idk why ive been seeing a lot of judgemental posts about certain kinds of creators in the creepypasta fandom, specifically those who write abt dark and taboo topics. the fandom is built on people who find that the stigmatisation of these things are comforting, and attempting to censor it is just..?? going against the idea of having a fandom space and writing fanfics to begin with...????
all my content will always be appropriately tagged, however if ur uncomfortable with complicated, unhealthy, and abusive dynamics, please unfollow me immediately. not only do i write to cope, but because i genuinely love what i do. dont ever feel pressured to stay if u dont like it
[i woke up with this in my head so i just had to write it]
Ghost has one weakness. It is a big, round, perfect weakness, and it’s currently arched in the air directly in front of him.
You are on your hands and knees on the bed, face pressed deep into the pillows, your back curved in a gorgeous, deep arch that presents your ass to him like an offering. The soft glow from the bedside lamp catches the slick sheen of your skin, making the two plump globes look as though they have been carved from polished ivory. It is a view that short-circuits his brain every single time.
He stands behind you, one knee resting on the mattress, his other foot braced firmly on the floor for leverage. His black balaclava is pulled up just enough to expose his mouth and jaw, creating the perfect canvas for the guttural sounds he can no longer hold back. In his hand, his phone is held steady, the red recording light a tiny, glowing eye capturing every angle.
The camera is angled flawlessly, framing the obscene sight of his heavy, flushed cock sliding across the slick valley of your ass. He isn't even inside you yet; he is merely dragging the thick, weeping head up and down, coating himself in the combined mess of your arousal and his own precum. The sight of his dick nestled against your flesh makes his balls throb with a need so acute it borders on painful.
"Fuckin' hell," he rasps, his voice a low, staticky growl through the fabric of the mask. "Look at that. Perfect fuckin' view."
He shifts his hips, pressing his cock more firmly between your cheeks, the sudden pressure forcing a whimpering gasp into the pillow. He records it all, watching the way your flesh yields to his touch and the way your body trembles in desperate anticipation. This is for his personal collection, a private stash of sin reserved for the long, lonely nights spent in dusty deployment tents and freezing barracks. When he is overseas, surrounded by the grim, violent reality of his job, he will pull up these videos to remind himself exactly what he is fighting to come home to.
Finally, the teasing becomes too much to bear. Reaching down with his free hand, he grips the base of his shaft, lining the blunt head up with your dripping entrance. The camera zooms in slightly, capturing the exact moment he presses against your tight hole.
"Simon, please," you whine, pushing backward against him, desperate for the stretch.
He grants your wish, sinking into you in one long, powerful thrust. The groan that tears from his throat is animalistic. You are so fucking tight, so burning hot, gripping him like a vise. The camera shakes for a split second as he loses himself in the sheer sensation, before his training kicks in and he steadies his grip.
The view on the screen is purely pornographic. His thick length disappears into you inch by inch, your slick lips stretched wide around him. Directly above it is the masterpiece, which is his taut, heavily tattooed stomach. The dark ink seems to shift and twist with the roll of his muscles as he begins to move. The skeletal face and the roaring skull dance in the low light as his abs contract with each deep, punishing thrust.
He establishes a relentless rhythm, snapping his hips forward until the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely in the bedroom. Each thrust drives you forward, a choked moan forced from your lungs with every impact. He fucks you deep, deliberately bottoming out against the exact spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he pants, his eyes glued entirely to the screen of his phone, watching his own cock piston into you. He cannot get enough of the visual contrast between your soft, giving body pinned beneath his hard, demanding frame, and the way your ass ripples with every heavy slam of his hips. "Takin' my cock so well, sweetheart. Such a good girl."
Leaning forward to change the angle, the new position presses the hard ridge of his lower abs flush against the swell of your backside. The camera catches it perfectly, recording the friction of his skin against yours, the slide of his cock, and the way his muscles flex and shift beneath the ink. It is a work of art, and he is the twisted artist who gets to create it over and over again.
