, teeth grazing, then soothing with a slow lick. He works inward, open-mouthed presses of lips and tongue mapping every inch of soft skin until he reaches your center. He exhales, hot and shaky, against your folds, and you make the smallest sound—a breathy ‘mmph’ that isn’t quite a moan but makes his cock throb so hard his vision blurs.

He licks you open, slow and filthy, tongue curling up to circle your clit with the same lazy rhythm he uses when you’re half-awake and clinging to his shoulders. Your body answers without thought—hips tilting, a tremor in your thighs, slick coating his chin. He keeps the pace gentle, even as his own need claws at his spine. His free hand drops to his lap, palming the rigid line of his cock through denim, squeezing in time with each swirl of his tongue.

Toby has never made it to fucking you without you waking up. He’s only ever gotten the tip in before you’re blinking awake and smiling lazily at him.

He loves it, he does.

But knowing that he’s about to fuck your cunt as hard as he wants—without you waking up—he can barely hold himself back.

Your clit swells under his attention, flushed and glistening. He sucks it softly, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, then releases with a wet pop. Another slow lick, base to tip, savoring the taste of you just like he always does. Your fingers twitch against the padding, your head turns, cheek pressing deeper into the table, lips parted on a silent gasp—but you still don’t wake up.

Toby’s hips jerk forward, grinding into his own hand. Precome leaks steadily now, soaking through layers of fabric, making the slide of his palm slick. He groans against you, the vibration rumbling through your core, and your thighs try to close on reflex, but he wedges his shoulders between them, keeping you spread.

He could stay here forever. Could lick you open until the sedative wore off and you woke up mid-orgasm, confused and dripping and begging. But the monitors beep faster now, your heart rate climbing, brain waves flickering into theta, and Jack’s pen is scribbling just as fast.

Toby doesn’t care. He licks you again, slower, deeper, and feels you flutter against his tongue.

His mouth seals over your cunt, tongue spearing deep, curling inside you like he’s trying to taste your heartbeat. The wet heat of you clenches around him, tight and pulsing, and he groans into your folds like he’s stumbled upon water in the desert. His fist loosens on your panties, the elastic snapping back to press against the jagged gash on his cheek, the fabric soaked and clinging to his skin. He doesn’t care, doesn’t feel it. He only feels you and your walls fluttering, your hips rocking in tiny, unconscious thrusts.

His thumb finds your clit, and he rubs small, frantic circles the way he knows you need when you’re close. Your thighs tremble and your breath hitches in a soft, sleepy whine. He answers with a harder press of his tongue, fucking into you in short, sharp thrusts, then dragging back up to lap at your clit again.

He pulls back just long enough to slide two fingers through your folds, giving him an eyeful of your messy cunt, then pushes his middle finger inside. One knuckle, two, curling hard against that spot that makes your back arch even in sleep. Your cunt grips him like a vice, and he adds a second finger, stretching you open, scissoring gently before curling again. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking in time with the thrust of his fingers.

He’s moving so fast he’s dizzy.

Your body responds like it’s been waiting for this—hips rolling, thighs tightening around his shoulders, a soft, breathy “ah—” slipping from your lips. The monitors spike, your heart rate stuttering, brain waves flickering into sharp, frantic peaks. Toby feels it in the way you clench around his fingers, the way your slick coats his thick fingers and drips down his wrist.

He doesn’t slow down, just fingers you faster, tongue lashing your clit, thumb pressing hard circles until your thighs quake and your cunt flutters wildly around him. 

Come on, baby, he thinks, teeth grazing your clit just enough to sting. Come for me. Let me feel it.

You’re close. So close. He knows it. He knows you.

Toby’s eyes snap to your face the second your moan slips out, soft and drowsy, like you’re half-lost in a dream you don’t want to wake from. Your head rolls back against the padding, neck arching as your lips drag open into a lazy gasp. One arm lifts, fingers curling near your cheek before flopping back down, and your feet kick once, twice, heels scraping the leather in tiny, helpless jerks. It’s so you, so fucking cute even when you’re drugged and forcibly open for him, that a crooked, lovesick grin splits his face against your cunt.

