Why does everyone forget Ticci Toby canonically has "sense focusing" abilities. I neeeed a fic where he can smell us like there is with all the EJ x reader fics. #thatshot
Oh my god bro he does this all the time, he thrusts into you so fucking fast and HARD that the headboard is slamming against the wall everytime he brings his hips back. The bed is creaking dangerously and as he slams into you again you just hear loud CRACK and the fucking headboard breaks, the support boards under the mattress snap and fall to the fucking ground. HE DOESN'T EVEN STOP WHEN YOU TELL HIM HE BROKE THE BED. he just keeps going, "Iâ I'LL BUY A NEW O-ONE!" He says as he keeps fucking into you, you're bordering overstimulation and he just won't stop no matter how many times he breaks the bed.
Summary: Being a cam girl is a fun gig. Flexible hours, dressing up in cute outfits, and arguably easy cash. Itâs almost made even better, knowing that youâve got troves of desperate men right under your thumb. Well, it is - until one of them gets too attached.
CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, sex work, reader is a cam girl (duh), female masturbation, male masturbation, sex toys, voyeurism, stalking, toxic behaviour, breaking and entering, dubious consent w/ noncon elements, unsafe sex, wet and messy, drool and spit, vaginal fingering, biting and marking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, possessive tendencies, dom/sub undertones, Tobyâs SUCH a desperate LOSER lmfao, and a total creep, also a bit psychotic, creampie
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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!
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Toby shouldâve never gotten a laptop.
He never saw the need for one beforehand, never cared - nor had the time - to waste his hours away in the online world. He had way bigger, and way more important priorities. Being one of Slenderâs top dogs meant that most, if not all of his time was spent devoting himself to a cause he barely understood. Kept so busy that he could barely even take a moment to form an independent thought.
But, despite all that, and despite Slenderâs best efforts - Toby was still human. Flesh, bone, and a beating heart. Needs, wants, desires. Curiosities.
So when heâs coming home from a mission in the city one night, and happens upon a discarded laptop in a dumpster behind an electronics store - he takes the bait. It had just been sitting there, the metal of its casing glinting in the moonlight, the charging cord barely a foot away.
Like it was beckoning him. Taunting him.
So, he takes it.
He wasnât expecting it to work, brought it home with the expectation that heâd get nothing but a black screen staring back at him. That heâd dispose of this momentary lapse of judgment, and go back to life as usual - dumping it back in the trash like he had never found it in the first place.
Thatâs not what happened. By some grace of god, or possibly by the devilâs hand - it worked. The screen flickered and blinked on when he connected the charger and plugged it into the nearest non-busted outlet in his vicinity. It worked. A few dead pixels in the left-hand corner, a hairline crack running down the centre - but it worked. That enough was enough to have Toby letting out a downright giddy little laugh to no one but the four walls of his room - eyes wide and reflecting the screen before him, like he was staring into the gates of heaven itself.
He was. He just didnât know it right then.
It didnât take long for him to become completely and utterly hooked. Any free time to himself he found himself in the exact same position - eyes burning from the blue light, back hunched into an absolutely abhorrent display of posture, his gaze glued to the screen before him. He was like a kid on Christmas, excitement thrumming through his veins every time his fingertips hit the keyboard.
His new toy. Opening up a door to a world he had been exiled from. Observing it all like a window shopper, stuck behind the glass as he gazed upon things he could never have. Things he never shouldâve seen. News stories, videos - some recounting disappearances and crimes he had committed with his own bare hands. Blogs and stories, profiles belonging to people he once knew.
Still living, just as he was, but on the other side of the coin. Unaware that he was still breathing, still wasting oxygen on his own wretched lungs as he peered into their lives. Analyzing the smiles on their faces. Wondering to himself, it was all a facade.
He spent days doing that. Checking in on old relatives, old classmates. Gritting his teeth when he would find out that they were doing well. Some married, some working towards some fancy degree. It felt like a swift punch to the gut, made him nauseous like their unknowing grins were an insult to life itself.
To him, they were.
Because why had they gotten it good? Why were they the ones thriving, and he was the one kicked to the curb? Living in a dusty old cabin that just barely had enough power to keep his screen lit.
He wasnât sure what he hoped would happen. That karma wouldâve dealt its heavy hammer onto all of their lives, leaving them sick, penniless - dead? Swiftly making them repent for everything they had done to him, one strike for every time they had ever pushed his face into the dirt.
But karma didnât take names. It was fickle. Wasnât some all seeing god that punished the horrid and cleansed the world with one swipe of its hand. If that were true, heâd probably be taken out right along with everyone who had wronged him.
His little escape from the horrors had quickly become just another set of horrors itself. Putting him into an even worse mood than before with an already frazzled mind from the events of the day, and yet he just couldnât tear himself away. It was some sort of sick fascination, like a voyeur, gazing upon peopleâs lives while they were none the wiser. And maybe thatâs why he just kept coming back. Maybe thatâs how he found you.
He canât really remember it all clearly, how he had stumbled upon this little goddess on his screen. Probably from some pop up ad on a porn site he had stumbled upon on one of his lonelier nights. All he remembered was seeing you. Front and centre. Top of the charts on the front page of the website you called home - right where you belonged. He remembered immediately thinking that it made sense, gazing at the little thumbnail snapshot of you - body covered in nothing but a sheer babydoll dress with the sweetest little smile curving your lips. It made sense, that you were the most clicked. And he hadnât even ever watched you yet.
But when he finally did? It was an entirely different story. You were ethereal. Exquisite. A marvel of a woman all done up in lacy lingerie. Your body, carved to the shape of his wildest desires, your voice soft and sweet like a sirenâs song. Eyes sparkling, lips plump, and the softest looking thighs he had ever laid eyes on. And donât even get him started on what lay between them.
He hadnât been with nearly as many girls as he wouldâve liked too. Had seen enough cunts that he could count them on one hand. But yours? It was perfect. He was sure of it. He didnât have to compare it to anything else to know that.
Always glistening and puffy by the time you peeled your panties off, legs spread to give your audience a nice show. Riling yourself up until you were desperate for it, soaking the lacy fabric so good he could see glistening strings of your slick attaching you to them before they broke. The first time he had witnessed it he was enraptured, goosebumps prickling up on the back of his neck, stomach flipping like he was witnessing something he had no right to. He probably didnât. Someone like you, someone so soft and supple - someone so perfect - his hands would taint you. Leave you ruined. No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much his body craved you, he just knew heâd break you.
(But maybe that was half of the reason he wanted you).
So, he just watches, like everyone else in your audience. Watches your pretty painted fingernails, the softness of your hands as you play with your own tits. Watching how the flesh indents under your fingers, knowing that they had to be even more supple than they looked. Imagining what it would be like to see them all marked up with splotches of red and purple from his teeth and tongue. Listened to your moans and imagined they were for him. Imagining that you were crying from stretching yourself around his cock, not your dildo or your fingers.
His fingers could give it to you better. And that toy you used? It was a dinky little thing. All of your followers knew it too. He could see them in the chat, begging you to take something bigger. Asking if you even could.
Toby knew you could. Could see it on your face when you sunk yourself down onto it. That little wrinkle of frustration in your brow. That thinly veiled want for more. For something real. How you rolled your hips deep, like you were imagining something bigger, something that could really fill you up. Something that would make those pretty tears you loved to spill genuine.
It was all on purpose, it had to be. To keep everyone begging. Hoards of men just like him joining your livestreams day after day, just to see if this was the night you finally stretched yourself out good. It never was, and thatâs why you were so popular - because you were a fucking tease. And anticipation is one of the best motivators.
That was true for Toby as well, even if he knew better.
He found himself joining your lives every single night. Right when they started, when you were still (mostly) clothed. Every night the outfit differed, and yet every night you still made his mouth water - his hand flying to the bulge in his jeans before you even took your top off.
Lace, silk, satin. Sheer little dresses, crop tops and thigh highs. Boyshorts on nights when you wanted to feel comfier, crotchless panties when you were really putting on a show. Garters on your legs that heâd imagine peeling off with his own teeth. The common denominator between all of your clothes was that they looked expensive, and it didnât take long to figure out why.
You talked to people in your chat often, addressed them by name, and batted your pretty eyelashes at them through the webcam. It didnât take long for Toby to realize that youâd do the same for him, if he just tossed you a bit of cash. Youâd do anything for the right price, it seemed. He had seen it for himself when you edged yourself for nearly two whole hours, just because a donator had tossed you a grand and told you not to cum. It was crazy to think about, throwing money at this girl just so that she toyed with her own body while you were sat miles away - unsatiated with fingers itching to touch her.
It was humiliating that he started considering it.
It was downright pathetic when he actually did it.
He just couldnât take it anymore, listening to you moan out all of these other names from those sweet lips of yours. It felt like a crime. Like some exclusive club, he was being locked out of behind a paywall. And though he had came to the sight of you multiple times already, he just knew that hearing you speak to him would buckle him. Heâd be hearing it ringing in his ears for weeks, and he wanted that. Needed that.
So he caves.
Proxies normally deal in cash, but Toby was well versed in pickpocketing - so it only took one or two trips into the city before he was walking home with a pretty hefty wallet snagged from the pocket of a businessman. Loaded with credit cards of all different varieties, but he knew that it would only be a short time until his victim realized the damage and locked all of them. So, as soon as he gets home, heâs ripping one out of the leather and typing the details into the account he had made on the website. Your website, as far as he was concerned.
And he knew that it wouldnât take long for his little spending spree to end, but that didnât matter. He could always swipe another card from some other brain-dead drone.
It would be worth it every time. He knew it the moment you spoke to him for the first time.
âOh, thatâs a new name. Welcome to the show, Toby. What can I do for yaâ?â
His name sounded like gospel coming from your lips. It wasnât anything special, just four simple letters, and yet they sounded like a prayer. Had Toby hanging onto every syllable. His mouth damn near salivating as he watched the way your lips formed around it, lungs feeling tight as all of the air left them in a shuddering exhale. You were looking right at him when you said it, eyes glinting like you knew exactly what effect your voice would have.
(Of course you did. It was your job to be a temptress, after all.)
He remembered hesitating. Remembered how his body had broken into a fit of trembles and twitches as you eyed the chat expectantly. Waiting for him. For him. He remembered all the blood rushing down to his cock so quickly it made him feel lightheaded. Vision going a little blurry, but you were still in crisp focus. A vignette surrounding the object of his desire. Everything else, wiped away, because nothing else mattered. Not as much as you did.
âTake your top off?â He felt silly - embarrassed - typing the words out, felt his gut twist when he hit send, even though other people had asked much worse of you. But, they had also paid more.
âTake my top off?â You had giggled softly, your lips curling into an amused little grin. Like you knew. Like you could feel his nerves radiating through your screen. And he watched as your hands slid down your body, all smooth and slow, dragging it out just to make him sweat. Directing his gaze to your each and every curve, eyes widening in anticipation when they slipped behind your back - undoing the pretty bow that kept your halter top fastened without even so much as a hitch. So easily. Staring right into your webcam when the fabric fell down into your lap.
Braless, of course you were. You always were. Giving him an eyeful of your bare tits just because he had asked. They just sat so pretty. So perfect. So soft when you reached up to toy with them. Kneading them gently, letting out a little gasp like they were just buzzing with sensitivity. Was it for show, or were you really just that easy to rile up? He was banking on the latter when he slipped a hand into his boxers.
He let out a hiss through his teeth, barely even aware of how hard he actually was before he got a hand curled around the base of his cock. Pulsing against his palm, skin taut, precum dribbling down onto his fingers when he gave it a teasing squeeze. Eyes glazed over as he watched you, committing the colour of your nail polish to memory when you gave your already perked up nipples a little pinch. A wicked shudder going down his spine as your lips part for a moan.
âThis what you wanted, Toby?â His whole body jolted when you spoke his name again, his cock twitching against his palm as his movements grew more and more eager. Shoving the waistband of his jeans down like they had offended him, giving himself more breathing room for more desperate flicks of his wrist. âWanted to see my tits, baby?â He whines, face scrunched up in pleasure - eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes pinched closed. He wasnât even watching anymore, but he didnât even need to. That sweet voice of yours was all he needed. âBet youâre wishinâ these were your hands, huh?â
âYes- F-Fuck-â He gasped out into the empty air of his bedroom. Like you could hear him, like you gave a fuck. Like you viewed him as something more than just another sap you could squeeze dry.
His ears were ringing, hips bucking into every pathetic movement he made. The sound of that obscene âschlick, schlickâ filling the air of his empty bedroom between his huffed out gasps and groans, boarded by your voice through the speakers of his laptop - downright taunting him. âYouâve gone quiet, baby. Hands too busy?â
It was humiliating, so much so that part of him wanted to fly back to the chat and give you an earful. But the other part - the more prominent part - was in, far too deep. Your voice made him hot, even through the taunts. So much so that he can feel sweat soaking his clothes, his t-shirt clinging to the curves of his back. Beads of it rolling down his forehead. Burning up, pumping his cock faster and faster, not sure if he was working towards or trying to fend off his release.
You made the decision for him.
âGreat first impression. Go on and cum for me, Toby. Bet youâre close.â He saw stars, cumming so abruptly like you knew the whereabouts of some hidden switch within him. So sudden, it knocks the wind out of him and makes his vision whiteout. Groaning shamelessly into the air, not a care in the world that someone might hear him as he just barely registers the feeling of his cum splattering against the front of his t-shirt. He was practically choking for air, thighs trembling like a leaf in the wind. Keeping his strokes steady until the overstimulation was making his gut clench, milking out every ounce of pleasure as if he just couldnât bear to let it fizzle out.
Chest heaving when he slumps back against his sheets, so dazed he couldnât even be bothered to clean himself off and tuck his cock back into his boxers. You had moved on already, while he was struggling to piece himself back together, already chatting away with someone else who had offered you more.
He didnât care. He could barely even hear you. His ears were ringing with the sound of your voice. Replaying it over and over like a broken record. His mind right then was a void that only you inhabited, the sole ruler in his kingdoms of thoughts. Looping a lasso around his rationality and pulling it taut - choking him out with the intensity of his desire.
And it stayed that way. From a regular viewer to an avid patron. Throwing you every dollar he could get his hands on. That initial apprehension fading away, asking you for more and more and more. Getting lewder, more vulgar in his requests of you, and yet you took them all in stride. Just so long as he had the money to back up his words.
He did. He always did. He made sure of it.
âWanna see you stretch that pussy open, babyâ. Fifty dollars.
âLook how wet you are⌠Better lick those fingers clean.â Seventy.
âHow about you moan my name when you cum? Iâve been good to you, havenât I?â Two hundred.
You did it all. Like his own personal doll. A marionette that he pulled the strings for, hanging onto his each and every wish. He couldnât help but feel special, important to you. Someone who you actually enjoyed talking to, obeying.
It was hard to keep his ego in check. Even harder when it started to seem like he might not be too far off with his fantasies.
You started greeting him sweetly every time you saw this name pop up in the chat. Murmuring out a little âThere you are, Toby. Missed you.â Before he even sent you a dollar. Your smiles looked more genuine, giggles sounded more real. The icing on the cake was the blush that would warm your cheeks as your eyes scanned across his request for the night.
You liked him. You had to. Why else would you start catering to him? It was just barely noticeable, but it was enough for Toby to pick up on. The subtle changes in demeanour, the sparkle in your eye when you saw him join your live. He couldnât help but poke and prod, see just how far youâd go - proof that you were his girl, and that everyone else were just afterthoughts.
âCute set.â He had commented one night, eyeing the scene of you sprawled out on your bed - clad in a sheer black bodysuit, nothing but a pair of pasties and a skimpy little g-string to cover all the good bits. âI like you better in red though.â
You hadnât acknowledged it, but he knew that you saw the message. He had seen the way your lips quirked up a bit, eyes glinting with something downright dangerous.
The next night, you were wearing a deep scarlet lingerie set.
You hadnât said it was for him, but you didnât need to. Even as you went on with the show as normal, giggling and flirting with the crowd you always accumulated - the clothes on your body were a statement.
His words mattered to you. It hadnât even been a formal request with a payment attached to it. Just a little offhand comment, something he was hoping would sink under your skin - and it did. Because maybe, you liked pleasing him just as much as he liked watching you.
Maybe, when you were trembling and gasping as you played with your clit, you were imagining it was his fingers instead. Maybe you had already conjured up some idea of what he looked like - what you hoped he looked like - and thatâs what you pictured as you drew yourself closer and closer to your release. Whatever you were picturing, he was sure it was far from the truth.
After all, whoâs ideal lover has a hole ripped straight through their cheek? Not many, that was for sure. But that was alright, he was sure youâd warm up to it eventually. Heâd just have to show you that he could treat you better than your wildest dreams. That he could keep you happy, smiling, and sated. So overwhelmed by his devotion towards you that you wouldnât even bat an eye at his more horrific attributes. Maybe, you wouldnât even mind it if he told you exactly what he did as a profession.
Maybe he wouldnât even let you.
It was hard to stay⌠Normal, about you. He knew that there was a barrier between the two of you, that you could never be what he wanted you to be for him. You could never be his, truly. And yet, he found himself fantasizing that you could be. Daydreams turning into reality quicker than he could reel them in, his pupils turning into little hearts every time he clicked on your livestreams. The pounding in his chest and the throbbing in his jeans, only increasing tenfold every time you acknowledged him.
His eyes, dancing across the curve of your smile, mind racing with the thought of what you tasted like. Your lips were always so glossy, but what was the flavour? Cherry? Strawberry? And your skin, so soft, glistening under the lights above you - it was soft, and he knew it, he could practically already picture what it would feel like to sink his teeth into it. Could conjure up the sounds youâd make. Just like you did on camera, but softer, sweeter - more genuine. Only for him, no one else would know what you sounded like when you were actually into it.
He dreamt about you, night after night. Daydreamed about you, when he was out on missions. Slicing through the flesh of yet another victim, but he was barely even registering it. Moving on autopilot, his mind rotted like a cavity from your sweetness.
He knew it would only get worse and worse, unless he did something about it.
Unless he actually had you.
It was easy to find your whereabouts. Reconnaissance missions were a walk in the park for him, and tracking down someone's location was something he was well versed in. It was his job, after all, just as stringing him along was yours.
Maybe, you shouldâve been more careful.
It only took a few swipes through your social media profiles until he was able to figure out where you were located. You probably hadnât even realized how careless you had been, but you had basically left a breadcrumb trail leading him towards you. Oblivious to the landmarks you left in the backgrounds of your photos outdoors, smiling sweetly in every single one - none the wiser that you had practically doxxed yourself in the eyes of someone like him.
He knew what state you lived in. Your favourite grocery stores, and clubs. From there, it wasnât difficult to figure out what city you lived in. What specific district.
And you had no idea, going on with your life like normal, posting live after life and greeting him sweetly every single time - oblivious to the fact that he was planning a trip to come see you. To come feel you. To show you that, betting on him, wasnât a mistake. That out of every single man in your chat, there was only one who could treat you the way you deserved. Only one who knew how to.
Him, obviously.
It took a few weeks for him to figure out how to get out there. Desperate for you, and yet still bound by his ties to Slender. He couldnât just leave, and he knew that. He needed to be close by and ready, on call for whatever gruesome task was offered up to him. But, missions out of state were common, and he knew that, so he just had to sit and wait. Had to keep joining your lives and buttering you up, getting you all primed and ready for when he finally met you.