Looking at him out in the field, no one would ever guess it. He is the stoic, silent lieutenant with eyes like chips of ice and a presence cold enough to silence a room. Simon Riley is a man of few words, a fortress of absolute control and iron discipline. But in the dark, behind locked doors, that fortress crumbles entirely, and the man who emerges is a filthy, vocal, desperate animal.
The phone is eventually forgotten, discarded onto the mattress beside you, though the red light continues to blink, recording the raw audio of your shared undoing. Simon’s hand is no longer holding the device. Instead, it is wrapped securely around your throat, a firm, possessive weight that makes your head swim. His thumb presses gently under your jawline, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
"Fuck, yes," he groans, the deep, gravelly rumble vibrating through his chest and directly into your spine. He bends over you, his sweat-slicked chest pressing hard against your back, the fabric of his shirt bunched up under his arms to expose the full expanse of his inked torso. You feel every single word as a physical vibration. "Gonna fuckin' fill you up."
His hips remain a relentless piston, the steady slap of his skin against yours drowning out every other sound. He isn't quiet, not even close. Every breath is a ragged grunt, and every thrust is punctuated by a low, guttural moan that speaks of a pleasure so intense it borders on agony. It is the sexiest thing you have ever heard, especially that deep, dark voice, usually so fiercely controlled, now spilling a continuous stream of dirty praise and desperate demands.
"Want it all?" he pants, his grip on your neck tightening just a fraction. "Want my cum deep inside you, huh?"
"Yes! Fuck, Simon, yes… " you beg, your voice breaking into a wail. You are right on the edge, the pressure coiling so tightly in your gut that it threatens to snap. The feeling of his thick cock dragging against your inner walls, the possessive hold on your neck, and the raw, filthy words pouring from his mouth are entirely too much.
His rhythm suddenly falters, becoming erratic and frantic. He drives into you with short, sharp, bruising jabs, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. "Fuck, I'm close. Gonna cum. Gonna fuckin' breed this sweet little cunt."
The word, delivered so raw and primal, sends you hurtling over the precipice. Your vision whites out completely as your orgasm crashes through you, your walls clamping down on his length in a series of powerful, violent, rhythmic pulses. You scream his name, a raw, soundless cry as your body convulses underneath his weight.
With a roar, Simon buries himself inside you. You feel the hot flood of his release as he pumps his cum deep into your core, pulse after burning pulse. His entire frame shudders against you, his hand on your neck the only thing keeping you both grounded as he rides out the most intense climax of his life.
He stays buried deep, his cock still twitching inside you, as if completely reluctant to leave the warmth of your body. His hand finally releases your neck, moving to brace his weight on the mattress beside you, but he does not pull out.
You can feel his cum, a warm, heavy slickness, beginning to leak from your heat, trickling slowly down the inside of your thigh. The filthy sensation causes you to instinctively clench around him again.
Simon lets out a low, breathless chuckle, the sound dark and thoroughly satisfied. "My greedy little girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Made a fuckin' mess of you."
He finally shifts, slowly withdrawing his softening length. The sudden loss makes you whimper, but then he is using two fingers to push the thick, white fluid back inside you, his touch shockingly gentle compared to the rough driving from moments before.
"Don't waste it, baby" he commands softly, his tone brooking no argument. "I want you feeling me for days."
You can only moan in response, thoroughly claimed. You look back at him, at the man with the ice-cold eyes who has just given you the most earth-shattering, vocal, and dirty experience of your life. He reads the question in your gaze, the sheer disbelief and awe.
He simply smirks, the slow, wicked curve of his lips visible just beneath the edge of his mask.
"What?" he rasps, his voice still thick and heavy with sex. "You look at me like I'm some kind of fuckin' saint out there. This is what saints pray for."
And as he leans down to kiss you, slow and deep, you realize you are the luckiest sinner alive.
Southern generosity- or something like that. After being stranded on the side of the road, you try your hand at hitchhiking, hoping to catch a ride home.
But when the driver starts taking a detour, you realize you might be in over your head.