He doubles down—tongue spearing deep, thumb grinding hard circles over your clit. His fingers pump faster, curling against that spot inside you that makes your hips buck. Your thighs clamp around his ears, trembling, and he feels it, the tell-tale lock-up of your muscles, the way your breath catches in a high, broken gasp.

There it is.

He pulls back just enough to mumble into your slick folds, voice muffled and raw, “C-C’mon, baby, give i-it to m-m-me. Fuck—”

Your body seizes. A full-body shudder rips through you, thighs clamping down, back arching off the table. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, pulsing in hot, wet waves as you cum, disgruntled moans and whines spilling from your lips. Slick gushes over his tongue, dripping down his chin, pooling under your ass. He drinks it, lapping greedily, tongue flicking through your folds to catch every drop, thumb still rubbing your clit in slow, soothing circles as the aftershocks roll through you.

Your hips twitch. Your toes curl. Your head lolls to the side, mouth open, drool glistening at the corner, and Toby groans into you, the sound vibrating against your oversensitive skin. He doesn’t stop until you’re limp again, until the last tremor fades and your thighs fall open, boneless.

He pulls back slowly, lips shiny, chin dripping. 

The monitors are screaming now, brain waves spiking into sharp, shaky peaks, heart rate fluttering like a trapped bird. Jack’s pen hasn’t stopped moving the entire time.

Eleven minutes left.

“That’s it,” Jack says, turning. “We’re—”

Toby’s already on his feet, belt clanking, zipper rasping down quickly. His jeans shove down just enough to free his leaking cock, the tip a terrible shade of red, twitching wildly in his palm. His hand wraps around the length, jerking once, twice, hips stuttering forward like he can’t not move.

Jack’s mouth opens. “Toby—”

“Shut up.” His growl is low as he speaks. “Stick t-to your fucking n-notes.”

Jack’s gaze hones onto your spread thighs—still trembling, slick and swollen, panties twisted to the side. Toby drags the head of his cock through your messy folds, coating himself in your release, smearing it up and down your slit. A broken moan tears from his throat when the tip catches on your entrance.

“Toby, the sedative’s wearing off in—” Jack starts.

Toby pushes in. One smooth, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your cunt flutters around him, still sensitive, still dripping. His head falls back, eyes rolling, a guttural “Fuck—” punched out of him as he bottoms out.

Jack spins on his heel, chair creaking as he drops into it, back rigid and facing the wall. The monitors spike again with your heart rate jumping, a sharp, involuntary clench around Toby’s cock bullying into you.

Toby doesn’t wait. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging bruises into soft flesh, and he thrusts. Hard. Deep. The table rocks under the force, leather squeaking. Your body jolts with each snap of his hips, breasts bouncing under your rucked-up shirt, head lolling to the side. A soft, confused sound slips from your lips, but your eyes stay closed—but you stay asleep.

Toby leans over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other sliding up to palm your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. His thrusts turn erratic, desperate, hips slamming into yours with wet, filthy sounds. “Dammit,” he rasps, voice cracking. “M’sorry—”

Jack’s pen scratches furiously, pretending he can’t hear the slap of skin, the broken moans, the way your cunt squelches around Toby’s cock with every brutal thrust and the mind-numbing smell of it all.

Toby doesn’t care. He fucks you like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out.

He watches the back of Jack’s head like a predator, eyes narrowed, breath ragged. Jack’s claws rake through his own hair, dragging over the scalp in sharp, frustrated pulls. One hand drops to his face, palm pressing hard over his nose, trying to block the thick, heady scent of sex filling the room. His leg bounces, boot tapping a frantic rhythm against the floor.