It wasnât even a thought that you might not be happy to see him. You had to be. You liked him, laughed at his jokes, abided to his every wish. You were his, and you were just waiting for him to come and get you.
When a mission is finally offered up in your state, he nearly bursts into tears from relief. It had taken a while - nearly two whole months, and he had been jittery and anxiety ridden the entire time. Driven to the point of pacing around his room as your stream played in the background, damn near close to creating a pin board dedicated just to you, complete with red string and everything. He needed you. Needed you so badly it made his skin crawl, his desire an itch that festered under his skin, only able to be soothed by you and your touch.
Viewing you wasnât enough anymore. And honestly? It never had been. He had known from the start - from the very first click - that heâd never be content just watching you through the screen of his laptop. He needed to feel the goosebumps pebble your skin, needed to smell your arousal as you just grew wetter and wetter, needed to hear the way your voice cracked on a moan - right up close and personal.
He needed you. All of you. Skin to skin with him, like you were made to be.
The mission in your city goes off without a hitch, like it always does. He was good at his job, efficient, but maybe he flubbed the truth a little when Tim contacted him via flip phone to ask for progress. Maybe, he said that the victim was tricky, always hanging around too many crowds to find them alone.
That wasnât true, of course, he had slaughtered them like a cow on the first night there. Wiped the blood from his skin and buried them in a ditch within a matter of hours. But they werenât his prime order of business, they had always been an afterthought. Just a scapegoat to get here.
You were the real prize. You had been from the very beginning.
And it was almost as if you wanted him to find you, because you were so stupidly easy to track down. One night hanging around your favourite bar, and he had you in his sights. Dressed up so pretty - sheer black tights ripped at the knees, a little black dress that showed off your each and every curve. Hair done up into a loose bun, picture-perfect eyeliner and glitter on your cheeks. Not even sending him a passing glance as he leaned up against the brick wall outside and lit up a smoke. Laughing along with the rest of your friends as they dragged you into the building. So blissfully ignorant, it almost made him feel bad for taking advantage - almost.
It wasnât his fault that you were so easy. It wasnât his fault that you had invited him into your life so easily.
You were lucky he was a patient man, because he waited. Waited, and waited, and waited. Waited until the sun began to peek over the horizon again, a ghost of pink from the approaching dawn bleeding into the inky black night sky. You had waited until last call until you were stumbling out of the establishment - alone. He didnât mind. Had gone through a whole pack of cigs while he waited for you to have fun, but it was a necessary loss for what he was rewarded with.
You, all flushed and beautiful. Messy and uninhibited. Too drunk to even call a taxi so you just lazily kick your heels off and stagger on home. He followed you down every single block. Didnât even need to be all too discreet about it, because you were too fucked out of your own mind that you didnât even notice him trailing behind you.
So easy. Almost as if you did know he was there, and you were just welcoming him right in.
You lived in a quaint little apartment, a shitty little bachelor pad that he honestly wouldnât have expected. With the money you pull from the pockets of desperate men like him, heâd expect you to live in something much more grand. Something much more fitting for a princess like you. But, he supposed it did also make sense - all those pretty garments you dressed yourself up in, and all those toys you played with, he knew that they couldnât be cheap. Taking all that cash and feeding it right back into the machine, making sure that you stayed being the perfect fantasy.
You were number one on the charts, after all, and had been for a while. He was sure that wasnât exactly an easy task to maintain. He watched how you fumbled for your keys, your movements clumsily and unstable - trying one, two times before you actually got the key in the slot. So messy, it was honestly a miracle that someone just like him hadnât found you and tugged you away on your precarious walk home.
You didnât really have to worry about any of that, though, he had been ready for it. The two hatchets hanging from his belt had just been itching to spill blood if anyone had tried anything with his girl.
His girl.
Watching his girl stumble into her home. Peering through your window as you tripped through the living room, tossing your heels onto the floor without a second thought. You left your blinds open (of course you did) and you were too wasted to even think about drawing them closed. So perfect. So willing. Just letting him get an eyeful as you unzipped the back of your dress and made a beeline towards your kitchen for a glass of water from the tap of your sink.
Just a hint of bare skin, and yet it wouldâve sated him. Near drooling over the curve of your shoulder blades as he felt his pants tighten, breathing going shaky at the sight. You looked even softer in person, even more delicate. All smooth lines and soft curves, not even a single blemish marring your perfect skin. The direct opposite of him, and all the scarring that speckled him.
But then, you just had to go and give him more. Like it was his own personal show, his eyes widened when you shrugged the straps of your dress off after taking a hearty gulp of water. Just letting it fall down your body like water dripping off of your skin - so uninhibited and uncaring, letting it drop to the ground without a second thought. More and more skin for him to rave over, just sending more and more blood straight down to his cock.
You were perfect, he was sure of it. Even better when you werenât acting. All light and loose, so pretty and oblivious as you reached down to adjust your thong. A pretty little number you were dressed up in, all lace and silky fabric, it was almost a shame that somebody hadnât taken you home.
But then again, if they had, he wouldnât be able to stand here, witnessing it all for himself. The relaxed curve of your stomach, just letting your body be free because no one was watching for once. The way your bra cupped your tits so perfectly, how your thighs jiggled a little when you walked. You were a goddess to him, so much so that when you walked off to your bedroom, he was following you right to it. Rounding the outside of your house, his body feeling hot and jittery as he creeped towards your bedroom window.
Your bedroom window, where the curtains were also undrawn. God, you were just inviting him to look, werenât you? Could you even blame him, when he snaked a hand down towards the bulge in his jeans? Cupping it, so achingly hard just from watching you, though that wasnât much of a surprise. He had been getting off to just watching you for months now. But this time it was different, because you didnât know.
You didnât know he was unbuckling his belt as you unclasped your bra. Didnât know he was sliding a hand into his boxers when you reached up to massage your tits, a little - aching from being compacted into your bra all day. So beautifully ignorant as he stroked himself nice and slow, trying to keep his groans to a minimum as his eyes stayed locked on your form.
On the way your ass moved when you walked over to your closet, how the fabric of your panties hugged your cunt when you bent over to grab an old T-shirt from your bottom drawer. There was no mystery, he knew exactly what you looked like under those clothes, had memorized it a million times over.
But this time, his prying eyes were unwelcome, and thatâs what was really getting him going more. Leaning his shoulder against the brick of the outside wall, he was gasping into the night air, cock throbbing against his palm as he watched how your skin stretched when you pulled the loose fabric over your body. Somehow, you looked even better this way than all dolled up. Just you, your bare legs, and some old faded band tee - nipples perked up so beautifully under the fabric from the air conditioning in your apartment.
You reached up to pull the elastic from your hair as heâs squeezing the base of his cock, trying to make this last even as precum dribbles down onto his knuckles. So wet and slick, so ready for you, if only you were ready to take it. Your hair falls loose, and heâs hissing through his teeth, hips stuttering into his own grip as he watches the way it cascades over your neck. So soft and silky, he could almost picture what it would feel like sliding between the gaps of his fingers. What noises he could pull out of you, just from curling his fingers into a fist and gripping it just a little too tight.
He doesnât even realize heâs panting until the inside of his mask gets so hot and stuffy it feels like it's going to suffocate him. With his free hand, he hurriedly unclasps it and yanks it off of his face - letting his gasps and stifled groans ring out into the night air. Heâs trying to be quiet, he really is, but he doesnât think heâs been more worked up in his entire life. So sensitive that every downstroke makes his hips twitch and his stomach twist, that familiar coil of white-hot burning heat swirling low in his gut. Leaking onto his fingers, the sound of it was almost even louder than his moans were - so filthy, all for you. Because of you. And you didnât even know it.
You just scampered over to your vanity like normal, pulling out a packet of makeup wipes from out of the drawer to wash off the night.
That was what got him. He had never seen you barefaced, not once. You were always so prim and perfect. Concealer covering up every blemish, false eyelashes glued on top of your real ones. Lip gloss and lipstick, blush and contour. Meticulously done up to be the woman from his dreams. But seeing you without it? Oh, he didnât know it was possible for you to get more gorgeous, and yet you just seemed to outdo yourself time after time again.
He liked the sight of the moles and freckles on your face that you covered up day after day. Liked your natural lashes, and the dark circles under your eyes that you hid away with concealer. Your skin wasnât perfect, donning a few pimples and acne scarring from years before - but that was the best part. It wasnât perfect, it was real. You were real.
The sight of you barefaced and beautiful in front of your mirror, body just barely hidden under an old t-shirt - thatâs what really drove the point home. You werenât just some girl on a screen. You were living and breathing just like he was. He could see the tired droop of your eyes, the slight sway of your body from the lingering liquor still swimming in your veins. You reach up lazily under your shirt and scratch an itch under your tits while letting out a sleepy little sniffle, and he could just die right then and there. You were so tangible.
Online, you were a doll he could dress up and play with to his heart's content, but here - you were just a tired, messy girl. A real woman. Someone he could so easily reach out and take.
His orgasm takes him by surprise. He had been trying to fend it off, trying to make this really last because the sight of you so relaxed and free was downright intoxicating - but then you lean forwards in your seat. Your t-shirt rides up a bit, giving him a nice cheeky glimpse of the curve of your ass, the way your panties hugged your curves so deliciously, and he was done for. You didnât even know how provocative you were being, you werenât even trying. That was the best part.
He has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip when the pleasure crests and pulls him under, biting hard enough to make himself bleed as he takes in ragged gasps of breath through his nose. His whole body breaking into a fit of shakes, hips twitching and jerking with each rope of cum he pumped out. It sullied the grass beneath his feet and dirtied his knuckles, so much of it - like his body could feel his close proximity to you and adjusted his hormones accordingly.
His body slumps, heavyweight leaning up against the outside wall of your home as stars dance behind his eyes. Lips finally parting to take in a few heaving breaths as his head spins. His whole body, so loose and weighted at the same time, it's no surprise when his knees buckle beneath him - thighs shaking as he slides down the wall until heâs seated on his ass. His softening cock still half out of his jeans, his badly aimed load already going crusty against the fabric.
His jaw clenches, and then his neck is cracking to the side. Eyes squeezing shut when it happens again, then again. Letting out a strained little grunt when his shoulders jerk, one hand flying down to curl into the grass below him as his joints twitch and spasm. So overwhelmed, it was like his entire body was going into overdrive, like he was trying to crawl out of his own skin just to get to you quicker. It's humiliating, sitting there like a madman, his shoulders seized up close to his ears as he struggles to wipe his dirtied hand off on the blades of grass below him. Knowing that youâre just one wall away, that you could look out your window any second now, and see the pathetic mess of a man trying to piece himself back together right below your windowsill.
That wasnât what he wanted. He didnât want your first impression of him to be that he was just some creep. He wasnât. He was just devoted to you in ways you could never imagine. The sight of you made his heart seize up and stutter, the sound of your voice had his lungs squeezing so tight that all his air was leaving them in a wheezing gasp. You made him itch. Made him ache. Like you were some sort of infestation, slowly but surely rotting him from the inside out. Youâd never get it. Not unless he told you, showed you. Not unless you felt it for yourself.
Naturally, he sticks around. Of course, one night spying on you wouldnât have been enough. It didnât satiate the craving, it only fed it. And so, he was making up excuses to Tim on the phone - telling him day after day that the target was tricky, slippery, to not come pick him up yet because he wasnât finished. He sure as hell wasnât - he was only just getting started.
He grew accustomed to your routine over the next few days. Youâd wake up, brush your teeth, and watch a few episodes of some cheesy sitcom on your television while you sipped your morning coffee. Then, youâd wash your mug in the sink. The same mug, every day. It must be your favourite. After that, you were headed for the shower, to which you hid yourself from him for about twenty minutes every single day. Your bathroom didnât have windows (a shame), but even if it did, heâd assume your bare body was hidden behind a curtain. So, for that stretch of time every day heâs left leaning up against the side of your house, palming the bulge in his jeans as the image of you - all bare and glossy with water droplets - danced behind his eyelids.
He followed you to the store, to the bar, to your friendâs houses. You didnât seem to have a day job, but he supposed that wasnât entirely surprising - you probably got everything you needed just from donations. Hell, you could probably live comfortably just off of his contributions alone. You spent most of your days just lazing around, living off of the funds youâd pulled from your hoard of fans - sometimes taking day trips to the cafĂŠ near your house, or to the mall to buy some new exquisite number to add to your repertoire.
The night was when you really came alive, though.
You didnât stop doing shows, just because he had gone radio silent. Of course not, it was your job, after all - you couldnât take a day or two off simply to wait for him. But he would swear that he could see it in your eyes as he watched through the window. You were disappointed, every time you failed to see his name pop into your chat, crestfallen at his absence. Going on as usual, keeping the act up, but he could tell.
You missed him.
If only you knew that he was still watching, just up close and personal this time.
And god, was it better. So close, he could just burst through your window and touch you if he had a little less self-restraint. The camera really didnât do it justice - up close, you were a dream. The most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on, with the prettiest pussy to match. Absolutely dripping with slick when you sank your fingers in two knuckles deep, stretching yourself out nice and proper - but not as well as he could.
His patience weaned quickly. He could only spend so many nights watching you try every trick in the book to make yourself cum. Desperately tweaking your nipples as you rode your favourite dildo into the mattress, that ever present pinch in your brow - frustration, need. You needed him. He could have you falling apart in mere minutes, he was just sure of it. Heâd bet youâd never touch a toy again, after he finally had his way with you.
You were just laying in wait, your entire body coaxing him forwards and feeding into his delusions.
You couldnât call yourself innocent, when you were just reeling him in like this. He was sure that if he took a peek into your thoughts, heâd find that you were thinking of him just as he was thinking of you. Craving him. This man you didnât even have a face to match the name for, and yet he had buttered you up so good that you were imagining him to be exactly what you needed to soothe the ache in your gut, the throbbing in your panties.
He could be the cure to the never ending lust that consumed you. He just had to show you.
-
Youâre out with friends when he first sneaks in. Finding out that your window was unlocked the entire time had sent a thrill straight down to his bones. Knowing that it's just been that easy this entire time. That he couldâve had you whenever he wanted, that you had just been offering yourself up like a lamb to the slaughter.
Maybe⌠Did you know that he was here? That he had come all this way just for you? Were you inviting him in? Welcoming him?
It sure felt like it, when he first stepped foot into your bedroom. Dirtied boots hitting the soft carpeted flooring, contorting his body to squeeze through your window until he was fully inside. Shutting it behind him like it mattered at all.
He had taken a moment to just appreciate it all, to just breathe you in. The scent of you was everywhere - clinging to your walls, your clothes, your sheets. The sweet floral scent of your perfume, bordered by your natural musk. The smell of you. The smell that seeped out of your pores on a day-to-day basis. He wanted it all over him. Wanted to bottle it up and guzzle it down. He wanted to inject it into his veins, for fuckâs sake. Let you circulate throughout his entire body and make a home in his heart, keeping you there for as long as youâd let him.
Heâs sinking into your sheets before he can even think twice about it. It feels like sinking into the fluffy clouds at the entrance of heaven itself.
Sheets so soft and silky, drenched in the scent of you. The smell of laundry detergent is just barely noticeable, it mustâve been a few days since you last washed them - and god, if he isnât grateful for that fact. It was like a gift for all of his efforts. Sweet, floral perfume, cut through by the undertones of your natural scent. He could smell your sweat, your essence, the lingering film of shampoo that had smeared against your pillowcase.
It was you. You had been here. You slept here. Touched yourself here, time and time again.
A shaky moan rumbles from his chest as he buried his nose into your pillow, his eyes pinched shut as drool pools in the corners of his mouth. Not wearing his mask, and not bandaged up, it seeps out of the gash in his cheek and stains the fabric beneath him, but he doesnât care. Canât care, not when the mere scent of you was turning his brain into mush.
His hands scramble to grab purchase of anything they can. They find your blanket, which he bunches up and immediately drags over to his nose. Inhaling lungful after lungful of that glorious smell, his breathing growing more and more shaky as the seconds ticked by.
Toby felt like his entire body was on fire. Every single nerve in his body set alight as he writhed against your sheets, drinking you in, moaning on every exhale like just the scent of you alone had sent him into heat. It sure felt like you did, with the way his skin was itching beneath his clothes - sweat beading up on his brow and leaving a slick film against his body.
He couldnât even bring himself to kick his boots off. Crawling further into your little private sanctuary, the tread of his boots smears mud against your delicate sheets - sullying them, leaving his mark. Heâs too far past rationality to even notice. âF-Fuck-â He chokes out into the empty air, his voice raw and strained - the soft curse clawing its way out of his throat as his crudely bandaged fingers grip your blanket like a vice. With his eyes closed, and his nose stuffed full of you, it was easy to imagine that he was clinging onto your body instead. Burying his nose in your neck, getting to drink in this scent straight from the source.
His hands slip through the sheets, hips twitching against the mattress subconsciously. Drool pooling in his mouth and dribbling out of the gash in his cheek to stain your satin pillowcase.
Heâs never felt more filthy in his entire life. Not when stained with blood, not with skin caked in mud and grime - but now. Smearing the raw essence of himself against the sweetness of your personal space. Taking something so pure and tainting it, leaving a mess of mud, sweat, and spit against the sheets you were probably aching to sink into after a long day.
It was no secret that his time was limited. That this little stolen moment of depraved bliss could be cut short on a momentâs notice. He knew that you were out with friends, but for how long? Long enough for him to bask in your sanctuary for enough to make the itch under his skin finally cease? Long enough for him to press his face into your pillow and moan your name out like itâs gospel, lungs tight with the need to have your hands on his skin?
Long enough for him to come up with a good enough explanation for why heâs here? A reason that wouldnât scare you off?
Because that was the last thing he wanted to do.
He knew you had an image of who he was, and how he acted in your mind. Probably some handsome man loaded with money, that didnât bat an eye at sending you thousands of dollars on a whim. Not⌠This. Some panting, twitching mess on your bed, minutes away from soiling his boxers just from huffing the scent of your shampoo.
Toby wasnât so far removed that he wasnât aware of how this must look for him. How it would look to you if you stumbled upon him. Youâd probably be halfway through a frantic conversation with the cops before he could even get a word out.
He was so far removed that he didnât care.
He was weighted by the force of his desire, head too clouded to even think about pulling himself away and cleaning up the mess he had made.
Besides, even if he did leave before you got home, he was rather keen to leave evidence of his presence.
He wanted you to know he had been there.
He wanted you to know that it was him. That he did it. He ended up exactly where he was supposed to be this entire time - in your bed.
You could be terrified, or repulsed, but Toby knew youâd come around eventually if he just talked you through it. You liked him, after all.
You wouldnât have worn that lingerie for him if you didnât.
He liked to think that you had just been waiting for him this whole time. Yearning for him every time you looked through your chat and didnât find his name. Hoping that he would come find you - and he did.
Ideally, the shock of his presence in your home would just be a little hurdle to step over. Something that would quickly fizzle out once the excitement of him needing you just as badly came to fruition. Like a hit off of a cigarette - just a slight burn before that warm gooey feeling took over your veins.
He hoped that youâd be just as easy as you portrayed yourself to be. Just falling right into his arms, because you knew just as well as he did that he was exactly what you had been needing this entire time.