!! Masky + Hoodie + Toby x F! Reader !! W/C: 5.9k
-> Including: Dubcon/CNC, roleplay, gun + fear play, cunnilingus, oral (m-receiving), p in v, degradation, objectification, manhandling, choking, praise, dumbification, slight breeding, and domestic fluff :p ->
Moon divider by @strangergraphics
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— ^ ^ —
The breeze whistled like an omen.
You were out of luck after your date bailed, and now you’re stuck on the side of the highway. The guy you were supposed to meet up with ended up ghosting you, so with no change for cabs left, you waved down a truck.
The tires screeched to a halt, and a man stepped out. Dark hair, his parted bangs shadowed his eyes, the car headlights reflecting in his pupils as he called out to you. “Whatcha’ doin’ out here?” His drawl hit you first, then the faint scent of cigarettes followed.
You replied quickly. “My, um- my date didn’t show up. Can I catch a ride with you?” Cringing at your own desperation, but the stranger didn’t seem all too bothered, simply nodding at you. “Hop in.” You shuffled over, quick to slide into the backseat while the engine came to life.
In the rush, the darkness of the night, you’d only registered the others after the doors had locked.
Another man at the passenger side, dirty blonde, with a scar running from his lip to his brow. A boy to your right, his face covered in bandages.
He greets you excitedly, tittering. “Hey, y-you’re out here pretty l-late, huh?” His stutter restarted his words like a scratched record, and you smiled politely. “Yeah, I was supposed to see this guy, but y’know.”
He grinned at that, wide, sharp. “They’ll do that to you- Toby, by the way.” His hand extended out, and you met him there. His palm felt heavily calloused, matching the scars littering his knuckles.
You told him your name, and he hummed. He said he liked it, that it ‘suits you’. It’s almost flirty, but you couldn’t tell. The seat leather sticks to your thighs in the summer heat, street lights flashing by quickly.
As the ride drags on, every time you thought that you had a read on Toby, he’d say something that throws you off. Yet he appears nice enough. Brian, as you’d come to find out, chimed in five minutes later.
“Where ya’ headed?”
Right.
“I’m not too far from here. Barter Drive- Just a little into town.” You responded, fidgeting with your thumbs. The air in the truck is a little stale- dingy, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Hunters came and went all the time, and they looked like the type.
Toby scooted closer and closer with each passing minute. Your legs were nearly touching when you finally looked up.
He was barely a couple of inches from your face, and the backseat suddenly felt cramped. “I like your s-shirt.” His raspy murmur warmed your cheeks. “Thank you, I like your, uh, sweater.”
You swallowed while he snickered. “Thanks,” Throwing his arm over the headrest, Toby cocked his head to the side, glancing at the dashboard.
“The GPS says you’re a whole t-thirty minutes away. It’s already almost one in the m-morning.”
He spoke lazily, like he knew something you didn’t. As if a decision had already been made long before you opened your mouth. “Well, if it’s too much trouble, you guys could leave me on the edge of town. I can walk the rest of the way.”
He tensed his jaw slightly, shrugging. “Mm. We’re staying at a cabin near t-the lake. It’s closer. Why don’t you spend the night? Tim can drop you off early.” A jarring offer that had you simpering nervously. “Oh, I couldn’t. It’s your space, and you don’t really know me-” However, you were cut short by a grunt from the driver's seat.
“It’s no problem. ‘Sides, we’re right up ahead, and we got a spare bedroom. You’ll be fine.” He didn’t even give you the time to respond, the truck turning off the main road and onto a path between the shrubbery.
The wheels ground against the gravel, the vehicle jolting until it slowed to a stop. Through the window, you could spot a sign in front of the car. “Dead End Road.”
The trail went past their cabin slightly, cutting off abruptly at the trees' border. The house itself sat in the middle of the small clearing. Built from scuffed wood, with a single porch light hanging above the door. Something about the seclusion, the sign that stood out amongst the vast oak, had your gut uneasy.
A warning.