Toby smirks, crooked and vicious, and lets the moan rip out of him, loud, shameless. “F-fuck, yeah… take i-it, baby—” His voice cracks on the stutter, but the words are clear. Another thrust, deeper, the wet slap of skin echoing off concrete. “You w-wanted this, Jack. Science, right?”

Jack’s shoulders stiffen. A low, uneasy sound escapes him, cursing under his breath. His claws scrape over the desk, leaving faint gouges in the wood. Then his hand drops, fumbling at his belt. The clink of metal, the rasp of a zipper. He doesn’t turn around, just hunches forward, forearm pressed to the desk, one clawed hand wrapping around his own cock. He strokes once, slow, then faster, hips jerking into his fist.

Toby’s eyes lock on the movement, the way Jack’s back arches, the way his claws dig into his own thigh for leverage. The sight punches a fresh wave of heat through him, cock throbbing inside your oozing cunt. 

“Shit, l-look at you—” he rasps, voice breaking. “J-jerking off to me f-fucking her. Freak.”

Jack doesn’t answer. Just strokes harder, claws clicking against the desk, breath hitching behind bared pointy teeth. His leg stops bouncing. His whole body tenses, coiled tight.

Toby leans over you, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw, thumb brushing your skin. He thrusts harder, faster, the table rocking dangerously. “G-gonna fill her up,” he growls, eyes never leaving Jack’s hunched form. “Gonna make h-her drip with i-it. You’ll sm-smell me on her for d-days.”

“Fuck—” Jack’s claws scrape the desk as his fist pumps faster, hips jerking into his grip. His arm presses harder against the wood, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to disappear into the shadows.

Toby laughs, breathless. “Y-you were all gung ho about t-this five minutes ago,” he pants, hips snapping forward, your cunt squelching around him with every thrust. “N-now you’re j-jerking off to it? Nasty f-fucker.”

Jack’s hand stutters, but he doesn’t stop. His claws dig deeper into the desk, leaving fresh gouges.

Toby leans up, sweat dripping from his brow. He slides his hands under your knees, hooking them in the crooks of his elbows, spreading you wide. Your legs dangle, limp and open, hips tilted up to take him deeper. The new angle drags the head of his cock against your front wall with every brutal thrust, and your body answers with a loud, dreamy whimper, thighs trembling.

“T-turn around,” Toby rasps, voice cracking on the stutter. “L-look at her. Look how g-good she’s taking it.”

Jack doesn’t move. His fist keeps moving, faster now, the wet sound of it gentle compared to the mess behind him.

“Jack.” Toby’s moan is filthy, teasing. “L-look at what you s-started. She’s dripping for m-me. F-fuck, she’s gonna cum again—”

Your cunt clenches hard, a fresh gush of slick coating his cock, and Toby’s head falls back, scarred cheek twitching up into a nasty smile. “See?” he snarls, hips slamming into you, the table scratching against the concrete floor. “She’s amazing, and you’re h-hard as fuck listening t-to me ruin her—”

Jack’s shoulders jerk. A broken sound tears from his throat, but he still doesn’t turn.

Your head lolls off the table’s edge, neck crooked, hair spilling messily over the side. Each thrust punches a loud, broken moan from your throat—raw, unfiltered noises that even Toby has never heard before. The sound ricochets off concrete, wet and desperate, and it’s the final crack in Jack’s restraint.

His chair spins. Head tilted, sharp teeth bared in a snarl that’s half-hunger, half-rage. His cock juts up, flushed dark, slick with precum that drips over his knuckles as he fucks his fist in frantic, uneven strokes. His nostrils flare, drinking in the thick, heady cocktail of sex and sweat and both of you.

Toby laughs, breathless and vicious. “Th-there he is,” he pants, hips snapping harder, the table creaking. “F-fucking look at her, Jack. Look h-how she moans for me.”