And if you were difficult? Well⌠He could work with that too, but he was really hoping that youâd be receptive.
He wanted to love you, not scare you.
And maybe, he couldâve done this in a better - safer - way. Wriggle his way into your life like he was always meant to be there. Slip into the club you like on one of the nights you were there, chat you up, let you lead him home, cook you breakfast in the morning. Show you, right off the bat, that he had always been the missing piece. Care for you. Love you. Show you what you deserve.
Make you fall for him, like he did for you, never knowing how deep his affection - obsession- ran.
Get you so ensnared, that if you ever found out about the blood that stained his hands, you wouldnât even bat an eye, because you loved him and you knew that side of him didnât make up who he was fully.
You had too sweet of a heart not to accept him. Maybe, youâd even let him take you back home with him.
But, that best case scenario would only play out in his fantasies, and maybe he shouldâve known that. He had been on a streak of good luck when it came to you, for so long that it was starting to grow suspicious. The attention, the naivety, the ignorance. Easy to track down, a sense of security, and unlocked windows. It had been far too simple, up until now. If it kept on this way, Toby wouldâve started to think there was some sort of higher power on his side - overseeing and endorsing all of his misdeeds.
Of course, though, that couldnât be the case.
If there was a god, they were simply setting him up. Letting him climb higher and higher until he inevitably fell flat on his face.
Good thing he was well versed in just âwalking it offâ.
The sound of your front door unlocking hits Tobyâs eardrums like a shockwave. The telltale jingle of your keys makes his eyes snap open almost alarmingly quickly.
He knew it was a possibility, but he had been banking on the fact that it just wouldnât happen. That, against all odds, youâd come home long after he had disappeared again. But he had been selfish - greedy - overstayed his welcome because he couldnât fathom the idea of tearing himself away from the things youâd touched. It was the closest he could come to have you draped over him, and to peel himself away from that - it felt like leaving a limb behind.
He couldâve played it safe. Couldâve just snagged a few items of your clothing to satiate the urge whilst still keeping his anonymity for a bit longer. Do it properly. Respectfully.
Instead though, he overindulged, and now he was here - frozen in your sheets with his pulse going overdrive, and a throbbing in his jeans.
Now, he was left with a few options.
The most logical one would be to hightail it out of here. To slip back out your window, go back home, and let you panic by yourself once you found his boot prints stained into your carpet.
Or⌠He could stay. Finally meet you face to face.
For someone as far gone as he already was, the choice was a clear one to make - the idea of leaving was quickly thrown to the wind. To come this far and not be met with a prize for his efforts? It almost felt unthinkable.
So, he waited. Sat up, scooted towards the end of your bed, and sat there - shaking hands folded in his lap like a boy waiting for his first date. Still red in the face, still twitching and jerking because the excitement coursing through his veins was turning his tics up to eleven. Anxiously tapping his foot against the floor, ears perked to listen for every little sound you made as you moved around your house
Nervous. Giddy. Already thinking of exactly what he was going to say to you when the two of you met eyes. Hopeful, that you wouldnât run off. Piecing together a game plan for if you did.
Footsteps down the hallway make Tobyâs heart rate jump, his eyes widening a little in anticipation as he listened to you draw nearer and nearer. God, he could only imagine what you were going to look like when you finally cracked your bedroom door open. He'd bet the look of shock on your face would be sweet enough to give him a toothache.
A soft clearing of your throat outside the door. A creak as the hinges swing open. Then;
You notice him immediately - unsurprisingly. In the soft, clean atmosphere of your room, Toby stuck out like a wine stain on white fabric. An outlier so jarring that your breath stops halfway in your chest, your entire body locking up in a mixture of fear and shock. Paralyzed in the doorway, wide eyes locked on the man sat on your bed. The stranger in your space. Sitting there, like he had every single right to be there.
There's a stretch of silence where neither of you say anything. Where neither of you move. You blink a few times, like youâre half-convinced youâre hallucinating him - still stuck in a shock-induced stupor with your fingers curled right around the handle of your door. But then, he lifts a hand, gives you a lazy little wave - and the idea that this might just be a fucked up mirage your brain was casting is shattered.
This was real. He was real. The mud stains on your carpet proved it, just as much as the slow smile his lips stretch into.
That realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and Toby watches it happen.
You jolt, jumping back about a foot into the hallway, a panicked tremor making its way through your entire body until every limb was shaking. He could hear your breathing from where he sat - short, sharp breaths that just bordered on hyperventilation. Your eyes water, a half-choked sound somewhere between a yelp and a scream breaking on its way out of your lungs.
You looked about two seconds from just passing right out.
God, you were pretty.
âW-Was hoping you wouldnât be scared.â Toby murmurs softly, pushing himself up and off the bed. He doesnât step closer - not yet - just stands there with his hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side a little as he observes you. You watch as his eyes trail down - from your face, across your abdomen, down your legs, then back up again. Not even trying to hide it. âYouâre e-even cuter in person, you know.â
âWhat the fuck-â Toby can practically taste the fear in the air when you breathe those words out, soft and shaky. Your entire body is coiled tight like a spring about to snap, probably warring between booking it to the nearest telephone, or staying to see what he wants out of morbid curiosity.
If you were actually a victim, youâd be the type to give him ample time to move in close. Heâs thankful for that fact. Itâs always easier to deal with the ones who freeze, over the ones who run.
âYou-You know who I am?â Toby asks, trying to keep his voice measured. Itâs difficult, with the excitement coursing through his veins, and the slight giddy tremor to his words betrays that.
He takes a step closer, you back up one. He snorts out a soft laugh in response. Maybe you were smarter than he thought. Maybe you knew that bolting away would never actually bode well for you.
âWhat? No.â You squeak out, like a little mouse - cowering as Toby takes a step closer, then another. You match each one, stepping back every time he advances on you, but his strides are longer. His ambitions are stronger. Heâs calm on the surface, that buried down glee just barely poking through with each erratic jerk of his shoulders. But when you lock eyes, the look he gives you says it all.
âIf you run, Iâll catch youâ.
And youâre not quite sure that you want to test that.
âSure you d-do.â Toby chuckles softly, his lips curling into a smile that sends a shiver down your spine. The gash on his face stretches and twists with the movement, gnarled and grotesque - the sight making your stomach lurch. âS-Sure, you donât know me like this;â He gestures towards himself. âBut you kn-know me. Have for a-awhile now.â
âI think youâre mistaken.â You stammer out, voice hoarse. Your heart slams in your chest so wildly that you can hear it in your ears, your lungs feeling tight with each breath in. âListen, I donât know what you want, but-but I donât have cash or anything-â
âCash?â Toby barks out a laugh that makes you jump, your entire body tensing up even more. âYou think I-I want cash? G-God, no. Thatâs not h-how this works.â
He meets you at the doorway, tilting his head down to meet your frightened gaze. âI donât t-take money from you, I give it t-to you, remember?â
Your face twists, a mixture of confusion and dread mixing together on your features into something so delicious it only makes Tobyâs smile widen. Youâre precious. Clueless. Heâs almost tempted to just keep you this way, suspended in the unknown. Scared and clinging onto his every word; itâs a good look on you. âOh, c-câmon, donât act like you ha-havenât missed me. Iâve been keepinâ track. Watchinâ how s-sad you get when I donât pop in among the h-hoard of losers you accumulate.â
His hand stretches out, bandaged fingers curling around your wrist before you can even attempt to jerk away. You try to pry yourself free, his grip only gets tighter. âYou m-missed me, yeah?â He murmurs down to you, his voice low. âTired o-of pretending to like all of those other dumb ff-fucks?â His grip squeezes tighter, and you canât help but let out a soft whimper. You could practically see him preen at that sound. âYou p-put those shows on for me, I kn-know you do.â
You canât help but yelp when he tugs you in closer, stumbling over your own feet whilst trying to wrench your arm from his grip. Your eyes sting, tears welling up in the corners as your limbs shake. Every word heâs saying is barely even registering for you, just white noise to mix in with the ringing in your ears. That is, until; âKn-Knew you were mine the d-day you wore red for me.â
The worst are soft, but they have all the effect of a gunshot. You feel your legs get weak, eyes widening to a near painful degree as you finally snap your gaze up to meet his. You donât breathe for a solid five seconds, shivering like he had just dumped a bucket of ice water onto you.
It takes all of the effort in the world to choke out a response.
âToby?â
Itâs instant, the smile that spreads across Tobyâs face - a grin thatâs all teeth and sick satisfaction. His grip on you tightens just a little more, his fingers biting into the flesh of your wrist with a pressure that promises bruises. He just canât help it when a sharp, elated laugh leaves his lips - his eyes sparkling under the low light with some corrupted form of excitement.
âI kn-knew it!â He breathes out, hot breath fanning against your face when he ducks his head down just a little lower. âFuck, ha-had me thinking I was c-crazy for a second there. Looking f-for signs where there werenât any.â His gaze wanders over your face, his expression almost crazed in the way he regards you. Itâs then that you notice heâs trembling almost as bad as you are. âBut n-no, you did do it for me.â Another soft laugh. âYou like me, d-donât you?â
âWait-â You manage out, your voice trembling. âYou canât just-â Again, you try to wriggle your grip free - to no avail. âYou tracked me down?â
Tobyâs grin only stretches wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he yanks you in even closer to him. Just a hairâs width away from bumping straight into him. âL-Let go of me-â
âWhat? D-Did you think it would be hard to?â Toby snickers, before his head dips down lower - taking in a less than discreet whiff of your hair with a shiver trickling down his spine. âYou were s-so easy to find, baby. Almost like you wa-wanted me here.â
âThatâs not-â
âI think it is.â Tobyâs breath fans against your ear, before heâs leaning in just a bit closer - closing the gap between the two of you. He shudders when his nose presses against your jaw, his lips parting in a silent gasp. You were so warm. âIâm not s-stupid, you know. Youâve been n-needing me here. Youâve been n-needing more than the bullshit you f-fuck yourself with.â
His nose drags up your jaw, and his hands are greedy in the way they just keep tugging you in closer and closer. The one thatâs not gripping your wrist slides around to rest on the small of your back - keeping you all but pressed up against him. Right where you were supposed to be. âDonât know why you-youâre being shy about it. Youâve already given yourself to me, time and time again.â
The feel of your tremors under his palms sing to the tune of your fear, and Toby just soaks it up like a flower in the sunlight. Poor thing, acting like you hadnât danced your way into this situation. âWhat?â He murmurs against your skin. âD-Donât like me now that Iâm not throwing c-cash at your feet?â
âYou broke into my fucking house.â You hiss, flinching away from his touch. âYou stalked me.â
âAnd you encouraged me.â Toby hums, wrapping his arm fully around you. Heâs got you one-upped on both size and strength, so itâs an easy feat to keep you fit snugly against him. He just canât help it when his heart rate picks up, his mind buzzing with the feel of your soft curves pressed right up on him. Itâs a sensation he'd been craving for far too long, and now that itâs real? Itâs almost enough to make him drool. Heâs sure you can feel his heart hammering against your chest, just as he could feel yours against his. âY-You wouldnât have played along if you d-didnât want to meet me, right? You treated me different.â
He starts to back up, tugging you along with him even as you squirm - slow, controlled movements that show heâs playing the exact same role as he did when he interacted with you. A director. You were just his pretty little actress. âT-Treated me like you wanted me.â He murmurs. âLike the money d-didnât even matter.â
Your feet feel like lead as he drags you along, your eyes focused solely on his face as he speaks. On all of the features that detract from the blight on his cheek. Pale, freckled skin. Soft fluttering lashes, framing deep brown eyes. An almost boyish softness to his features, sharply contrasting the darkness swimming in his irises. He moved like a bottle rocket about to go off, his whole body tense and twitching even as his face stayed calm. It was just as jarring as it was intriguing. âYouâre just m-mad because of how I did it.â Your eyes drop down to his mouth. A split lip, chipped teeth, and stubble trickling down his jaw. âBut this is what you wanted eventually, r-right? Me, here?â
Toby finds your speechlessness endearing, his expression turning almost smug as he watches you drink in his features - like this was all playing out exactly how he had wanted it to. âJust say you th-thought about me. Donât gotta hide it.â
âItâs not as simple as that-â You mutter out, flinching when your toes bump against his. âYou were just⌠Different.â
âYeah?â Toby smiles down at you, his expression almost too sweet for the situation youâre in. His expression is almost soft, like your words had soothed something deep within him. âD-Different how?â
âJust⌠Different.â The revelation of who he was made you at least half hopeful that his intentions were less than violent - and that was what you were clinging on to as he slowly walked you back towards your bed, sheets already ruffled from his presence. âYou felt like⌠Like talking to a real person.â
âThatâs because I a-am.â Toby chuckles softly. âGot all the p-proof right here.â The backs of his knees hit the edge of your bed, and itâs just so easy to tug you right down with him when he sinks down into the sheets again - your thighs parting to straddle his, like your body knew its place. Your very cells just knew him, and gave way the moment he asked for a bit of lenience.
You were just as easy as he thought you would be. Part of him glowed at the idea, the other scoffed a bit at how little of a fight you put up. Good thing he was the one who found you first. âMânot gonna h-hurt you.â He hums up to you softly, gazing up at you through his lashes as you sit perched on his lap. âThat wasnât the p-plan here.â
âThen what was the plan?â Youâre not even sure why you even ask - you can tell the answer just from the heated look in his eyes. Just from the way his fingers tighten around you a little when they slip down to grip your waist. Getting bolder, now that he was pretty sure you werenât just going to up and bolt.
âWell, d-depends how nice youâre gonna be.â Toby murmurs lowly. âBut whatever r-route it takes to get there, itâs going to end the same way.â A quirk of his lips. âMe, showing you what youâve been m-missing.â
He leans in close, his lips brushing against your neck before he finally takes the plunge and closes the distance - stubble scraping against your skin as a precursor to the wet kiss he leaves against you. âYou-You know Iâm not blind. Youâve been needing more. Gettinâ tired of fucking yourself like some pathetic slut.â You feel his lips curl into a grin against your skin, and you shiver. âRight?â
âThatâs not-â You gasp when his teeth scrape, gathering up the essence of your skin that he licks into his mouth with a soft groan. You know that this isnât something you should indulge in - you shouldn't be rewarding him for completely disregarding every boundary you had put up. And yet⌠âIt wasn't an invitation.â
âWasnât it?â Toby laughs softly, his breath fanning hot against your collar bone. âCâmon⌠A-All that shit I paid you for? That was just the start of what I w-want to do to you.â His hands give you another soft squeeze, making your jaw clench as you try to bite back a soft noise. âAnd I came so f-far just to make it happen. Wonât you just let me? Doubt youâll re-regret it.â
âYou canât- You realize how fucked this is, right?â You breathe out, eyes fluttering. âYou had no right-â
âYeah, I did.â Toby cuts you off as he nuzzles into your hair. âAll the s-signs you gave me? I think my reaction was pretty rational.â One hand snakes up to slip into your hair, using it as leverage to tilt your head back - more access for his lips and tongue to roam. âUnless you wa-wanna fess up to leading me on.â
âThatâs my job-â You start, words quickly getting cut short when his teeth nip at the junction between your neck and shoulder. Already leaving marks - making sure you couldnât just go and forget about him, even if you pushed him away right here.
âI know that.â Toby hums. âBut the treatment you g-give me? Nah. Thatâs special t-treatment.â A jerk of his arm draws your hips in closer, pressing you right down against the bulge in his jeans you had been choosing to ignore up until now. You hated the butterflies that erupted in your gut at the contact. âSo now, I think Iâll reap the benefits.â His lips part, his tongue dragging up the length of your neck until his lips meet the lobe of your ear - lapping up each drop of your nervous sweat like it was liquor. âYouâll let me, w-wonât you?â
Itâs a demand in the disguise of a question. Youâre not quite sure if ânoâ is even an actual option, when his hands are keeping you in a grip you could only dream to wriggle out of. Your brain feels like mush when you try to mill the thought over, especially when his grip on your hips starts pushing you into a forced grind against him.
Heâs not entirely wrong. Maybe you had thought about him - your idea of him - once or twice (or many times) when you were playing with yourself. Maybe you did need something more than what you could give yourself.
And with the size of the bulge he was rocking your hips against? He might just be that.
A break-in couldâve definitely boded worse, right?
You donât say a word, no verbal confirmation - but the way you loosen up a little tells Toby all he could need. You stop pushing back against his touches, start relaxing under his rough touch. You finally let your lips part in a soft sigh, as opposed to swallowing all of the noises back.
You stop fighting it. You accept the truth Toby had known to be true this entire time. âThere we go.â He murmurs against your neck. âS-See? Youâre mine. No point in fighting it.â
His movements grow more and more greedy - his face pressed into the crook of your neck as his hands rock you against him. Huffing out hot, heavy breaths against your neck every time your clothed cunt presses down against his crotch. When his eyes flutter shut, he can practically feel the way you throb above him, even through the layers of fabric. Proof that you needed him just as much as he needed you. All he had to do was peel back the layers of fear and hesitance, get your head so fuzzy you didnât even think about the morality of it all. âFeel that?â He murmurs into your ear. âOnly ever g-get like this for you. Canât fuckinâ think.â
You can feel the hickeys bloom without even needing to see them as his lips travel down your neck - nipping and biting his way to your collarbone. Hellbent on leaving his mark wherever he can. âThought a-about it so many times - what youâd f-feel like.â A soft moan fans against your shoulder. âYouâre better than I e-ever imagined.â
He tugs you flush to him - one hand tangled in your hair, the other one keeping your hips pressed right against his. Never once letting that sinful friction let up. âSo fuckinâ soft.â Another wet kiss against your collarbone. âSo fuckinâ sweet.â
âToby-â You murmur softly, your eyebrows scrunching together as your hips grind slow against his - the sweetest form of torture, making your gut twist with a mixture of pleasure and shame.
âSound so g-good saying my name.â He hums back to you. âLike some k-kinda angel.â His hips buck up to meet yours, stealing a gasp from your lungs. It sounds like gospel to his ears. âTell me you wa-want it.â He pulls his face out of the crook of your neck just to meet your eyes - his own dark enough to send a shiver down your spine, his pupils blown out wide. âWanna hear it.â
Itâs difficult to get the words out, because you already know the answer. You do want it - but you shouldnât. You shouldâve called the cops ages ago. Shouldnât have even ever let him get his hands on you.
And yet here you were, ensnared within his web. Did it even make sense to try and struggle anymore? Would it not just get you even more tangled?
âI want it.â Itâs almost an out-of-body experience when you whisper those words to him - your voice barely even sounding like your own when you say it. âI want you.â
Maybe, just because youâre curious to see if he can back up each claim heâs making. If he really can be everything youâve been craving.