You inhaled shallowly, then Toby hooked an arm around your neck. “Let’s go, c’mon.” Too cheery, he tugged you out of the backseat, dragging you to the porch while your feet scrambled to catch up. The other two followed suit, and you were standing in the foyer in less than five minutes.
“It’s nice in here.” Trying your best to be cordial, you set your shoes on the mat as they did the same. “Well, it ain’t much, but it does what it’s supposed to,” Tim said, nodding at you. Toby then ushered you to walk, and you made your way down the hall. Upon entering the living room, you met eyes with Brian, the man already settled on a lounge chair.
The fireplace crackled, and you waved at him, unsure of how to proceed. “Hi.” His lips twitched up at that, an almost smile when you locked eyes. “Hey.” Toby rested his palm on your lower back, intimate in a way you didn’t expect. His hand pushed you deeper into the room, and he brought you over to the couch, dropping down next to you.
Tim had slumped into a recliner to your left, your seats circling the hearth. His lighter sparked once, twice, before he inhaled, the cigarette burning faintly. “You want somethin’ to drink?” You shook your head, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Where’s the spare room? I think I’m gonna’ turn in-” Brian piped up, interrupting you.
“The night's young, ain’t it?”
Even without looking around, you could feel their eyes boring into you. Like starved wolves waiting for prey to take the bait. “You’re s-so tense,” Toby’s hand was too warm on your thigh, and he closed the proximity by a fraction, nose almost brushing yours when you faced him. “Breathe, jeez.” He sniggered, his pupils flicking down to your lips.
Your heart beat loudly in your ears, body frozen by the atmosphere. Borderline claustrophobic. “Sorry.” You mumbled, having his grin stretch. In that moment, your dead phone came to mind, the evident lack of outside communication enveloping you. “Don’t apologize. We’re just t-talking, nothing s-serious.” His voice had muted to a whisper, then he leaned forward.
Your mouths slotted together, and you scrambled to grip his shoulders. The force of the kiss knocked you onto your back, his frame effectively pinning you down. He wasted no time, with his hips beginning to grind as you struggled for air.
Saliva breached in strings between your lips when he withdrew. “You’re so pretty, y’know that? It makes it h-hard to hold back.” Your eyes were wide, breath coming in short puffs. “I- I thought-” You stuttered, and Tim shoved off his chair, coming into view while you swallowed dryly. His cigarette had been stubbed out into an ashtray, and he crouched.
“I know you’re pent up, s’alright. You jus’ need a little push.” He grasped your chin, forcing your head to the side. His tongue invaded your mouth in a blink, exploring the cavern hungrily. Messy, as your teeth clicked, and you felt Toby start to nibble down your throat. Drifting lower until he slinked off the sofa, his knees thudding against the carpet.
Your jeans were unbuckled, his fingers moving fast- you jerked, making Tim recline. He ran his tongue over his canines. “Relax. It’ll feel good, promise.” Dread, fear and a violating excitement licked up your spine. These were not good men, disgustingly scummy at best, and dangerous at worst. Yet your thighs twitched at the base of his words anyway.
The shorts were towed down your legs, getting tossed onto the floor before Toby mouthed at your clothed cunt. The heat of his tongue had you gasping, and Tim hooked a finger at your shirt’s edge. It was yanked up, exposing your chest. “No bra? I’m startin’ to think you were planning for this.” He snickered, groping the plush.
With Toby humming against your core, Tim began to leave hickeys across your breasts- you arched involuntarily. “Wait, please.” The pleasure came crashing through your body, principal and self-preservation clashing with the wetness building inside your panties. Toby was lapping at you through the cotton, his tongue prodding between your folds, nose nudging your clit.
Your hips started moving on their own, bucking against his face as you whined. He parted from you, licking his lips. “Masky- s-she’s soaked, man. I didn’t even do anything yet.” He chuckled. Yanking you towards him while Tim swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud. Mouth on one, his hand toying with the other.