Your moans climb, louder, sharper, hips jerking in tiny, helpless circles. Your cunt clamps down, fluttering wildly, and Toby’s grin turns slack, eyes widening. “She’s g-gonna—”

You cum. A full-body shudder rips through you, back bowing off the table, thighs quaking in the crooks of his elbows. Slick gushes around his cock, dripping down your ass, pooling beneath you. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, then another broken moan, “T-Toby—” 

It’s so slurred, and breathy, and garbled through sleep-thick air—but it’s enough to make both boys crazy.

Toby’s moan cracks into a growl. Jack’s follows, breathy and snarled, claws digging into his own thigh as his fist flies over his cock, precum splattering his jeans.

Their faces lock over your writhing body, then flick back to you, then to each other again, a silent, electric circuit.

Jack’s chest heaves. “Fuck, that was hot,” he rasps, voice gravel against the strain not to moan.

Toby’s grin is all teeth. “Y-yeah? Told you she’s perfect.”

Jack’s fist slows, slick with precome. “G-gonna cum?”

“Fuck yeah.” Toby’s hips stutter, cock dragging through your spasming cunt. “C-cum with me, Jacky.”

Jack’s nod is sharp, desperate. His claws dig into his thigh as he pumps himself faster again, eyes glued to where Toby disappears inside you.

Toby leans in, voice low and filthy, mocking his Jack spoke to him before this whole fiasco. “Imagine that f-fist is her tight little cunt, Jack. Warm. W-Wet. Squeezing you dry.” He thrusts hard, your body jolting. “She’d milk you, wo-wouldn’t she? Beg for it in h-her sleep.”

Jack groans, hips bucking. “God, yes, keep talking.”

“Bet she’d whimper y-your name,” Toby purrs, eyes gleaming. “‘Jack, p-please, deeper—’”

Jack’s head drops back, mask tilting to the ceiling. “Fuck, Toby—”

“Cum in her,” Toby hisses, thrusting deep, grinding against your cervix. “Paint h-her insides. M-Mark her.”

Jack’s moan rips free. His cock pulses, thick ropes of cum splattering his fist, his hoodie, his jeans. It drips over his claws hot and messy as he rides it out, hips jerking into his grip.

Toby follows a heartbeat later. “Now—” He buries himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he unloads, pulse after pulse flooding your cunt. “Take i-it, baby—” He grinds deep, milking every drop, eyes locked on Jack’s spent, trembling form.

The room is thick with the after-scent of sex—sweat, cum, and the sharp tang of everyone’s arousal. Toby’s chest heaves, his cock still twitching inside you, every pulse a lazy throb against your oversensitive walls. Jack’s claws are slick, hoodie streaked, head tilted back just enough to show the glint of sharp teeth as he catches his breath.

They’re both opening their mouths to make some awkward statement or nasty joke, when a sound cuts through the haze.

A low, drowsy groan. Your arms shift, hands dragging up to rub at your eyes. Your knees tug weakly, thighs trying to close, but Toby’s still got you folded open in the crooks of his elbows. Your body jerks once, confused, then stills as the awkward angle registers.

Your eyes blink open, slow and syrupy.

Jack’s right there face slack-jawed, cock still in his fist, cum dripping from his claws onto the floor. You blink again, pupils blown wide with sleep and confusion, gazing at him upside down from where your head hangs off the table’s edge.

“…Jack?” Your voice is hoarse, cracked from unregistered moaning. You shift, and that’s when you feel it—Toby buried deep, stretching you, filling you, the wet heat of his release starting to leak out around him.

Your head lifts, hair sticking to your cheek. Toby’s grinning down at you, smiling like an idiot stupidly in love. “H-Hey, baby,” he pants, voice wrecked. “Welcome b-back.”

Your eyes dart from Jack’s spent cock to Toby’s smug face, then down to where your bodies are still joined. A slow, sleepy smile curves your lips.

“…Did I miss something fun?”