âYou do?â Toby grins - wild, almost manic. âGonna make you w-wish you got this shit on film.â
You can barely even get a thought in before heâs flipping the two of you around with a strength that makes your head spin - your back hitting the softness of your sheets mere seconds after the last word leaves his lips. Itâs like you flipped a switch - snapped the last string of his restraint the moment you let those sweet, sweet words of permission leave your lips. He was holding himself back - had been for a while now - you realize that as his greedy hands claw under your shirt, grasping and smoothing over every inch of skin he can find. âG-Gonna treat you good-â He breathes out, his eyes near feral as he gazes down at you - at his hands, shucking your shirt up to expose more and more soft flesh. âBeen th-thinkinâ about this for months. What Iâd do t-to you-â
Itâs a whirlwind, how quick Toby moves now that heâs been given the green light. You barely even register getting your shirt off. You blink and your braâs off too - with two desperate hands coming up to massage your bare tits right after theyâve been freed. âSo soft-â He huffs out. âGod- the cameras d-donât do you justice, baby.â
You whine when his fingers sink in just a bit too deep, writhing beneath him as he kneads the soft flesh under his palms - his fingers reaching to tweak your already perked up nipples. With your face scrunched up, you donât see it - but Toby looks enamoured as he gazes down at you. Completely and utterly smitten. Like he reached up and snatched an angel from heaven, just to drop her right on the sheets below him. âPerfect. Knew you would be.â
One hand stays playing with your tits, lavishing attention across the board like his heart would stop if he ever stopped touching you. The other one, slips down lower. His palm smoothing down the expanse of your bare abdomen before finding the button of your jeans. He doesnât hesitate, not even for a second - not even to ask you if it was alright. Like he was just so sure youâd say yes, that he didnât even need to hear you actually say it.
Your hips jolt when he tugs your zipper down, thighs twitching around his hips as he nudges himself in closer.
You can feel that buzzing in your veins swirling together with the desire - that half of your brain still begging you to flee. Itâs quickly shoved down by the more rational part of you - already knowing that itâs far too late. âG-Gorgeous.â Toby moans out as he tugs the denim down your legs, his breath catching with each new inch of bare skin thatâs revealed to him. Soft and silky, even in just the regular lights of your room. No makeup, no special lighting - just you, and you looked just as gorgeous as you ever have. âG-God- I barely even know where to f-fuckinâ start-â He says, and yet his hands seem to move quicker than his brain, because heâs tugging your panties to the side before he can even finish his own sentence.
Youâre not quite sure whatâs more humiliating - the fact that youâre already wet, or the fact that he comments on it. âLook at th-that,â Toby breathes, his voice filled with awe as his gaze drops down to your cunt - red and puffy from grinding down against him, slick glistening between the folds. âYou really d-do want me, huh? Already f-fuckinâ drenched.â His words arenât mocking, not even close to cruel - just so incredibly appreciative. âDonât worry, I g-gotcha.â He hums softly as his hand slides down lower, tugging a gasp from your lungs when his fingers slide through your wetness. âWonât even have to lift a finger this time a-around.â
His smile only widens at the way you tense up when his fingers find your clit, his eyes crinkling in apt appreciation at the way you choke on a moan - trying too desperately to muffle yourself, but failing miserably. âYou-Youâre really gonna be shy now?â He snickers, rolling his thumb against the sensitive nub - soft and slow, just warming you up for whatâs to come. âIâve heard i-it all. Seen it all, already. Whatâs there to hide from?â
Itâs hard to argue with his words, especially when he slips his middle finger right into you with no warning. His fingers are calloused and lean, longer than yours - reaching spots you had tried to time and time again. Like he knew your body better than you did, finding your g-spot after only a few curls in. âHow are you e-even this tight?â He breathes out, his gaze dropping down to watch as a second finger stretches you out. âFuckinâ yourself on the d-daily, and you still feel like fucking heaven.â
âT-Toby, fuck-â You can feel your brain turning to mush, your vision going blurry as his fingers scissor inside you. Curling just right, pressing into each and every sensitive spot. You canât even control yourself before your arms are reaching upwards, your fingers curling into the thick fabric of his jacket as some means to ground yourself. âS-Slow down-â You only ask that because of how quickly heâs winding you up - itâs almost embarrassing.
Itâs just impossible to fight against it, with how dedicated he seems to be to your pleasure - his dark eyes watching your each and every movement and expression, taking note of every little thing that makes you tremble just that much more.
âSlow down?â Toby chuckles softly, raising an eyebrow. He only doubles his efforts at that, two fingers pumping into your cunt as his thumb pressed up against your slick clit. âB-But this is how y-you like it. You f-forgetting who I am? I know you.â
If you had the breath to, youâd correct him. Tell him that he didnât know you - just a fraction of you. Just the âyouâ that you deemed perfect enough to display. But, youâre having a hard time stringing two thoughts together, let alone a convincing argument when heâs methodically breaking you down into pieces. âSpent w-weeks watchinâ how you work this pretty little cunt.â He grins. âIt ain't too much. Y-Youâre just mad I was right.â
Your cheeks burn, the sound of slickness every time his fingers sink into you is filthy even for your standards. Your walls are just parting for him, dripping slick onto his digits like a welcoming gift. Proving him right over and over again, your body singing his praises with each wet squelch. âYou need me. See that now?â
His head ducks down low, teeth nipping at your jawline as his fingers piston into you - not even the sleeve of his jacket is spared, the thick material stained with your essence each time his wrist snaps forwards. âI-If you didnât, you woulda pushed me away by now.â
And that, you canât argue with. Because you shouldâve pushed him away by now - shouldâve at least attempted to - but the moment you started wondering about what it would be like to give in? That was the end of it all for you.
He was right, and you knew it. You were his. Had been for a while now.
Your body seems to know that too. Your fingers claw at his shoulders as you feel that familiar warmth start brewing low in your gut - your clit pulsing under his thumb, the slick gumminess of your pussy constricting around him as he fingered you closer and closer to your release. There's a part of you that doesnât want to give into it - that wants to try and fend it off - but the majority? Itâs just screaming that this is the quickest youâve ever been able to get off, Tobyâs fingers working you just right. Like all his nights of studying you had paid off. He was damn near an expert now. âHah- I feel it- Youâre gonna cum f-for me, arenât you?â
Toby sounds absolutely elated, and you can practically feel the excitement radiating off of him as he presses his fingers into you deeper - curls them harder, lets his bites sink in sharper. âDreamt about this shit. G-Give it to me, yeah? Let me feel it. Câmon-â
You just canât fight it. Youâve been forced into the role of the unwitting lamb since this all began, and with a wolf like Toby pinning you to the sheets? There's just no chance of winning for you.
(Whatever âwinningâ even means, in this situation.)
The sound you let out when your orgasm hits you is one that Toby knows will be ringing in his ears for weeks. Months, even. This beautiful, broken cry - choked off and crackling under the weight of ecstasy as your body arches up into him. Sweet, sweat-slick skin pressing into his t-shirt, your lips parted in the perfect portrait of absolute bliss.
And he had been right - you amp it up for the cameras. You act, just like youâre supposed to. Put on a movie worthy performance of arousal, stretching your expressions to the extremes your audience craved so dearly. The real thing was just so much more glorious.
Soft features wrinkled together as your body trembles, your eyes rolling back as your eyelashes flutter - mouth agape as you gasp for breath. He just canât tear his eyes away - canât tear his hand away, even when you start whimpering and trying to push at his chest from the overstimulation. He just keeps fucking his fingers into your twitching cunt, over and over again, until tears spring to your eyes. Those, are just as beautiful as the rest of you - pretty pearlescent droplets framing red ringed eyes. Clumping your lashes together, making your irises just sparkle when you look up at him like you need him. âThatâs better.â He hums - clearly all too pleased with himself. âKnew youâd been f-faking it on stream.â
âFaking it?â You rasp out, the whispers of bliss still evident on your every feature as you try to catch your breath. You just look like such a dream beneath him - red and rosy, all your soft curves glistening with a sheen of sweat. All because of him. He almost gets dizzy when the thought starts to sink in fully. âI never faked anything.â
âMaybe n-not on purpose.â Toby shrugs, gently pulling his fingers out of you, only to drag his hand upwards - smearing your own slick against your tummy like a brand. His lips curl into a smirk as he sinks his fingers into the soft skin - watching with a keen interest how your flesh indents under his touch. âBut what you j-just gave me?â His hand slides back down low again - only a momentâs hesitation in the air before he pulls his palms back, then snapping his fingers forwards again to land a wet slap right against your weeping cunt. The yelp you let out has his gaze turning near feral. âThat was different. That w-was real.â
He drags his teeth against your neck, scraping over hickeys that were already beginning to throb - his tongue chasing every bite in attempts to soothe you. âAnd you wanna know s-something?â
You just barely manage to hum in response, with his presence clouding up your senses. Itâs the scent of him - sharp and metallic. The feel of him - desperate and unforgiving. The heat radiating off of him, hot enough to choke you out. He was smothering you, clogging up your pores with his essence so that youâd smell of him for weeks after the fact. It was just as intoxicating as it was terrifying.
You couldnât tell if it was your body betraying your mind, or the other way around. Whatever the state, you felt like a prisoner within your own sheets - sinking into the bed you made with the man you had unwittingly coaxed to join you.
Every touch was difficult to rationalize. Every breath against your skin was noxious - and yet you just couldnât force yourself to wriggle free. Something sick within you wanted this - wanted him. Something sick had parted your lips and spoken those words right to him. âBet you-youâll look even prettier cumming around my cock. Stretched just like y-youâve been wishinâ for.â
His hips keep you pinned to the bed, but his hands leave you in favour of shucking his jacket off and letting it drop to the floor. âEveryone who w-watches you, knows.â In just a t-shirt, your eyes roam the bare skin of his arms. Heâs lanky, but well built - trained for endurance, it seemed. Scars up and down his freckled skin, bandages and plasters covering up the newest scrapes. The shirt was loose, but it clung to him well - keeping just enough hidden to pique your curiosity.
And his face? Well, he was almost cute enough to make you forget how he had even gotten himself here in the first place. âCan see it on your f-face- You need more. Those t-toys just ainât cuttinâ it, are they, baby?â A deliberate nudge of his hips makes your brows wrinkle together. âNeed the re-real thing.â
You let out a near embarrassed whine, cheeks going pink like you hadnât just soaked his fingers moments prior. Lucky for you, Toby finds that cute. Unlucky for you, he thinks itâs fun to push it. âCâmon, say it.â A few soft pats against your core make you squirm, your entire body locking up in a mixture of humiliation and arousal. âThis p-pretty cuntâs been aching for a real cock, right? Just begging t-to be fucked stupid.â
âSh-Shut up-â
âThat your way of s-saying Iâm right?â Toby snickers, leaning back on his haunches to gaze down at you. âDidnât expect you t-to play coy, with how easy you are on camera.â Your gaze tracks his hands as they reach for his belt buckle, your eyes widening just a tad when he starts to work it loose. âLook at th-that face.â Toby grins. âYeah, see? I-Iâll give it to yaâ. Just gotta tell the truth. St-Stop playing, and admit you wanted this.â
And what can you even say? That you didnât? That this wasn't a situation you had conjured up in your mind time and time again? Because that would be a lie. Everything he said, had just a smidgen of truth laced within his words - like he had read you like a book before ever even coming face to face with you.
Yes, you had thought about him. Yes, you liked him more than the other donors you chatted with - thatâs why you treated him differently. Yes, you often found yourself wishing there was a real, breathing man between your thighs instead of your own fingers.
Yes, you had thought about Toby (or, your idea of Toby) fucking you before.
To say all of those things out loud would probably be like adding gasoline to a fire, and so instead you just whisper out;
âYeah, I wanted it.â Which ends up having the exact same effect.
Mere seconds after the words leave your lips, Tobyâs damn near pouncing. His belt is off in seconds, whipped to the side to clatter against your floor. His jeans are tugged down just as quick as his boxers are - not all the way, heâs too desperate for that, just enough to let his already leaking cock spring free.
His hands grip your hips and drag you to him - the two of you moaning in unison when his bare cock grinds against your core. Sliding through your folds, getting nice and slick. It felt like you were baptizing him - blessing him by letting his sweat mix with yours, by letting his precum mix with your wetness.
It was everything heâs ever dreamed of. Hot and wet, throbbing beneath him in tune to your own heart beat - like your body was coaxing him into just sinking right in. A slow grind of his hips makes his fingers twitch against your hips - his entire body taut and trembling, shaky huffs of breath spilling from his lips. Catching in his chest each time the head of his cock notched against your entrance.
He had dreamt about this, time and time again, and now that he was actually drowning in the reality of it he felt close to bursting. Almost too much to handle, how soft and sweet you were. How welcoming you were - just how he had hoped you would be.
Of course, you had lived up to his expectations, you were perfect after all.
âS-Say I can.â Toby breathes to you, the words coming out as a shaky exhalation. His eyes lock on yours, deep and intense - searching yours for any hint of hesitation. There's a flicker of it, but only for a moment before you bury it down again. âTell me you w-want me.â
And you are far past pretending.
âWant you-â You gasp out, your hips jerking with each nasty roll of his hips. You can feel the mess heâs making between the two of you - sweat and mixing fluids smearing against your pelvis with each press he makes downwards. âToby- Just fuck me already-â
You can feel it under your fingers when Toby tenses up, his muscles flexing beneath your touch before they relax again - and then, heâs letting out a breathy little laugh.
âN-Nasty fuckinâ mouth.â Heâs grinning as he reaches down low, curling his fingers around himself to line himself up properly. âLove that about you.â
Your stomach flips when you feel the head of his cock nudge against you - testing the waters, letting your brain come to terms with the stretch youâre about to take before he presses in further. For someone whoâs seemingly bursting with restless energy, heâs surprisingly slow when he sinks in - but thatâs because he was savouring it.
Savouring every inch of that tight, wet velvetiness - thanking god under his breath with each inch of himself he sunk into you. You felt like heaven and hell all wrapped up in one. So addictive, he knew that he was fucked before he even fully bottomed out.
He had told himself that this would just be a one time thing - that he'd find you, fuck you, get it all out of his system, then go back to normal life. A small part of him entertained the idea of winning you over and bringing you back with him, but he knew that was a pipe dream. Feeling how your body parted for him, though, it was feeling more and more like something he had to strive for.
Toby hadnât even realized he had been holding his breath the entire time, until he started to feel lightheaded right as his hips met yours. Eyes wide, chest heaving - he gazed down at you like you were a goddess laid before his own sacrifice. A heady mix of awe and reverence that made your skin buzz. âFuckinâ hellâŚâ He murmurs softly, one hand leaving your hip to slide onto your stomach - pressing down like he was trying in earnest to feel himself inside you. To feel for proof that this was all real.
You watch his eyes flicker down as his fingers twitch, drool glistening on his lips as they lock on to the junction right where the two of you are joined. His hips flush to yours, every inch of himself nestled right where he had been craving the past few months. Squeezing around him, dripping slick down onto him. Throbbing around him like your body was thanking him for being there. âL-Look at you-â He gasps. âF-Fuck- Look at you-â
His eyes flick back up to yours, pupils blown wide under drooping lids. âSâit feel just as good f-for you, as it does for me?â
That might be an understatement. You were resisting the urge to squirm on his dick, your entire body trembling as your pussy flutters around him in attempts to adjust. Heâs settled in deep, thick enough to make your mouth water even with how wet you had been. Slotting into you like a puzzle piece falling into place, filling up each nook and cranny with nothing left to be desired.
You couldnât even remember the last time you had felt this good, so easily. All he had done was sunk in, and you were thanking whatever god had brought him to you. Fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt, slipping up higher to knot into those thick brunette curls. Grasping tight, tugging just hard enough to make him gasp.
âYou feel perfect.â You breathe back to him, and itâs the whole truth. You couldnât even dream of lying right now. âBetter than I- Than I imagined.â
You let the words slip from your lust clouded mind, and they just do him in.
âYeah?â He groans softly, his hands keeping you pinned to the sheets as he draws his hips back. âThought a-about me?â The drag of his cock against your twitching walls is downright mind-numbing - but the feeling of him sinking back in all over again just steals the breath right from your lungs. âKn-Knew you did.â
His hips roll into you slow and deep, letting you really feel it every time he stretched you back open again. Wanting to etch himself into you - carve a path that anyone else would feel if you tried to get away from him after this. âDidnât-Didnât even know what I looked like, b-but you knew you needed me. Needed this.â
The sound of his hips meeting yours is filthy - slick and sticky, enough to make your gut twist. Itâs obscene - this entire situation is - but itâs that specific breed of sickness that your body yearned for. It was real - it was raw. It was everything you had wished for on all those lonely nights, tending to Toby before anyone else. âFuckinâ-â He groans low, the sound rumbling out of his chest when you tighten up around him - a reward for his efforts as he nudges right up against your g-spot. âFuckinâ yourself e-every night, wishing it was me.â
Itâs not clear whether or not he was looking for an answer to that, but when his hips snap forwards harder, you realize that he was. You choke out a cry, your nails scratching against his scalp as you tug on his hair harder - legs squeezing around his hips and arms wrapped around his neck. Completely and utterly wrapping yourself up around him, just as he had always wanted. âItâs true, r-right?â Another snappy thrust has you arching up into him, Toby taking advantage of that by nudging his face into your neck. âP-Pretending to care about all the other d-dumb fucks, but you were thinking about me. W-Wishing I was there.â
His teeth sink into your neck - hard - not enough to break skin, but definitely enough to bruise. Just another to add to the collection heâs already given you. âSay it.â
âI was!â You gasp out, your entire face scrunching up when he picks up the pace. Slow grinds turning into deep, quick snaps of his hips - sinking the entire length of his cock into you on every press in. Absolutely soaked by you, glistening with your slick in a way that had his breath stuttering along with his hips. âTh-Thought about you.â Your fingers grasp downwards, clawing his shirt half up his back as his hips press into yours. Eyes glassy, you can barely even focus on the sight of him above you, but even through the blur you can tell he looks gorgeous. Fluffy brown hair frizzed up by the heat generated by the two of you, sweat beading down his temple, his cheeks flushed a pink so deep it was swallowing up his freckles.
And his eyes. They were devoted to you. His gaze felt like a touch in itself, with the way it swept over every inch of you with rapt appreciation. Like he was memorizing you - cataloguing each and every one of your dips and curves to file away and rave over later. Toby looked at you like he just couldnât believe you were real, even as his cock punched moans out of your lungs.
Toby looked at you like he loved you, without even fully knowing you. He looked at you, like nothing you could ever say, or do, would tarnish his view of you.
It was something you could barely even wrap your head around, especially now, when he seemed to be hellbent on fucking your thoughts right out of your skull.
âY-Yeah, you fuckinâ were-â He pants, his words broken up by sparse groans that just sound so lovely to your ears. Hoarse and strained, like being with you pained him just as much as it satisfied him. âThinkinâ about me- Fuckinâ this t-tight cunt wishing it was my cock-â
He lets out a harsh, breathless laugh - the sound near deranged, like he couldn't believe you were confirming and endorsing his sickest desires. His movements had evolved to something relentless, his fingers bruising into your flesh - blunt nails clawing off thin layers of skin under them. You jolt every time he sinks in to the hilt, your features wrinkling like itâs just bordering on too much.
Itâs an expression heâs never seen on you before. Itâs something heâd snap a picture of to immortalize, if his phone wasn't busted.
Yeah, heâs keeping you. He canât wait to break the news. âG-God, look at this shit-â He sounds almost manic as he breathes those words out, his eyes gleaming with deranged glee as he watches your flesh ripple with each harsh snap of his hips. He could drool, watching how your flesh moves. He does, but barely even notices when a few spots of saliva seep out of the gash in his face and land on your stomach. âTakinâ it like you were m-made for it.â
And maybe thatâs when it clicks for him, that this is the girl heâs watched put herself in the most depraved situations. This is the girl who definitely can take whatever sick desires heâs got brewing.