“Sensitive, ain’t you?” He drawled, giving you one last nip, then rising to his feet. You trembled, Toby devouring you whole when your eyes finally focused on Tim. His buckle clinked, belt hanging loose. You watched him tug at his zipper before his boxer band was pulled down. Hefty, pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock, with a vein along the underside.
He propped a knee behind your head, guiding himself to your lips. “Open up, girl.” He rasped, and your jaw fell slack, salt coating your palate. He rocked inside slowly, lids drooping as he groaned. The sound had you clenching on nothing, and Toby pushed your ruined underwear to the side.
His mouth was so wet. Licking up your spillage, the slick dribbling down his chin. Your eyes rolled up, moaning lewdly around Tim’s length, and he buried his fingers in your hair. Sinking deeper, with the tip grazing the back of your throat. You scratched at the cushions, hands balled by your sides. “Look at you- just fuckin’ askin’ for it.” He scoffed, a cruel smirk spreading across his face.
His grip became harsh, and he hauled you flush against his pelvis. Thrusting his cock balls deep while you gagged. “Chokin’ on me like I’m your man. Where’s yer’ shame, yeah?” He huffed, watching the tears stream down your cheeks. “You ain’t too bad on the eyes, though. Prettiest whore I ever seen.” You writhed in his hold.
The coil in your gut curled taut, building and building- your thighs clamped around Toby’s ears. Your cunt was pulsing wildly, overwhelmed by his tongue. “Mm- fuck.” He groaned into your mound, gulping like it’d kill him if he let your cum go to waste. His fingers dug into your hips, grinding you onto his mouth.
Your legs were shaking when Tim grunted, spilling down your throat hotly. He slid himself past your lips with a low whistle, satisfied. Toby wiped his chin clumsily, crawling onto you as the other man stepped back. However, he was halted by Tim calling out to him. “Rogers, the hell I tell you?” He pouted at that, begrudgingly pushing away from you.
“But I prepped h-her-” He was silenced by Tim’s cold glare, gritting his teeth while he slouched into the armrest. “Can I use her mouth then?” He said, glancing at you, and Tim gave him a curt nod.
Shifting your limp body upright, then hoisting you onto his lap. His cock nudged between the folds of your pussy, lining up the tip with your entrance.
Your head was spinning. Their hands felt wrong on you, but your body was betraying you. Your thighs were sticky, and the mewl that left you when he sank you down on his girth didn’t help your case. You were being stretched beyond your limits, skin dewy with sweat. His cock had fit snug inside you, and it curved to press on your sweet spot hard enough to make your eyes cross. “Ah-”
Toby had shuffled in front of you, jeans already shoved below his ass as he pumped his cock. “Y-you want it, right?” He loomed over you, petting your cheek with an unsteady hand. “Say it. You w-want me-” His careful nature seemed to wane the longer it took for you to respond- ignoring the fact that he was talking a mile a minute.
His once-gentle touch turned abrasive, and he yanked your head back, his grip tangled in your hair. “Say you f-fucking want me.” He snarled, his eyes swimming with a violent desperation. When you nodded frantically, his grasp softened a bit, Toby laughing as if he was drunk. Pupils blown wide. “Yeah- yeah, okay. ‘Cause y-you’re really special, and I don’t wanna’ make you s-sad.”
His pre-cum smeared against your lips while he angled his cock head, filling your throat in one thrust. You hiccuped pathetically at the intrusion, and he cradled your face, rolling his hips forward. “Oh, shit. Ngh- you’re so perfect. Feels s’good- fuck.” You didn’t even have the time to adjust, because Tim started bouncing you a second later.
His cock was thumping up into your cervix, arms hooked under your knees as leverage. Stuffed from both ends, with Toby fucking your mouth, and Tim slamming into your cunt. Your brain was melting.
You could barely keep your eyes open, vision blurry while you blinked. Your gaze drifted past Toby, and the sight had you whining. Brian was slumped against the loveseat, boxers towed off just enough for him to stroke himself. At first glance, he appeared unaffected, but if you looked closer, you’d see it.