Jack lets out a long, mortified groan that echoes off the concrete.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry,” he mutters, yanking his hoodie down over the mess on his lap and shuffling sideways like a crab. One clawed hand fumbles for a cupboard handle, towels spill out in a frantic white avalanche. He snatches a fistful and turns his back, ears burning deep purplish.

You laugh, absolutely delighted.

“Filthy perverts, both of you,” you tease, voice still husky from misuse. Toby hasn’t moved an inch, he’s still buried deep, hips flush to yours, cock twitching every time you clench around him. His fingers brush damp hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your chest flutter.

“I thought I was having the best dream,” you murmur, grinning up at him. “Turns out it was just you two being gross.”

Jack shuffles beside the table, cheeks flaming, and starts peeling monitors off your skin. The sticky pads come away with little rip sounds, one wire is hopelessly tangled around your arm from all the rocking. 

He untangles it with careful claws, muttering, “Got everything I needed. The data’s gold. I, uh… don’t need anything else. Sorry for the, um… fuss.” He gestures vaguely at the cum-streaked table, the puddle on the floor, his own sticky claws. “My perversion, not yours.”

Toby snorts, leaning down to press a lazy kiss to your cheek. “T-told you she’d be cool with it.”

“Did you now?”

Your hand snakes up and back, fingers hooking into Jack’s belt loop with a lazy tug where he stands a bit away from you. His jeans are still open, zipper half-down, and the motion drags him forward until the bulge in his boxers is right at your face, the heat of him radiating through the thin cotton. Toby’s grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging crescents into your skin as he watches, pupils blown wide.

Jack’s hands hover in the air, claws flexing, unsure where to land. “I—I’m good, really—”

“Shh.” You cut him off, voice syrupy and drowsy. “You didn’t get to touch me, right? And since Toby’s always a greedy little hog…” You roll your hips in a slow, deliberate circle, making Toby’s cock slide shallowly inside you, he whines your name, high and wrecked. 

“Hush,” you murmur, then tug Jack’s boxers down just enough to free him again.

His cock springs out, flushed dark, still slick with his own release, a fresh bead of precome pearling at the tip. You wrap your fingers around him, and Jack jerks, a sharp, startled moan ripping from his throat. His claws finally settle on the edge of the table, knuckles white.

Toby’s hips stutter, shallow thrusts chasing the heat of your hand on Jack. “F-Fuck, you’re evil,” he pants, but he doesn’t stop you, just watches, transfixed as you stroke Jack slow and steady, thumb swiping over the head to spread the mess.

Jack’s head drops forward, head tilting, breath fogging the air. “Shit, I—” Another moan, broken, as you twist your wrist just right.

Your smile is wicked, still drowsy around the edges.

“Aw, I’m sad I missed the fun,” you murmur, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Tell you what… if I pretend to be asleep again, will you two fuck me as hard as you want?”

Toby’s grin is feral. Jack’s head leans back, a low, hungry growl rumbling behind it. They lock eyes—a confirmation, a challenge—and both nod like starved wolves.

You hum, satisfied, and guide Jack’s cock to your mouth. The slick tip slides between your lips, salty with his own release, and you take him in just past the head. A soft, sleepy moan vibrates around him as your eyes flutter shut, lashes fanning your cheeks. Your body goes lax again, head still hanging off the table’s edge, mouth slack and open.

Toby’s hips snap forward once, hard, burying himself to the hilt again. Jack’s claws dig into the table, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as your tongue flattens against him, warm and wet and perfect.

They don’t wait.

Toby sets a brutal rhythm, hands pressing under your knees to fold you open further. Jack threads careful claws into your hair, guiding your mouth down his length in shallow, greedy thrusts. The room fills with the wet slap of skin, your muffled moans, their ragged breathing.

Asleep, you take it all, and they give you everything.

๑ back to my kinktober masterlist

── .✦ rainrot4me2025, all rights reserved. ꩜ .ᐟ