So, his hands slip upwards, palms gripping the backs of your thighs before heâs pushes up - pinning them right against your chest, your knees damn near touching your ears. Practically folded in half, and yet you donât even push back against it, you just cry out in a plea for more.
His lips twitch into the most self-satisfied grin when your eyes roll back, choking on a moan halfway through the noise as he sinks in even deeper. Itâs enough to make your mind completely go blank for a second - your thoughts fizzling into white noise as he drives his cock into your g-spot with a force that brings tears to your eyes.
Youâre too overwhelmed to even notice when tears break free and spill down your cheeks, but Toby notices - of course he does, his eyes have been glued to your face, taking note of every little change in your expression. âSo fuckinâ pretty-â He gasps out, leaning down to nuzzle against your cheek. His lips part, his tongue darting out to lap up your tears, a deep groan rumbling against you as the salt meets his taste buds. âSo fuckinâ m-mine-â
Itâs humiliating, the way your body sings at those words. That sweet possessiveness that he had no right bearing, sinking deep into your veins like a drug. Because if that was true - if you really were his - it sure felt like a nice thing to be.
âMâyours-â Youâre half delirious as you choke those words out, barely even thinking about the weight they hold as your cunt clenches around his cock. Taken right to the brink all over again, toes curling by his shoulders as he fucks your next release right out of you.
And this time? Itâs messy. Itâs something you had strived for on stream because you knew it would get clicks, but you just couldnât ever make it happen with your own hands. Toby, though, does it easily - fucks you deep until youâre gushing all over him - hot, wet, droplets of your release hitting the front of his t-shirt and staining it.
You borderline convulse - twitching and crying beneath him as he works you through the aftershocks, his eyes shining with a feral glee the entire time.
âE-Even fuckinâ squirting for me?â Toby chokes out a disbelieving laugh, the intensity of his movements only increasing tenfold upon that revelation. You can feel it as his cock throbs inside you - his thrusts going sloppy, teetering on the edge right along with you. âYou really d-did need me, baby.â
His hands keep your thighs pinned, leaving you nowhere to squirm away, even when you get so sensitive it makes your skin crawl. âGonna fuckinâ cum in you-â He gasps out, and youâre almost sure your ass must be red from the force in which his hips are snapping into yours. âGonna cum s-so deep youâre gonna fuckinâ taste it-â
Even if you wanted to argue that, you canât - reduced to just a mess of tears and drool as his cock bullies your g-spot over and over again, just fucking more release out of you on each stroke in. Toby loves the mess, though, and if the elated look on his face didnât prove that, his twitching hips sure do.
He only manages a few more sloppy thrusts in, before heâs making good on his promise. His hands keep you folded in half, his cock sinking in deep enough to make you choke before heâs completely letting go. A strangled groan vibrates against your ear as you feel that hot, sticky warmth bloom inside you - Tobyâs hips jerking with each thick pulse of it he deposits deep inside your warm, waiting body.
For you, it feels like completely giving in. For Toby, it feels like confirming the claim he had staked on you from the start.
Feeling it drip out around his cock to stain your thighs, feels like leaving a mark that you couldnât soon erase - even if you wiped the evidence from your flesh. âFeel that?â He murmurs softly, his body curling over yours - his face pressed into your neck as he pants against your skin. âM-Means youâre mine.â His hands give your thighs a tight squeeze, his lips curled into a sated smile against your skin. âGo on and f-fuck another guy after this - heâll just be fucking me d-deeper into you.â
But thatâs something youâre not even sure if you could fathom after this. The aches he placed in your joints would linger for weeks. The thoughts he placed in your head would stick around for years.
So, you just pull him in closer - let his softening cock stay warm inside you as you curl your fingers into his hair.
Not too keen to let go, just how he had known you would be.
-
âToby, câmon, Iâm about to start rolling.â
Toby wasn't quite sure how exactly he had expected this all to end, but you - perfect you - transformed his deepest fantasies into reality.
Sprawled out on his bed now, dressed up in the prettiest lingerie he had picked out, waiting for him with your legs folded beneath you.
Like a dream he just couldnât wake up from, no matter how many times he pinched himself. Gazing up at him with those sweet eyes that had stolen him from the start.
âA-And whatâre we going for today, hm?â He hums as he fiddles with the goggles nestled in the strands atop his head. âGot s-specifics for me?â
Your hands are already reaching for him when he draws near, curling into the hood of his sweater and tugging him in closer.
âNah.â You grin. âJust keep the mask on.â
And that, he can do.
ââââââââââ
HIIIIIIIIII Iâve been teasing this one for ages now lmfao canât believe I finally got it out
huge thank you to my lovely lovely beta who got to watch me crank this shit out in real time!
Summary âą Toby is your childhood best friend, a presence that has always been there, lingering. But lately, you find yourself questioning your friendship and if there's more hidden beneath the many layers.
WC âą 12.8k.
Warning(s) âą 18+, safe sex, AUs, sex, head, eating out, swearing, stuttering, mentions of religion, drug use, mentions of weed, heavy talk of religion, orgasm, kissing, fluids, sexual content, vaginal, sexual overstimulation, protected sex, mentions of blood, violence.
"So," he took a moment to inhale the cigarette that was perched between his dry lips, savouring in the rich taste of nicotine before shooting you a gaze from under the mess of his brown hair. "You going to s-ssee me tonight?" There was a hint of amusement in his words, a soft smile tugging on the one intact corner of his lip as he retrieved the cigarette and fiddled with it between his thumb and index finger, rolling it aimlessly - his anxiety already plucking at his confidence. You shuffled on the wooden bench, crossing a leg over the other and humming softly. It was an invitation you couldn't deny, seeing him play in the band, being with him, there was nothing more but you knew you needed the money more than anything right now and skipping another shift could get your ass fired. Biting the bottom of your lip, the silence hung and lingered between the two of you.
"I don't know, Toby. I should work tonight, my boss is already getting pissy with me skipping out on shifts.." your voice faded as you finally exchanged a look with him, your gaze meeting for a moment which was enough to send your heart spiralling. He was perfect, perfect in more ways than one. His hair, his chiselled chin and jawline, the stubble that decorated the bottom of his chin, the piercings. God, missing out on an opportunity to fuck this guy would be like shooting yourself in the foot. He looked at you in a way that was more than sex, than want - he looked at you like you were the most amazing thing to look at. The endless times you caught him staring.
Finally, with a gentle shrug, Toby peeled his gaze away; back to the cigarette between his fingers. "It's on you," he uttered, though the disappointment were evident in his tone. You hated letting him down, this was your third time bailing on him and it wasn't like this job was paying great anyway. "I'll find ss-someone else." And there, your heart dropped. Someone else?
"Oh, I'm that replaceable?" you snapped back, brows furrowing softly as you lazily draped your arms over your crossed legs. There, you reached over to pluck the cigarette from his own fingers, taking a moment to suck in a drag that filled your lungs with toxicity that lulled you for more each time. His chuckle filled the air, music to your ears as he leant back against the protective shield that hung over what used to be a bike rack. It was nothing more than a smoking area now; coincidentally outside your work.
"I meaan.." his voice trailed as he stood to his feet, your gaze following him closely as he trailed over to his truck that was parked nearby. "Not that I-I wanna replace you. You're th-th-t-the only girl I want there." Your heart fluttered at those words, knowing that he was just saying this to tempt you to see his show. "How much is this jank-ass job p-p-paying you anyway?" he motioned to the 'employee's only' door, his face twisting in disgust. It was a valid enough reaction, Toby quit working at this shithole after only being there for a week. He nearly punched your boss before leaving but decided he didn't want any more on his criminal record than what was already on there.
With a stifled groan, you rubbed your temple annoyingly. He was right, Toby was always right. "Not enough," you uttered, hitting another drag off the cigarette with a solemn look toward the door. Your shift started soon. His question lingered in your mind but you were hesitant to answer because he already knew you could barely scrape by.
"Hey," he called, opening up the door to his truck, one leg already resting on the door frame as his arms draped over the top of the truck. "Last chance," he raised his eyebrows, daring you almost to just go get away for a night and let your hair down. "I'll p-p-pay for your drinks."
"I look like shit," you called out, though you were already standing from the bench, body swaying with uncertainty.
Toby shrugged. "Who cares?" And once again, he was right. With a gentle nibble on the bottom of your lip, you glanced at the door once more before hastily jogging to his truck. It was some junk he bought off marketplace and he spent way too much on it but it was his pride and joy. At the sight of you quickly getting in his passenger seat, he practically threw a fist in the air in joy as he scurried into the drivers seat.
His truck stunk of stale cigarettes, crumbled bags of take out scattered on the floor by your feet and atop the dashboard were scrunched up dollar bills. His guitar and amp were in the back, making it easy for any person to come and steal it but it seemed Toby neglected to find much of a care. Hanging from the rear view mirror was a small cross, which honestly surprised you because you never saw Toby as much of a religious person. Plus, you could've sworn this wasn't here last time. Noticing your gaze, he shifted, turning the key in the ignition and pulled the gearstick into drive.
"It's not m-mmine," he motioned to the cross with a gentle nod. "It's Lyras." You studied his face as his eyes remained on the road ahead. You found yourself appreciating the soft freckles that hid beneath the soft and tenderness of his skin, despite how pale he often seemed, today his cheeks seemed sun-kissed. His lip twisted softly with a scar that pierced his moustache, a deep scar that must've required stitches. You could see soft little cuts here and there, another deep slit across his brow, that also separated the hair - some cuts littering across his cheeks and jawline. It was nothing compared to what the other side of his face looked like but most the time, he covered it up with a gauze or something to hide it. Today was one of those days. You knew Toby liked playing in his band, but you also knew his social anxiety, the same social anxiety that made him crave your touch or the same social anxiety that always caused him to touch the lower pit of his stomach tenderly as if he was trying to push back the urge to throw up. He was all muscle, no brain, but despite his rough exterior - he was a massive softy. God, he was such a nerd too. You'd lost count how many times Toby yapped to you about Star Wars and how he understood Anakin and fucking them kids up because 'fuck them kids.' He was such a character, a character you had grown to love since college. Well, even though he got kicked out before even getting his degree.
You understood his past and problems, along with Lyra - though admittedly you saw very little of her nowadays. You thought about her a lot, about her life and his. How much they endured, what they went through. You knew that despite being the younger brother, Toby looked after Lyra more than he looked after himself - almost as if he was making up for some sort of lost time or trying to give back to her. He'd spoken to you a lot about his father, most of the time while he was high and he touched softly on the car accident. You made sure not to pry because you could see each time he rapidly began to blink away tears as soon as he mentioned it. You hadn't met Lyra before the accident but it seemed she were more religious than he were, so this cross made sense.
"It's nice," you replied, shooting him a reassuring smile. You weren't going to sit here and judge him, you got it and he knew you did. With a little nod, he smiled and kept his eyes on the road ahead. You found yourself sinking into the seat of the car, turning your head to glance out the window. The weather had been forgiving lately, with bright, blue skies and sun warm enough to make you drowsy and aching for an afternoon nap. Though, it started to trickle with rain and honestly? You weren't complaining. It had been so warm, everything practically had dried up.
"So, how come you haven't b-been mm-messaging me?" he interrupted the brief silence, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. A soft little grin graced his features softly, reassuring you that he wasn't mad. It was no lie that you'd been airing him as of lately and honestly, you didn't know why. Perhaps because the two of you had grown increasingly close as of late and maybe you just weren't ready for that? Shit, did he even feel the same? It was a bad habit, pushing the people you loved away, but you couldn't help it.
"I'm sorry-" you started, trying to think of some excuse, some reason but your mind becoming blank. "I've just been so busy, with college and finals and then this shitty ass job, I swear, it's not on purpose." Though, you knew it was. Toby turned up his nose, shaking his head softly before grabbing his chest dramatically.
"You dirty l-llair-" he sniffled, earning an honest chuckle.
"What was your major again? Acting?" you teased softly which now in return, made him chuckle. His hand moved back to the steering wheel, fingers wrapping around the frame tightly before relaxing as he shrugged.
"I dunno, got kicked out b-before they gave me my d-d-diploma." Rolling your eyes softly, you shook your head. You hated the idea of Toby getting kicked out of college because you knew how incredibly smart he was - at times. A silence began to loom over the two of you again as you shuffled around inside your bag to find your phone, flipping it open and checking over your texts. Nothing. Shit, had you deleted his texts? "Thanks for finding the t-time for me tonight." His tone of voice softened, his shoulders relaxing briefly as he opened up to you - something in his voice telling you that tonight he just needed this, needed to be with you.
"It's fine," you replied, turning your gaze back to the man. "Someone's gotta hear your shitty music," you teased which made him laugh, a deep, glutaral laugh and send a wave of shivers down your spine. If only he pursed his music major.
Wetting his lips, he shook his head softly; "alright, alright." He shook his head, his chuckles subsiding for the time being as he turned his attention back to the road ahead. The road ahead began to wet with the rain, the soft patter on the rooftop above the both of you. The quiet space between you wasn't awkward, not anymore. You had known Toby for so long, the same guy that had seen you fall headfirst into a bush while drunk, the same guy who would take a shit while your in the bathroom with him and not give a fuck. You had grown up together - so these things, personal space, any sense of shame or embarrassment - it was taboo. Toby made you feel comfortable, safe and he wouldn't do anything jeopardise that. You knew that and even he knew that.
"What have you been up to lately anyway?" you asked, unable to push away the itch of curiosity. You felt awful for asking him, because you should know. You should message him, you should've not ghosted him. With his gaze remaining strictly on the road ahead, he gave a curt shrug of his shoulders before humming in thought.
"Your mom," he snorted and quickly, he received a glare from your direction which he felt immediately causing him to throw his hands up quickly. "Sorry, the chance was there-" then he chuckled again, quickly throwing his hands back on the wheel as he felt the car begin to drift.
"Asshole, be serious," you urged softly though you didn't have a right to know. In fact, you didn't blame him if he was hesitant to tell you. Why should you deserve to know? You'd been ghosting his ass ever since what happened a couple weeks back, when he admitted that he loved you with red, glazed over eyes and really, you weren't sure why that deterred you as badly as it did.
You and Toby were no strangers to sleeping in the same bed but you didn't mean to fuck him, you didn't mean to fuck him almost every week. He was just so damn tempting, so easily fuckable and it ate away at you everyday. Why? Because the idea of fucking him specifically felt wrong. Because you couldn't look at him when he was on top of you, those beautiful brown eyes staring down at you with a hint of affection. Behind all the lust, the want, the ache and yearning; it was so fucking wrong. You had known him since he were a kid and vice versa, fucking him was like opening a bible and ripping out the pages. God, he fucked good though, more than any other guy you had slept with. Because Toby knew you, inside and out quite literally - and he knew how your body reacted, what touch made you gasp, where to kiss you just to make your skin prickle for him. Fucking him was a guilty pleasure you kept falling back to and now, you were ghosting him because you couldn't do this anymore. You didn't want to love him, you didn't deserve him. Worst of it all, it was unspoken of - something the two of you never discussed. People knew, shit, you knew people knew. His bandmates, his mom probably.
"Honestly, nnothing," he admitted, moving to rest his elbow on the door beside him while his fingers toyed idly with strands of his hair. "Been trying to ff-find a job, but nobody wants a t-twenty-five year old with a criminal record." You cringed a little at his words, right, a criminal record he got because of you.
"You'll find somewhere," you reassured, aching to reach out and caress his bicep but keeping your hands to yourself. "Plus, I could always ask my work if there are looking for people, well - that's if they let me keep my job for skipping out on this shift," you uttered the last part, mostly because you didn't want to make him feel shitty for swaying you to hang with him instead. He was a bad influence, he knew he was. His eyes flickered to meet yours briefly before returning back to the road, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lip.
"Nah, working with you would be my l-last straw," he jested softly, earning a sigh from you. A typical Toby answer. "Kidding!" he quickly spoke upon hearing your sigh, moving a hand to gently nudge your shoulder. "Chill."
"How's therapy?" Was this an insensitive question? Was it too soon? Would he even open up to you after you practically ignored his ass for weeks? Toby hesitated and you practically held your breath, it was too soon. There was a tension and he jittered for a moment, fingers curling up in the palm of his hand as he gently knocked his knuckles against the side of his temple as he thought. "I'm sorry if it's too-"
"No, no, it's okay," he insisted softly, finally turning you fully now that you had both stopped at a red light to exchange a smile. A reassuring smile, one that said, 'it's okay, I got you.' Because he always had you, whether it be picking you up from work at 2 AM, to being there in an instant when you text him that you needed someone to talk to. The amount of gas this guy wasted on you, but it was all worth it because he loved you. You wished he didn't. "I'm gonna be honest," he began, quickly avoiding your gaze to look at the traffic light. "I haven't been g-going." Your heart dropped.
"Why?" you quickly replied, brows twisting up in concern as you assessed his face closely for any fracture, anything that told you what was happening beneath his pretty head.
"It's just-" he breathed out a heavy sigh that had been weighing down on his chest for awhile. "No, don't worry, okay?" but you had to worry, because Toby was everything, the idea of him not getting the help he needed, no, deserved, it broke your heart. If you could give him the damn moon, you would've.
"Toby," you warned softly, shaking your head in disapproval but his focus remained on the road as the light turned green and he pushed the car into gear. "Look, I don't want to pry, but it's good for you-"
"I don't nn-nneed you to tell me what's good for me and w-what isn't, okay?" he retorted, snappier than you were expecting, cutting you off. Toby wasn't a snappy person, not really. He usually expressed his anger more privately, whether that be in a notebook, playing guitar or punching himself in the head (which thankfully he got out of the habit pretty quickly.) Your lips pursed and you knew you overstepped, turning back to sink into the leather of the chair beneath you. He sighed. "I'm sorry."
"No, it was my fault-" you began but he held up a hand, waving you off with a dismissive gesture.
"No, I shouldn't have sn-ssnapped at you. It's not right." You wanted to reach up, to wrap your fingers around his hand, to press your lips against his knuckles but you kept your hands to yourself. Now just wasn't the time and god forbid you eat yourself away with guilt again. Despite the tension, you forced a smile because he was so kind to you - so gentle in ways he used to never be. Therapy had taught him a lot, showed him a lot. He had grown up with so much violence that he thought it were the norm. Toby now wouldn't hurt a butterfly, let alone a spider but Toby when he was a kid? He'd always think that punching or slapping was normal in terms of communication. He was so perfectly fragile.
With a gentle sigh, you fell silent and the silence swallowed you both whole again. The only noise being the windshield wipers, the occasional hum of chatter from the radio and his fingers thrumming a gentle beat against the steering wheel. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you shouldn't have gone with him because things felt so different, like a shift in energies between the two of you that you couldn't begin to understand. Were you the only one noticing it? Or had he too? The car journey remained in silence which wasn't particularly welcoming and soon enough he pulled into the parking of the bar he usually played at. You could recognise his bandmates other cars, parked by the back entrance of the door. It was only Jack that was leant against the wall beside the door, smoking a cigarette and fiddling with his lighter in one hand. As the car shut off and Toby moved to open the door, your phone began to ring and he paused; shooting you a glance over his shoulder.
"It's probably work," you awkwardly chuckle, moving to reach for your phone and waving it in the air. Toby glanced at your phone, like he were trying to read the number on the screen before giving a curt nod.
"Answer it," he replied with a casual shrug. "Tell them you're sick," and it was a good excuse. "If you get caught, blame it on me." Then he left the drivers seat, closing the door behind him and moving to retrieve his guitar and amp from the trunk. You chewed on your bottom lip, anxiety pooling in your stomach at the idea of lying to your manager, guilt chewing away at you at the idea of ditching them when you knew they were so short staffed. With a reluctant sigh, you quickly answered the call and pressed your phone to your ear.
"Hey, where are you? You're late," your manager was quick on your ass, no 'hey, how are you?' He wasn't that type of person and you'd worked there for so long that the honeymoon stage of being treated like an actual human being was thrown out the window. Quickly, your throat restricted, like a lump was beginning to form because you hated confrontation, you hated letting people down and now here you were at the verge of tears - not just because of work but because everything between you and Toby felt so different.
"I'm sorry-" you choked out, blinking away the tears and quickly pulling at the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your eyes. "I won't be coming in today-"
"Oh, so now you tell me? You know, I really could've done with an earlier call. We've hardly anyone here and we really could've used you." Your lips pursed and your bottom lip wobbled. Slowly, you exchanged a glance out the window through the drivers seat to see Toby fist bumping Jack and speaking to one another. Life with him felt so simple, like you were supposed to be in this moment with him and yet a part of you couldn't help but feel that maybe he were better off if he didn't have such a shitty and crappy friend like you. "Hey? Hello?"
"I'm sorry-" quickly, you spluttered and cleared your throat, sitting up to avoid sinking back further into the chair. "I'm sorry, uhm.. I should've called, yeah.." you trailed off as your gaze connected with Toby's and his smile faltered upon seeing your expression. Your heart sank because he shouldn't look at you in this way, with so much care and love. It was unfair, it was cruel to play with him. But before you could quickly blind away the glossiness in your eyes, he was walking back over to the truck and quickly you glanced down at your lap - internal panic flooding your system. This was the last thing you wanted. "I have to go. I'm sorry," and quickly you hung up on your manager, internally cringing because you knew that you'd be fired for shit like this. That you risked your fucking job for this guy, for Toby - who okay, admittedly, wasn't just 'some guy', it was him.
The drivers seat door swung over and Toby leaned in, his large, veined hands resting on the seat as he looked up at you with brows twisted in concern. You were already waving a hand dismissively, silently pleading to him that you were okay. But Toby knew you, he knew you in more ways than one and he read you like you were an open book. A book that was so fragile, that when he held you, his hands would tenderly trace your spine so he could never forget the feel of you beneath his hands. To memorise you, your voice, your scent, the way you chuckled at his corny jokes.
You loved him and it hurt to admit it. It hurt him to see you push him away.
"You okay?"
"I'm okay," your voices overlapped and you gave out a dry chuckle, shaking your head and quickly wiping your tears on the corner of your sleeve once again - hoping that erasing them would make him forget that they ever existed. His head tilted a little, his brown locks falling slightly and he sucked in his teeth, hand moving to reach out. His fingers lingered by your cheek, grazing the skin so softly it didn't feel real before quickly his fingers curled into a fist and he just nudged you playfully.
"Come on," he urged, big brown eyes pleading you silently and you were already moving to leave the truck. Just have a good time, that was all you were telling yourself as you stepped out. At least the raining had stopped and as you glanced up toward the back door where Jack was still standing, his head adverted upwards to meet you and he gave a half smile, pulling up a hand to give you a gentle wave. You had long ago accepted that Toby and nearly all of his friends were attractive as hell. Must be something in this small town, the water their drinking because goddamn, just seeing Toby stood beside Jack was like a sin itself. Pulling up your zipper to hide your work uniform, you shuffled toward the door to approach the two boys as they chatted aimlessly about women, the type of weed Jack had, the setlist for tonight - guy talk.
"Hey," Jack shot you another soft smile, warmer. "It's been awhile." You cringed again, even he had noticed your absence.
"Yeah, I've been busy with school and work," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest awkwardly. Jack's lips turned upward in an understanding frown and he nodded.
"Well, you're here now," he countered back and you both exchanged a smile. He tossed his cigarette onto the floor and snuffed it out before uttering an awkward, 'see you in there' and stepping inside through the big black back door; leaving you and Toby alone.
"I have a spare shirt if you wanna change," Toby said, motioning to you as he pulled out his own packet of cigarettes and retrieved one. You glanced down at yourself, he must've noticed how you were awkwardly hugging yourself in a desperate attempt to hide how awful you looked. You contemplated it for a moment before humming and offering a thankful smile.
"No, it's okay-"
"Let me get it," Toby was already moving back to his truck, the scent of his lit cigarette following as he stepped past you. Opening up the back seat, he shuffled around before retrieving a shirt. It was a black and white long sleeve 'Vans' shirt he must've bought, you'd seen him wear it a couple of times but not often - hence why it was probably lost in the back of his truck. He lifted it up, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth to give it a cautious sniff before chucking it over toward you. "Here, shouldn't smell too bad," there was a shit eating grin on his face and you scoffed out a laugh, catching it just before it hit the ground. You raised it yourself, giving a little sniff toward the fabric. Honestly, you were expecting it to at least smell of sweat, but lord above, it was just a perfect mixture of sweat and cologne. You must be ovulating because a smell like that was enough to earn a little hum in satisfaction, a hum you prayed he didn't hear as he slammed the door to the truck shut and began sauntering over.
"Thanks," you held up the shirt awkwardly and gave him a half smile.
"There should be like a dd-d-dressing room or bathroom inside, I can mm-meet you?" he suggested, moving back toward the wall beside the door to take a puff from his cigarette. You nodded obediently, though the idea of dressing here didn't phase you either. It was relatively dark aside from the flashing light of the bar and Toby had seen you pretty naked before.. but alas, you couldn't feed into these feelings, no, desires and quickly you moved toward the door. As you reached out for the handle and opened it up, one of his hands came around the frame of the door, pulling it and holding it open for you. "Thanks," you uttered, stepping inside.
The behind of the bar was like any other and one you had seen countless times, a long white wall covered in stickers, occasionally graffiti from other artists that had come by. To the right was the bathroom, small and cramped, straight ahead was the stage, to the left just a little further up was the storage room which must've also contained the cellar for all the kegs of booze. You had seen this place so many times, vison hazed from drink, stumbling down the hall while laughing, with Toby by your side; an arm around your waist to keep you from tripping up over your own feet. If only things stayed the same, if only things weren't so awkward, so stale. Grimacing, you turned to enter the bathroom and locked the door behind you. The bathroom itself was more rundown than the bar itself and a part of you were surprised that the toilet still worked, it was practically falling off the wall. Turning around, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror that was positioned itself on the wall just right of the door. You looked.. awful and you weren't just saying that, you really did. Even if you made an attempt to rub your eyes, they still hung heavy from the lack of sleep.
Not wanting to waste time glaring at yourself, you rushed to quickly peel off your work shirt and to tug on Toby's. God, this shirt smelt like heaven and it was far too big for you - but that wasn't a problem. It would never be a fucking problem.
Glancing down at the shirt swallowing you whole, you felt your heart do flips. You had come to accept that you would never understand Toby, his intentions, what you were. You accepted that Toby was someone that would always leave you feeling dizzy, that he knew how to make you feel like the only girl in the world. He was a force, a force you wanted to reckon with because it made your dull life so much more interesting. Yet, you knew you were playing games, dangerous games with him that you leave you aching for more in a way that you despised. Oh, Toby, why do you do this? And the worst part is that he probably has no idea that he's doing it, he's a man after all. Gently you picked up the hem of the shirt between your two fingers, feeling the fabric, assessing it like it were fine china and eventually your stomach clenched causing you to quickly curl the fabric up into your fists, lifting it to inhale deeply. If someone were to catch you doing this, especially him, you'd look fucking mental, it's just Toby made you feel mental. Letting out a satisfied huff, you dropped the shirt and picked up your work one, folding it neatly before unlocking the door to leave. You glanced once up the hall, then down the other way until you noticed the door to the exit opened and Toby came strolling in.
The man looked you up and down, a satisfied smirk across his rugged features.
"You look good," he remarked, strolling past you and half expecting you to follow; to which you did obediently.
"Are you sure?" you asked meekly, holding your work shirt close to your chest as you followed behind him. Toby hummed, shooting you a glance over his shoulder.
"Do I usually l-llie?" he asked, brow raised and for once his features softened; turning serious as if you were accusing him. Quickly, you panicked and just as you opened your mouth to quickly protest, he was grinning. "I'm teasing you."
"Of course you are," you remarked, though it wasn't bitter and you tried to hide your smile in a frown.
"Stop trying to hide your ss-ssmile from me," he lulled softly, turning to step backwards now down the hall as he watched you closely. His words didn't help and now your smile was stretching out more, causing you to quickly glance away in defiance.
"Go away," you chuckled, shaking your head softly and he stopped suddenly, causing you to bump into him.
"Go away? For what, wanting to ss-see that b-beautiful smile?" he pondered, glancing down at you with furrowed brows. No, no, no, he was doing it again and he knew it - he fucking knew it and you were falling for it more and more.
"Jesus," you remarked, quickly glancing down at his converse before he caught your chin with his fingers, forcing you to glance up at him.
"Ah, see?" he said, his eyes meeting yours with a cocky smirk. "There's that smile, big as Christmas that," he tapped your nose softly with his thumb and then, his thumb trailed down to your bottom lip. A caress that held more than words, an action that spoke more between the two of you. You were frozen, rightfully so and just as his lips parted again to speak, Jack called his name out.
"You lovebirds coming?" Jack remarked and quickly Toby's hand dropped, spinning on his heel to quickly pace down the hall - leaving you in a state of confusion. Originally, you felt as if you were playing him, but was he now playing you? Had he caught onto your playing? And decided to mess with you? Just because, well, fuck you? It was deserved and you admitted that. You were a player, with big letters written on your forehead no matter how hard you tried not to be.
With a sigh, you squeezed your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block out that memory quickly before it lingers and you hurried to follow him down the hall toward the stage. It wasn't a huge stage, no, more like just an open space that was called a stage because that's were most the artists played. The bar was full, more full that it usually were and more full than you expected on a Thursday night as you peered around the doorframe to the crowd. It was a variety of people, the old couple that comes to this bar every night, teenagers trying to get free booze despite looking like kids, the grunge, midwestern looking people that Toby's band and music attracted. It was great to see how many people gathered and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for Toby and where he was at. His band had a name, sort of, locally anyway and you were proud that more people were discovering them because he deserved it so much. He deserved being seen, being loved, something he hadn't felt.. ever. Shooting a glance over toward the band, you saw Brain tapping out some beats on his drums quickly, Toby plugging his guitar into the amp and quickly tuning it before starting. Jack was adjusting the microphone stand and there was a mummer in the crowd, a buzz for good music and good booze - a buzz you couldn't tune into.
Not wanting to linger, you quickly ushered past the stage onto the floor in front before skulking your way toward the bar. Unbeknownst to you, Toby's gaze followed you with a hint of worry; not wanting to lose you in the crowd and not being able to be there for you if you needed him. His worries were blind to you as you approached the bar, placing your shirt on the sticky table bar itself before leaning your elbows against it. A bartender appeared, taking your order and quickly he disappeared again to make it. Admittedly, you couldn't find yourself lost in the music like you usually would because you were so wrapped up about Toby. About everything between you two, about your job, your work. It was like everything was slowly falling apart and you were just out of reach to make it better.
A part of you considered leaving. Leaving this small town, leaving your troubles behind. Driving out of state, hitchhiking until you found somewhere where you could belong but deep down you knew it were useless. No matter where you went, he would be there, his shadow lingering over yours, the memories of the nights you spent together plaguing you no matter where you turned. The truth was, you couldn't live without Toby and it was something you couldn't admit to yourself, let alone him.
The hum of music began and slowly, you glanced up toward the stage. Toby was immersed into his music, fingers dancing over the neck of his guitar as he played each chord and strummed each rhythm without much difficulty. You were happy for him, watching him do something he loved and yet a part of you hated him for it and you weren't sure why. Perhaps there was something wrong with you, perhaps you shouldn't have come to this gig to begin with. You should've continued ignoring his calls, you should've blocked his number for fucks sake and now here you were, watching him and there he was, watching you like you were the only person in the whole room. He made the room spin, his gaze full of something that was more than just passion for his music, a passion for you. Suddenly, it all came crashing down, something you didn't want to admit nor acknowledge; that you both had feelings for each other and the sudden urge to push yourself off the bar and to leave became overwhelming.
"Hey, haven't seen you here before," a voice called but it wasn't the voice that snapped you from your thoughts, it was the touch on your elbow and quickly you turned. A face you weren't familiar with stood beside you at the bar, a man that was at least thirty years older and just seeing him made you feel a wave of nausea.
Despite the intimidation, you forced a friendly smile and gently tugged your elbow away from his grip. He looked like one of those fuckers that had just left his lumbering job, a marriage that was failing and his hairline so far back that it increased the size of his forehead. In one short simple word, a fucking creep trying to fuck young women that he met at a bar.
"Uh, yeah," you mumbled, moving to pick up your soda can to take a sip - hoping that your lack of interest would deter him but little did you know it would only fuel his desire more.
"You like this bands music?" he motioned toward the stage with his chin and slowly, you followed his gaze back to Toby, who had his back turned as he continued to play with no knowledge of what was happening behind him. You wanted him to turn around, you were begging for him to turn around as selfish as it seemed. "They sound like shit." Quickly, your head snapped around to shoot him a glare and his smirk widened into a grin at your reaction.
"Then why are you here?" you retorted back, raising a brow. You moved to create some distance, turning your shoulder to face him. Hopefully then he would get the hint. But he didn't and his hand moved to your hip, gripping at the bone and using the fabric of your pants to tug you closer, little regard or care in terms to how you felt. The touch made you freeze and your stomach began to cramp. You felt trapped beneath his grip and all fight within you suddenly vanished as you felt yourself sink into his touch unwillingly. You daren't look at him because you already knew he were undressing you with his eyes, mouth becoming wet with saliva - unsure if you should vomit or hack up some spit to launch into his face. Maybe both in his face, hopefully that would get him the fuck off. "You've gone quiet, that's usually how I like them," and fuck, now you were fighting back tears as you kept your gaze on the stage before you.
And then he turned, his smile disappearing as he noticed your discomfort across the bar itself. You could see the hurt in his eyes, before anger and you could barely focus on him as he quickly raised a hand to point toward you.
"Hey, you, get the fuck off her-!" he called out and Jack's singing faltered, the music coming to a stop as the crowd turned toward you. A part of you just wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. It seemed not even being called out deterred him and quickly, the guy beside you called back out to Toby.
"Or what?!" he sneered and now Toby was shrugging off the strap from his guitar off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly onto the floor as if he hadn't just spend hundreds on the thing. The guitar clattered and the amp let out a screech in response. He was moving quick, shoving and pushing his way through the crowd until he reached you at the bar. You could hear Jack begging him not to do this, not to start another fight that would get them kicked out of the bar but Toby's anger was a fit of blind rage as he quickly moved to cuff his fists on the guys collar, slamming him back against the bar until his fist made hits against the guy's cheek. The sound of skin hitting skin was so raw next to you that you could only stand and watch as the blood began to squirt out of his mouth, decorating your cheek and Toby's knuckles with the colour.
"Dude!" Jack yelled before rushing through the crowd himself to pry Toby off the guy. His hands grabbed Toby's before he could land another punch and quickly, he was dragging the brunette back in an attempt to break up the fight. Though, you wouldn't even call that a fight, Toby was going to kill that man and now he was slumped against the bar bleeding profusely from his nose and mouth.
With a shaky breath, you exchanged a glance between the man and Toby. The bar was quiet, everyone speechless and the only sound was Toby's jagged breathing as he tried to compose himself. Shrugging Jack off him, he rolled his shoulder and promptly spat down at the man. You could see him clenching and unclenching his hand, like he was fighting with himself to not land more hits. This wasn't the first time Toby had done this, he'd beaten up way too many guys for you, gotten into way too many fights for you and you knew deep down, despite how it made you feel; he couldn't keep doing this. Not for you, anyone but you. Toby was avoiding your gaze because you could see from his glossy, brown eyes that he wanted to cry. He wanted to cry because he hated violence and yet, he couldn't stop committing it. A part of you ached to reach out, to touch him and just as you were about to, his gaze finally met yours and quickly, he squeezed his eyes shut before shaking his head. He turned on his heel to push back through the crowd, that now quickly parted for him as he left through the same hall you both entered from.
You were in a state of shock and dismay as you turned to Jack for some sort of answer, but he could only purse his lips as he glanced down at the man coughing and spluttering blood as he came to. What a fucking mess and quickly, you followed behind Toby in an attempt to catch up to him.
Behind, you could hear Jack desperately trying to fix things with the bar owner but right now that wasn't a concern as you spun around the corner to march down the hall. As you paced down the hall, you were biting back your own tears as you quickly reached the door that lead to the carpark outside. Pushing open the door with your elbow, you rapidly look around in a desperate attempt to find him. Finally, you caught sight of him by his truck, smoking a cigarette with shaky hands, knuckles stained red and his cheeks red as if he had been crying. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable; your heart broke and slowly, you approached him cautiously.
"Toby-"
"You know, I don't-don't understand y-you-!" he exclaimed, jabbing a finger in your direction. You stopped in your tracks, heart pounding against your ribcage. "I don't fucking understand you-!" Toby began to pace, inhaling a sharp hit from his cigarette and moving to run his hand through his hair.
"What do you mean-?" you whispered softly, watching him cautiously like he were.. some kind of danger to you.
"I don't ss-ssee you in months, you ignore my messages, my c-calls- you p-pretend I don't exist, I don't understand you!" he repeated those words again with a bit more hurt, storming up toward you and looming over you, leaving you no choice but to look up at him.
"Look, I'm sorry-" you choked out and before you knew it, you were sobbing. Upon seeing your tears, Toby scoffed and forced himself to look away because he knew that seeing you cry like this would made him crumble.
"Sorry," he scoffed, cutting you off with a sharp shake of his head in disbelief. "You don't get it, d-do you?" he uttered, moving a hand up to jab you sharply in your temple - as if he were trying to make you understand. "I missed you," he spoke softly this time and his finger jabbed with each word, pronouncing how he felt more in regards to all of this and suddenly, the guilt that had already been chewing away at you had swallowed you whole. Avoiding his gaze, all you could do were look down in shame; shame of letting it get this far.
His heart broke at the sight of you and quickly, he tilted your chin up again to thrust his cigarette into your mouth. You took it with no fight, lips parting to hold the stick steady between them.
"You know you have me, right?" he mumbled, gently caressing your cheekbone lovingly.
A touch he had done so often, a touch he knew you loved. He sucked in through his teeth and gave a soft tut.
"Look at you, s-silly girl," he uttered softly, cupping your cheeks in the palms of his hand. "Stop crying," he scolded though his words carried no harshness to them.
"Toby," you grumbled past the cigarette, but he shook his head.
"No, don't 'Toby' m-me," he mocked you there, mocking the way you said his name and it was hard to not smile as you suddenly let out a chuckle. "You know I love you, right?" It was there his words wavered, like he wanted to cry; like the idea of loving you brought him to tears and in that moment you couldn't blame him. Just before you could open your mouth to speak, he snatched up the neglected cigarette that lingered between your lips and put them back between his own. "Come on, I'll drive you h-home."
"Take me back to yours." He froze and you froze too because you didn't expect those words to come out of your mouth, they came out without much thought and slowly, he turned back to face you. You both weren't stupid, you both knew what those words meant. Going back to Toby's wasn't just going back to hang out and smoke with him, going back usually implied something else, something more darker and with the hint of want in your tone, he knew what you meant by those very words alone. His lips pursed because he was at inner turmoil with himself, wanting to give you something that you both craved and wanting to push aside those very feelings that were hurting him. Deep down, Toby couldn't not deny you this though because he knew he could make you feel good, make you feel things that you'd try so hard to forget about.
Both stuck in silence for a moment, he licked his lips wet and just gave a short nod. "Alright."
The drive back was the same as the one to the bar. Thankfully, he had gathered his things before the two of you left and even better, he left before the cops arrived to take statements. You had the idea to glance over at his guitar, just to make sure it hadn't broken in his fit of fury and thankfully, it hadn't - otherwise you would've given him the money for a new one despite his protests. It was late and the roads were quiet, which made the drive back to his apartment a lot quicker than expected. He'd stopped off at the gas station for cigarettes, though you wouldn't be much surprised if he used that excuse to buy condoms. Then eventually, after a painstakingly quiet drive, you arrived back at his apartment. It was run down and you were pretty sure the rent cost nothing but a fart, but either way, you were thankful he had a place he could call home - despite the lack of furniture and the amount of times the roof leaked during the rainy months.
As you stepped up the stairs behind him, he pushed the door open and held it for you, allowing you to step in. It was a typical mans apartment, it was a mess, stunk of weed and stale cigarettes and there were pizza boxes piled up by the couch that sat in the corner of the living space. His TV, which was small but did the job. There was an Xbox sat beside the TV and for the living space, that was it. Of course, there was his bathroom and bed in his bedroom - but this guy seriously lacked furniture. He'd mentioned that Lyra offered to give him some stuff, people that were willing to come by from church to help assemble it, but Toby figured they'd probably drop on their knees and start repenting their sins if they smelled the weed he'd been smoking freely.
Glancing over your shoulder, he was already shuffling in himself. You'd only just taken now to acknowledge how tall Toby is in comparison to you, man towered over you and as much as you hated to think it; he could overpower you with ease.
"You hungry?" he asked, shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it on the floor carelessly. You took another look around the apartment and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shuffle awkwardly. It wasn't tall the time he got nervous around you, perhaps he thought you were judging? Blinking your gaze away, you turned to shoot him a soft smile.
"Uh, a little," you admitted, crossing your arms over your chest. You noticed the way his gaze flickered momentarily on your breasts, the way that squeezed together as you crossed your arms and trying to brush it off nonchalantly, he shrugged.
"I don't have much," Toby admitted sheepishly before moving to his kitchen, which was an open space connected to his living space. Slowly, you followed, resting your hip on the side of his counter. Your gaze faltered over to his knuckles, which were still bloodied and bruised just ever so slightly.
"You should clean up," you suggested, motioning to his knuckles with a wave of your hand. Toby glanced down, flexing and un-flexing his hand before giving a nod.
"Yeah, probably," then slowly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, admiring your features in the dim lighting of his kitchen. The plumpness of your lips, the curve of your shoulder, defined nose. There was a tension between the two of you, a tension that crackled and that familiar feeling of butterflies began to erupt within your stomach. You shrugged it off as hunger pain, clutching at your stomach and quickly, he straightened. "I make mean peanut bb-b-butter and jelly ss-sandwiches," he suggested, pulling his gaze away with restraint to look down at the counter below him. You hummed a chuckle.
"Alright, but let me clean you up first." Thankfully, you knew the layout of his apartment pretty well and you moved to the bathroom to retrieve some tissue. Wrapping it around your hand, you came back and wet it under the kitchen sink before slowly shuffling by his side. Being so close to him allowed you to smell his cologne, a scent to strong that you wanted to bury your nose in his chest and take a deep inhale. Holding yourself back, you reached out and took his large hand within your own. His hands were calloused a little, mostly from him hitting the gym and the veins on the top of his hand stuck out - a nurses wet dream and yours too. Shooting him a soft smile, a smile that reassured him that he'd be okay, you gently began to wipe the dried blood out of the patterns within his skin and knuckles. Thankfully his knuckles weren't too damaged, but they were bruised. Occasionally his hand would flex, mostly out of reflex and he'd twitch, his fingers wrapping around yours briefly as you tended to him. A type of care that made him love you, a touch that made his skin prickle and leaving him aching to want more. As you continued to clean and inspect, his eyes remained on you. You were even more beautiful up close.
"You know," he began, clearing his throat awkwardly but keeping the eye contact. "I could make you feel good."
And it was there your actions paused, brows twitching in a mix of confusion and want. You knew what his words implied, you knew what he longed to do to you and you found your throat go dry at the thought of it. You hadn't fucked him in so long, hadn't fucked anyone in so long and Toby was - well - hung. Not wanting to leave that in the air, you forced a dry chuckle from your throat before looking up at him. A part of you expected him to be grinning, teasing you but no, he was serious about this. He wanted you. All those months of being ignored, ghosted, aching and longing for you - it had caught up to him and fuck, that look said it all. A look of 'let me make you feel good for tonight. Let me convince you to be mine.' Toby knew he could fuck you silly, fuck you like no other and as much as you hated to admit it, you knew it too.
Before you opened your mouth to speak, his hand moved and quickly his fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you toward his chest with little effort. Toby had to duck down a little to let his lips meet yours, his touch and kiss eager. You faltered, but the shock subsided almost instantly as soon as you felt his lips against yours. An action that felt so wrong and yet so right, a drug that you couldn't stop falling back to no matter what. How could you deny a man the very thing he's been aching for? God, how many pictures of his cock had you forced yourself to ignore? Because it wasn't just his company that made you keep falling back to him, no, it was the way he'd punch any guy for you, the way he touched you, ensuring he mapped every part of your body and keeping it locked forever in his mind. Because Toby wanted you more than want itself, he wanted to devour you. He'd had enough of the ghosting, he'd had enough of jacking off at the thought of you.
The sodden, bloodied tissue fell from your grasp as you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck and it was there his hands moved to cup each cheek of your ass. The man lifted you with a gentle grunt and your legs wrapped on instinct around his hips, locking in like a perfect puzzle piece. His kisses were eager, to the point where you felt as if his stubble was beginning to rub your cheek and chin raw from the intensity of his love. Toby forced his tongue on your mouth, lapping his own tongue helplessly over your own as he stumbled backward, down the hall to his bedroom. Your mind was a haze, a cloud that you couldn't shake yourself from as your hands trailed up the back of his neck and through the mess of his brunette hair. A part of you wanted to pull, to tug softly, to encourage him that you wanted this too - but hell with it, he knew that already.
As he stepped down the hall, his hard cock brushed against your cunt with each step, a step that left you shivering for more. Toby fucked good because his cock was big, another perfect thing about him and even through the fabric of both your pants', you found yourself already aching for him to fill you in more ways than you could imagine. His steps to the bedroom were sloppy and he stumbled as he quickly tossed you onto the bed, quick to yank off his shirt before dropping to his knees at the end of the bed. You sat up on your elbows, chest heaving softly as you tried to catch your breath - watching him closely with anticipation on what he would do.
"Off," was all he had to say, motioning to your pants and before you could even follow his gaze, your hands were already moving to unbutton them. Apparently, you weren't fast enough and he sat up briefly to curl his fingers around the hem of your pants, suddenly yanking them off and down your legs - making sure he caught your underwear with them. As he stripped you, he left you bare aside from your shirt and the cold nipped at your skin - leaving ripples across your legs. A part of you were unsure if you were shivering because you were so fucking horny or if you were actually cold; though right now you couldn't find much of a thought to care. It was there Toby leant back on his calves, admiring you with his hands flat on the bed to steady himself. His gaze trailed over your bare hip and slowly, he trailed one hand across the bedsheet to gently caress your ankle. His fingers wrapped around your ankle, his thumb grazing over the bone on your ankle lovingly. This man could appreciate you and some, in fact, he'd worship your body if it killed him. Being so bare in front of him had, rightfully so, made you rather shy and on instinct, you kept your legs closed in some attempt for some privacy.
He noticed this, of course he noticed this and his eyes faltered up your legs before meeting yours. Those brown, puppy dog eyes. There was so much you wanted to say but you knew right now, that saying nothing was better. Shit, you wanted to beg him to just fuck you until you were sobbing, to fuck you until you couldn't stand and be forced to stay in his bed for the rest of eternity; but your look said that all and he just gave a soft, amused exhale of air at the sight of you.
"I haven't even touched you or f-ffucked you yet," he said softly, hand moving from up your ankle to slowly caress your own calve. Your shoulders shuddered at the touch and you let out a soft exhale yourself, head tilting to the side as you watched him slowly. "And shit.. I want to." Despite it all, despite all the other hook ups with him, he still wanted your consent - to ensure he wasn't forcing or pressuring you to do something that you wouldn't enjoy.
"Please," you breathed out softly and Toby just sat, lingering by the end of the bed, watching you. His skin prickled itself at just the sound of your voice, the evident of want in the way you begged him softly to fuck you. It was wrong because he shouldn't fuck you, because he'd known you for so long that it felt like he was almost taking advantage of you and the friendship you both had. But your voice, he almost felt himself come at the sound of that alone.
"Open your legs for me, please?" he uttered softly, moving up the bed to gently rub his cheek against the same ankle he had been touching previously. Slowly, he peppered soft kisses up your leg, moving up the bed and taking the feel of the mattress beneath him to his advantage to get some attention to his aching cock. As his lips moved further, your legs opened wider for him, granting him the access he had been pleading for with his eyes. You opened them wide enough until his body fit between your legs, until his kisses stopped just at your bikini line and it was there you felt his hot breath against your cunt. Almost on impulse, your head lulled back in delight until you felt your elbows falling beneath your weight; laying flat on your back. You could feel his smirk, the way he had you reacting and he wasn't even giving you the gift of eating you out yet.
His hand that had been sliding up your leg moved to lay flat on your hip, holding you there for a moment and appreciating the softness of your skin until he moved it closer to your cunt. Gently and almost teasingly, he thumbed your clit slowly. Giving it the attention it had been aching, rolling his thumb slowly over the sensitive bud and treating it as if it were his Xbox controller itself or like some fucking joystick. He praised your pussy, not by sight alone, but by touch and now taste. Suddenly, his mouth engulfed you whole, tongue licking a strip up between your folds. Appreciating how wet you were and how you tasted, a soft hum in delight emitting from him. Toby would trail his tongue up slowly, painstakingly slow before gently sucking softly on your clit that left you writhing for more on the bed beneath him. He took his time, appreciating you as he should, giving and touching you in any way a man should. The sex wasn't for him, it was for you, it was always for you because nothing turned him on more at the idea of getting you off alone. As he sucked softly on your clit, enough to get you just almost on the verge of an orgasm already, his tongue moved down back between your folds to taste more of that deliciousness that was seeping out of you.
Your taste was a taste he couldn't begin to describe, a taste that frankly, should be illegal. Equivalent of drugs, no, worse. It got him so high that he ate your pussy in a way that nobody else ever had. His tongue praised you, licked and lapped at all the right spots. Toby wouldn't care if you were bleeding, he doesn't care how hairy you are and frankly, the idea of burying his nose into your pubes aroused him more than he cared to admit.
Toby ate your cunt like it were his last meal, like he were a starved man and he gave your clit just enough attention it deserved before he focused on lapping at your taste, occasionally sucking on each fold before moving to suckle back on your clit with just enough care and love. He would admit it proudly, that he was a greedy, selfish man because no other should taste how amazing you are. You could be his, he just wanted to prove it to you.
As you felt yourself arch into the mattress, Toby continued to work, the sounds of him greedily eating you out filling the air. The noises sloppy and wet. Your chest was heaving as you tried to focus on each move he made, as you tried to burn this feeling into your memory so that you would never forget that magic his tongue made you feel. Your fingers gingerly tugged softly on the strands of his hair and with slight reluctance, you craned your head up and down to see him staring straight back at you. You almost collapsed back onto the mattress at the sight alone. Unable to contain yourself, you'd occasionally push his head down onto your clit and helplessly ride his tongue, grinding up so that you could meet your sweet orgasm that would leave you trembling and sodden on his bedsheets. Toby wasn't stupid, he knew this and slowly, his hand moved from your hip to the underside of your leg. He pushed it upwards, allowing him further access of your sweet pussy and ever so slowly, he pushed in one index finger.
The feeling itself made you see stars and you gasped out, your previous muffled moans now increasing as he steadily pumped his finger in you; his tongue giving your clit attention. You hadn't been fucked in so long that his index finger felt uncomfortable at first, though his tongue soothed the pain and helped ride it out, the pain and pleasure becoming a beautiful mix that was beginning to become intoxicating. As his tongue continued to lick and his lips suckled softly on your clit, you were practically shoving his face into your cunt at an alarming rate as you began to feel the urge of your orgasm come fast approaching. You rode his tongue like your life depended on it now, his large hands coming up and around your thighs to squeeze them softly in encouragement.
"I'm going to cum- I'm going-!" you gasped out helplessly as you suddenly hit your euphoria, throwing your head back and riding out the after waves of your orgasm on his tongue. Admittedly, your mouth felt dry from the amount of moaning and gasping you were doing, but you had no care for that now as you felt your body twitch in response to your high. Despite reaching your orgasm, Toby didn't stop, pushing you over your limits and making you feel overstimulated within seconds. "Stop- stop-" you gasped softly, tugging on his hair to pull his mouth away from your soaked cunt. He obeyed, after giving your clit a couple of gentle kisses before sitting up on the palm of his hands. There was a string of saliva that was still attached from his lower lip and your cunt, hanging between the two and mocking you almost as you peeked one eye open to look over at him. Toby grinned, moving to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. You could see his stubble was glistening from your orgasm but as much as you flustered, you pushed the embarrassment aside. "Please, just fuck me," you croaked softly, voice barely a hoarse whisper as Toby tilted his head and moved up so that he was now hovering over on top of you. His hand trailed up your waist, appreciating your side before his fingers slipped up and under your shirt to squeeze and palm your breast.
"Get undressed then," he uttered softly, moving himself to his bedside table. As he busied himself with a condom, you pulled yourself up slowly and began to undress yourself. It didn't take you long to discard the shirt, along with the bra, leaving you naked and vulnerable to his hungry eyes.
No time was left as Toby crawled back between your legs, moving to bury his head in the crook of your neck. He lingered there for a moment, like he was just relishing in your scent alone until he began to pepper soft kisses against the skin of your neck. The rush of sex was great at times, but it were the moments of just taking the time to appreciate each other that he loved more. His lips moved from your collarbone, to the curve of your jaw before he stopped just below your earlobe. His breath was hot, inviting and you wrapped your arms back around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer.
"Wrap your legs around me," he whispered softly in your ear and you obeyed, moving to wrap your legs just above his hips and locking them in place with your feet. Slowly, he left one lingering kiss against your neck once again before moving to push his cock inside you. His hips faltered for a moment, like he were reminding himself to be gentle with you and slowly, he pushed in until he was fully buried up in your core. You could feel his own pubes brush against your pubic bone, tickling you softly as you found yourself struggling to adjust to his size. It was true in that you hadn't fucked him in so long and despite not being a virgin, you felt like one. He noticed your staggered breathing, the way you sucked in a sharp intake to try and steady yourself and slowly, he soothed you by peppering those same kisses on your neck once again. Toby was careful to not move, not until you gave him the signal to, whether that be pulling his hair or squeezing his shoulder and frankly - he wouldn't care if it took you ten minutes or twenty. He was a patient man, lord only knows.
After a moment, you nodded gently against his shoulder.
"I'm okay," you reassured softly, though your words did not seem very convincing and he hesitated to move his hips. Gently, you moved a hand from down his shoulder, around the curve until you stopped at his large bicep - giving it a gentle squeeze. With a gentle nod, he began to move his hips, thrusting like some kind of hound. You could tell he were holding back, you could tell from the way he was holding onto you like you were some sort of vice. You weren't complaining about the pace though, he felt heavenly despite the protective layer of the condom. His cock filled you in all the right places, the head just stroking your walls with each trust that sent flutters in your lower abdomen. This gentleness was more than good, it was pure and had all the right intentions, but with a gentle squeeze of your legs around his hips - his pace quickened. Toby understood what that meant and he wasn't about to deny a woman another orgasm, let alone his own.
Skin slapped against skin as he began to fuck you like a damned dog, guiding you down on his cock with each thrust, with his hands that wrapped around you like he were afraid of letting go. Your pussy hugged and squeezed him in ways he couldn't imagine, ways that actually, truth be told, felt illegal. Toby fucked you like a lost, desperate man, his hot breath and sticky forehead against your shoulder and collarbone as he grunted and groaned softly into your skin. The bedframe beneath you rocked and creaked with each thrust, a threat that it might even break. Right now, that wasn't a concern and just as you were about to utter soft words of encouragement, Toby's hips faltered and he suddenly sat up. He broke no sweat dragging you up with him until he were kneeling back on his calves again, keeping your legs secured around his hips as he fucked up into you; making sure to keep that eye contact as you crumbled atop of him now.
The both of you had spent so many nights together like this that it didn't phase you anymore, it didn't phase you when he fucked you like a mutt in heat to then forget about it the next day. It was a night of sin that you two would occasionally find yourselves in and yet, this time it just felt so different. So charged, like for once there was a deeper meaning behind this sex, that it wasn't just sex - it was something else entirely.
Toby's hand moved to the back of your neck, his other arm secured around your waist to keep you steady as he used the back of your neck to almost guide you down onto his cock with each thrust up. Did this position fuck you up in all the right ways, your hands squeezing his shoulders until eventually you found your nails embedding into his skin. Toby had no time to notice you were close because by the time he did, you were already squirting over his already soaked cock. Admittedly, he wasn't expecting it himself and he raised a brow, glancing down at his wet thighs and bedsheets as he continued to pound into you.
"You feel so.. ff-f-ffucking good-" his words slurred even more whenever he did fuck you, his brain already being a mess that it only further impacted his speech. His hand that had captured the back of your neck moved, letting his fingers move between the strands of your hair and it was there he forced your head toward his; imprisoning your lips back against his own. Kissing you was just a feeble attempt to mute his own moans as he felt himself chase his own orgasm, the movements of his hips becoming so messy that it was hard to even keep up in terms of your high. The man before you was becoming a mess and before he could find himself uttering another praise against your lips, you suddenly felt his cock twitch and stutter inside you as he reached his own orgasm. As much as he tried to bite back his moans, he couldn't and the sound that came from him was guttural; sending shockwaves throughout your own system as his thrusting came to a steady stop. The brunette was panting against your collarbone, forehead rested on your shoulder as he caught his breath and calmed down from his own high.
The both of you remained there for a moment, perhaps trying to process what had just unfolded tonight. More questions came than answers that night, questions and answers you both ached to ask and answer. Was it truly more than sex? Could you find yourself falling in love with Toby or would that barrier always be there between the two of you. Maybe you could convince Toby to leave this small, shitty town; the both of you getting away and finding somewhere where maybe your love can feel right. But deep down, Toby would never leave. Even if the memories of his childhood tormented him, even if his mother became more mad with each passing day. Because Toby had a responsibility, one he couldn't abandon and asking him to leave would be too much.
"I love you, you know that, right?" His voice broke the silence and you glanced up, seeing his hopeful, puppy-dog eyes looking back into yours and admittedly, your heart ached.
"I know," you whispered softly, moving one of your hands to cup his cheek. Toby leant into your touch like he were starved from it, closing his eyes momentarily to embrace the warmth of your palm.
"So, please love me back," he begged softly and it wasn't often he did. Your lips pursed, because how could you answer that? Honestly, you were pissed Toby would do this to you now. Gently, you escaped his grasp and tugged at the covers until they covered your frame and you watched his shoulders sag in disappointment. Though, he made no motion to argue, just standing to take care of himself and the pretty full condom.
You watched softly as he padded into the bathroom and the sound of running water began to fill the silence, leaving you in that cloud of guilt again. What was wrong with you? Any other girl would jump at the opportunity like Toby and you'd be so fucking pissed if they did and you lost him. So, why not just love him? Maybe because the idea of a relationship with him would change things? Because deep down, you just enjoyed the friendship you two had and that perhaps dating one another would change things in more way than one. In this moment, you felt awful, so much so, that you wanted to pick up your clothes and just leave. If Toby could pluck the moon from the sky, he would for you, if you told him to rob a bank for you, he'd sure as shit try - so what was the big deal? That was something not even yourself could answer as you sat pondering in bed.
Eventually, Toby reappeared, moving to tug on the same clothes he had so easily discarded beforehand before turning to face you. He wasn't pissed, wasn't mad, he never could be at you.
"I'll make that mm-mean ass peanut butter and jelly s-sandwich, okay?" he suggested with a smile, moving back to the door with shirt in hand. You could only shoot him a smile before nodding, you were pretty hungry and it was late.
"Toby?" you quickly called out, watching his figure stop just down the hall to turn to you.
"That's my name," he confirmed softly, brow raised. "What's up?"
"I love you."
I am unfortunately in my flop era and I hate this so much. Probably one of my worst writings but trying to not be so hard on myself considering I haven't actually sat down and written anything in half a year. Anyway, I love him.
Summary: Itâs all fun and games living alone, until you start to feel like youâre being watched, and a face appears in your window.
Warnings: SMUT, Toby is a peeping tom, slight dub-con, degradation, pure porn no plot LOL
Living alone was fun, right?
âŚRight?
You liked living alone. It was quiet, peaceful and different. Different from what you were used to, at least, not being bothered by the sheer chaos and disorder which you had grown accustomed to.
You had just gotten used to being alone, the quiet and calmness of just your own company. Finally getting used to not shutting your bedroom door when you were getting changed, fearing that one of your brothers would come barging in to show you a funny TikTok on his phone. Getting used to being able to leave the house on time for work, not getting held up by your sister dawdling in the bathroom when you needed to brush your teeth.
Alone.
Well, thatâs what you thought, at least for a while. Thatâs what made it all the more confusing, all the more unsettling, when suddenly⌠You didnât feel quite so alone anymore. You were often awoken by the strange noises outside your window that seemed a little bit too⌠Well, unnatural. Not the usual sound of, say, a stray cat prowling outside on your window ledge, or a squirrel flitting around foraging for food. It was more unnerving, hearing the faint crunch of leaves under someoneâs boots, or bushes and trees rustling wildly when there didnât seem to be any wind. You figured you must be imagining this, right? Paranoia, isnât it?
It must be⌠right?
You had returned home from work a little over an hour ago, and were getting ready to go to bed. You pulled your top over your head, and quickly unbuttoned your jeans, shoving them down your legs and stepping out of them. You stretched out your back and reached behind you, unclipping your bra and discarding it somewhere on the floor. You hummed absentmindedly as you pulled your pyjama top over your head and stepped into some shorts, pulling them up around your hips.
Thatâs when you saw it. A mere blur from the corner of your eye. You froze, trying to let your brain catch up and force itself to react, it screamed at you to run, hide, do something, but your body remained still, firm in its spot. The unmistakable shiver as your skin pricked with goosebumps. Fearful as it was, your brain was telling you to just look one more time. And you did, your own eyes hesitating to move an inch further than the wall beside the window. When they eventually cooperated, landing on the rain-spotted pane, your own terrified expression stared back at you. You tried regaining focus, not on your own reflection, but what was beyond the glass.
And there it was.
A face.
Well, some of a face. The lower half was obscured by fabric. But there it was, the indisputable gleam of eyes. Human eyes. Brown, terrifying, mesmerizing eyes. Your mouth opened in an attempt to scream, the instinctual human urge to alert someone, anyone, but all that materialized was a strangled cry. You felt every hair on your body stand on end, the alarm bells in your head kicking in. Pick one, fight, flight or freeze, fight, flight or freeze. The eyes remained locked on your own, and finally, your brain sent a jolt down to your legs. RUN.
The back door was the first port-of-call, the closest entrance. Almost being slammed into as you kept tripping over your own feet in haste to reach it, the handle rattled as you shook it, making sure it was locked. There was no time to be relieved, immediately taking off for the front door in your panic-stricken state. You didnât even glance at the window on your way past it, too busy letting your brain spiral into anxiety. The rough carpet felt like it was grabbing onto your feet, slowing you down. The sound of rain pattering against the window was being drowned out by the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears.
You smashed into the front door with a thud, not even thinking to slow down, not even bothering about the bruising pain in your shoulder. It suddenly pushed you backwards, the keys jangling in the lock as you and whoever was behind it pushed it back and forth between eachother. Your feet squeaked against the floor as the door was slowly being forced open, desperately trying to flatten your heels on the floor to stable yourself. But it was no use, they were far too strong, and had caught you so off guard that you were struggling to shove it back closed on them.
You tried to keep them from gaining access, using your whole body weight to push the door back shut, when a hand pushed through the growing gap between the door and the frame. It felt around, slamming on your side of the door, like it were trying to find something, or grab ahold of something. You shifted along the door to avoid it, keeping all your strength on holding your ground. You could hear them grunting and puffing on the other side, and your head began to pulse due to all the strain, and your muscles began to ache.
Then he spoke, in the most taunting voice,
âJust let me in,â He cooed, almost in a sing-song voice, âYouâre going to end up get-getting hurt, sweetheart. Donât want that, d-nghh d-do we?â
Your stomach lurched, but you kept firm, not faltering in your position. You could hear a frustrated huff from the other side of the door.
âAll right, then. Have it your w-way.â He said, and his hand retreated back through the gap, his hold on the door weakened, making you stumble and get thrown off-balance, but before you could figure out what he was doing, the door was swung open with such a force it knocked you sideways. You gasped as you slammed into the wall, every last ounce of air being punched from your lungs. You coughed and spluttered as he bullied his way through the threshold and slammed the door shut behind him. He towered over you, overshadowed you, and you couldnât bring yourself to look up at him. You kept your gaze focused on his scuffed up boots. They were covered in dirt and were very worn.
Suddenly, he crouched, and you could feel his gaze burning into the top of your head. You noticed he would tic, his head jerking to the side furiously.
âT-t-Fuck-told ya,â He laughed, âDidnât wanna hurt y-you, yâknow.â His voice was shockingly soft, wasnât scary sounding. You noticed him jerking his head to the side as he swore. But you didnât dare look up at him. You kept your head down, willing yourself not to cry or show that you were scared, so fucking terrified that you felt you could pass out.
You finally started to regain your breath, and went to retaliate, tell him to fuck off, ask him why heâs doing this? Finally, you found the courage to look up at him. The second you met his eyes, the words died in your mouth. Those eyes, the ones you saw in the window, were staring curiously back at you. He tilted his head, not breaking eye contact. You couldnât see the rest of his face, but those eyes, God, those eyes. His messy brown hair fell over his forehead, some of it slightly pushed back behind the pair of orange goggles resting on his head. âWhat is it? H-huh? Cat got your tongue?â
You swallowed thickly, still feeling vulnerable and very much frightened. âWho..? I⌠wha- Why?â You pleaded, your own eyes searching his for a shred of humanity, and his remained fixed on you, boring into you. âWhy are you doing this?â
He didnât respond immediately, but instead reached out and took your jaw in a firm grip, two of his fingers grasping the underside of your jaw, and his thumb pressed into your chin. He pulled you in ever-so-slightly, his breath heating your face, even through the fabric covering his lips and nose. He forced your face to the side, his fingers remained locked onto you. He was studying you, his eyes flicked from your eyes, to your nose, to your trembling lips.
âS-sâpretty.â He whispered, sounding almost awe-struck, and finally his grip loosened. You let out a breath you didnât even know you were holding, and turned your head back to face him. The fabric near his lips wrinkled, like he was smiling. âSo much be-be-Fuck-better up close.â His head and shoulder jerked wildly as he spoke, and he looked at you with a strange softness, it made your stomach flip. You could feel your heart in your throat, and let out a terrified whimper.
âOh. N-no, no.â he muttered, raising a hand to wipe at some stray tears you didnât notice had started to fall. âDonât cry, pretty g-girl. Iâm not going to hurt you.â He spoke gently, but his voice had an edge that sent shivers down your spine. His hand remained on your face, his wrist turned so that his knuckles brushed against your cheek. His other hand gripped your bicep and he forced you up with him as he stood, keeping you balanced with his iron-force hold. You forced your head down, not wanting to look at him any longer.
âWhatâs this? Donât act a-all shy, now.â He teased, ducking his head down at an angle, so that he could look at your face. âW-wasnât so when you were p-puttinâ on all those little shows for me.â Your stomach dropped, your brain working into a frenzy. Shows? What shows? Then it clicked, heâs been watching you this entire time. Watching you sleep, watching you undress. You involuntarily blushed, your own hormones betraying you as that familiar heat started to spread down your abdomen, into your core. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lower lip, clenching your thighs together. He straightened up and his chest rumbled with a knowing laugh.
âY-yeah, you like that, donât you?â He growled, catching your eyes as you forced yourself to look back up at him. âLike beinâ peeped on, donâtcha?â You let out a shaky breath, and shook your head dishonestly, feeling disdain towards yourself for actually getting turned on by this. He shook his head simultaneously, mocking your own movement. âD-dirty little liar,â he crooned, âcan feel the f-f-fuckinâ heat radiatinâ offa you.â He jerked again, his neck making a popping noise. He was right, you could feel your skin heating up and becoming tacky with a thin sheen of sweat, could feel the heat pooling in your cunt as it became sticky with slick.
His hand trailed down your arm and shifted to your hip, he leaned down and pushed his face into the crook of your neck, his other hand reached up and pulled the fabric covering his face down slightly so that his nose was exposed. He worked his way down your thigh, his fingers brushing daringly close to your pulsing heat. And he breathed in deeply, taking in your scent, feeling your hammering pulse against his nose. He bit down gently on your neck, the feeling dulled by the fabric still covering his mouth. You let out a breathless moan, feeling so overwhelmed and confused by how you were feeling. You were still scared shitless, but also turned on and undeniably vulnerable.
His head jerked again, his nose grazing your neck. He groaned, moving so that his hands snaked round and pressed flat to your lower back, pulling you in close to him, he grinned underneath his face-covering, noting your lack of resistance, and you could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the glaring stiffness in his jeans as he instinctively bucked his hips at the contact with your belly.
He forced his hand between your bodies, sliding it down and past your waistband. His hands were calloused and rough against the soft skin of your lower belly and pelvis as he dipped into your underwear. You let out a gasp as his fingers slid down into your wet folds, spreading your slick around your swollen lips. He let out a sharp breath and his hand jerked involuntarily, brushing against your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned, one hand reaching round his waist and gripping at the fabric of his hooded jacket.
âFuck, you fuckinâ want this, donât you?â He muttered, face still pressed into your neck. âCan fuckinâ feel itâŚCan practically fuckinâ t-t-taste it.â You whined as he pressed firmly on your clit, then slid his fingers back through your folds, gathering your wetness. âSo fuckinâ wet. Does it feel good? Gettinâ fingered by some random guy that broke into your hou-house?â
You bit your lip, feeling shame and disgusted with yourself. He was right, you shouldnât be enjoying this, shouldnât have been so willing to let this man start touching you the way he was. But it felt so good, so right, the way he was circling your clit with his fingers covered in your arousal. Felt so good when he started to ease one of his fingers into your needy hole. You breathe out heavily as he inserts another, making scissoring motions with his fingers as you clench around them. âSuch a t-tight little cunt,â he taunts, now curling his fingers in a come-hither motion, nudging at a sensitive spot inside of you, âfuckinâ grippinâ mâfingers.â
You feel that pressure building in your belly as he fingers into you faster, you whine and grip at him desperately, about to finally reach your release when he slips them out of you with a wet pop. You groan pathetically, panting like a tired dog. He pulled his hand from your underwear, his fingers and knuckles drenched with your juices. He looked at them with an amused glint in his eye, and holds them in front of your lips. âLick it off.â You scoffed and furrowed your brow, but were in no position to argue with him, so you obey, parting your lips so he can shove his fingers into your mouth. He pressed them flat against your tongue, seemingly waiting for you to start sucking.
You lapped and sucked your own arousal from his fingers, getting annoyingly more turned on as he praised you for being so obedient. âG-good. Thatâs it, lick it up. Such a good g-g-girl.â You could feel the heat on your cheeks, humiliated and embarrassed as he watched you. He retracted his fingers, and gripped your hip firmly, pulling you flush against him again. The hardness in his jeans seemed even more strained, as he gently rutted against your belly. Your head drooped, pressing against his chest and he groaned, one hand reaching up to tangle in your hair and pull your head back. âGonna fuck youâŚâ he breathed, âg-gonna fill you up so good, my cumâll be leakinâ outta you for d-days.â
The thought of it made you moan gently, and you locked eyes with him. His were dark and penetrating your own, and you couldnât help but feel yourself go rouge. His eyes were so beautiful, you wondered what the rest of his face looked like, but you were certain he was cute. You mentally sighed at yourself, how could you even think that? He broke into your house and just fingered you into a dripping mess.
âYeah, you want that, donât you? Look at you, s-s-Fuck-sittinâ there thinkinâ about it.â His head jerks again, but he doesnât give you time to respond before he reaches down and grips below your ass, pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and you bury your face in the crook of your elbow, noticing the hard, pulsing heat against the bottom of your ass. He manoeuvres through into your living room, and lowers you onto your couch, still holding you, now hovering over you. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, still muffled by the fabric but his nose is now visible, its lightly dusted with freckles and you can see he has facial hair creeping up the side of his face.
He dipped his head down and pushed his covered lips and nose against your ear, as his hand made work on pulling your shorts and underwear off. He breathes heavily and he presses his hips down heavily onto yours, pinning you, pressing his pulsing cock onto you. Heâs turning you on so much you canât help but desperately grind your hips up into him, you struggled as his weight bears down on you, but he seems as desperate as you are, and thrusts his hips feverishly.
âWanna hear you scream my n-name as I fuckinâ pound you. Itâs T-Toby, got it? Toby.â He said breathlessly, almost mindlessly as he ground down onto you in haste. You nod pathetically, but that doesnât satisfy him. He gripped your jaw tightly, his other hand kept him propped up above you. âF-fuckinâ say it,â he groans, âsay it! Beg me t-to fuck you, you mindless little who-whore.â You whine, gripping at his wrist tightly, âplease, please just fuck me, please, Toby, I want it.â You mewl, your other hand trying to find the button of his jeans. He laughed darkly, taking over for your hand and unbuttoning himself. He sat up quickly, knees either side of your hips and pushed his jeans and underwear down his thighs, just above his knees.
Your eyes focus on his cock, the head swollen and leaking with arousal, it bobbed up and down slightly as he adjusted himself to lean over you again. You sighed, attempting to spread your legs out a little further but were trapped between his legs. He pressed his forehead onto your chin as he guided his cockhead through your slick folds. You inhaled sharply at the pressure on your clit, you could smell his hair, damp with sweat and a piney, woodsy fragrance like he had been outside in the forest. He groaned needily and he nudged himself into you, you could feel the stingy stretch as he pushed himself in further. You moaned loudly, out of pain and a strange pleasure as he stretched you open around him. Your legs found their way back around him, heels digging into his ass, pulling him in deeper.
âOhh, fuck,â he moaned as he bottomed out, and you felt yourself clench around him, sucking him in. âSqueezinâ me so t-tight, suckinâ me in, you greedy li-little whore.â He huffed, and started to move at a steady pace. You moaned and whined as he pulled himself out to the tip and then buried himself back into your aching cunt. He looked down, watching as he disappeared inside of you, a ring of froth curling round the base of his cock. He started to speed up, pounding into you with such fervour it rocked your entire body, you could barely manage to choke out his name in a chant.
âFuck, Toby, so fuck-fucking good,â you keened, and he looked up, as he slammed into you at a wild pace, you almost screamed as he rocked you, him holding at your hip in a bruising grip, you mindlessly raised a hand up to the fabric still covering his face, and looped your finger round the top. âWanna see you,â you panted, pulling it down to reveal his face, it dropped and hung limply around his neck. You gasped at the sight of his face, his lips were plump, the bottom one caught between his teeth and he continued to fuck you. His face was covered in brown stubble, and there was a painful looking gash in his cheek.
âY-you scared?â He pants, looking at your shocked expression, but you donât reply, getting fucked so good you could barely speak. In fact, it was actually turning you on even more, his rugged and scarred appearance making you weak at the knees. âYeah, that turning you o-on?â He whines, and moans deeply when your hand shifts to brush over his scarred face, your fingers brushing the ridges of his exposed teeth. âSuch a fucked up little slu-slut. Gettinâ off on my fucked up face as I destroy you.â He gibes, and his hips begin to stutter. Your eyes roll back as he stuffs you full, grinding his hips into you pathetically. He brings his hand to your clit, rubbing vicious circles as you shake and writhe beneath him, the knot in your stomach itching to snap.
He pulled out slowly, then rams himself in again, âGonna c-cum. Gonna fill you up.â He pounds into you desperately, like a dog in heat, the vulgar sounds of his thighs and balls slapping into your ass echoing throughout the room. You start to convulse as your orgasm washes over you, pushed over the edge by his fingers jerking against your clit. You cry out as you cum on him, his fingers sending you into overstimulation, whining out his name as you clench around him tightly, as he groans and pushes his hips into you, almost making your hips fold in half as he cums. You feel his seed shooting into you, filling you up and being held there by his pulsing cockhead blocking it from seeping out. He stays still for a moment, his head stuffed into the crook of your neck.
He stirs after a few moments and forces himself to sit up, pulling himself out of you and watching as his seed seeps out down your ass and pools onto the leather of the couch. You lay there spent, panting and sweating. Tobyâs lips twitch into a smirk, and he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pulls his jeans back up. He pulls your underwear back on for you, and you smile weakly at him. âI-I gotta go,â he mutters, âbut Iâll be b-back. Just keep that door unlocked.â He adds with a boyish laugh, and pulls his mask back over his lips. He makes his way toward the door and turns, âBathe. Youâll feel be-better.â His head jerks, and he disappears out the door with a thud.
Yo this is so long oh my god. I wrote most of this last night at like 3 am so itâs not proofread and probably has so many mistakes and a garbage plot but whatever :â)
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