The flush in his cheeks, the heave of his chest. His brows were fighting to knot together as he stared, with his eyes half-lidded. Something about being watched with such fervour made you shiver, and Tim’s head pitched back.
You were squeezing down on him like a vice, your little noises having him twitch inside you. He reached up, dragging his hand over your chest and kneading the fat of your tits.
“Fuckin’ made for this, yeah? Gettin’ off to being used by motherfuckers you ain’t know-” He rolled his neck to the left before burying his nose into your shoulder.
“You wanted to act like you hated it, huh? Cry like you ain’t beggin’ for it- fuckin’ slut.” Mocking, his hips drove into you harder, pounding into you with abandon.
You clenched around him, and he cooed, licking a stripe up your neck. “I know, baby. I’ll fill you up- hah- real good.” The squelch of your pussy was embarrassingly loud, your arousal drenching his thighs.
Toby collapsed into you, catching himself with a palm against the couch’s headrest. He held your head firmly in place, his length pumping in and out of your throat. He was panting, drooling like a dog. You felt so fucking good, he couldn’t think. “Ah- shit, please.” His base smacked against your chin, slobber mixing with semi-opaque white.
He came with a breathy grunt, hips jolting- before he quickly tugged himself free. Jacking off onto your face, painting your skin with thick ropes. The gluey substance dripped down your features, milk pooling on your tongue as you presented your mouth. Too far gone, and he giggled, manic. “You’re s-such a good girl, y’know that?” Mashing his lips to yours, cum swirling with his own spit while the other man flooded your tunnel.
“Shit. You’re makin’ me wanna’ keep you.” Tim drawled, taking a moment to catch his breath. he pulled you off of him, letting you slump into the sofa, boneless. Once his words actually registered, the alarm in your gaze made him chuckle.
“Oh, honey- don’t tell me you thought you were still goin’ home.”
Your blood ran cold when he nodded at Brian. “Have at ‘er.” The man stood after the quick acknowledgment, padding over to you, half-tucked back into his boxers. If you’d been more observant, more cautious or weary, you would’ve noticed the holster attached to the back of his belt.
The distinct click of a pistol's safety rang out as Toby sat down to your right, and he kneeled in front of you.
Holding up the weapon, he cocked his head to the side. “You know what this is?” Panic spread from the end of your legs up to your skull. Your mouth faltered, gaping at him until he hummed, monotone. “You scared?” Your body refused to respond, and he lowered the gun, tapping your bare stomach twice with the barrel. “You should be.”
The hairs on your nape rose while he got to his feet. He trailed the cold steel along your collar, stopping at your lips. The harshness of the barrel left goose bumps in its wake, lethal, unhallowed. “Suck.” You swallowed thickly, tears collecting at your lashline. You leaned forward, quivering when you took the metal into your mouth.
The taste coated your tongue bitterly, like grit and unsanctioned barbarity. Adrenaline kept you upright, the only thing holding you back from hyperventilating.
You wish you ran. You wish you had toughed it out till morning, finding a payphone to call a friend. But you didn’t, and you hadn’t.
You bobbed your head slightly, gurgling around the pistol when he forced it deeper. In your periphery, you saw the blur of his hand, and you flinched—
A pet.
He was petting your hair. Smoothing down the strays, his thumb rubbing back and forth. The shock made you freeze, but he was swift to remind you. “Go on.” Not yelling. Not barking demands. Because he didn’t need to.
His calm demeanour was terrifying, too calculating- like he could snap at any moment. As if your fate could be altered at a second's notice, your life sitting in the palm of his hand.
Brian’s inhales grew heavy, dragging his tongue across his teeth. His touch descended from the top of your head to your nape, resting the gun’s grip where his buckle would be as he began rocking his hips. “See? That ain’t so bad.” He murmured, grunting under his breath. He was grinding his bulge against the pistol, the muted pleasure rolling up his frame.
You were scared, fearing your end, your sanity hanging by a thread. Every muscle in your body was screaming, winding tight- before a debased want sparked at your core. Small flickers of ember, matches being struck onto the brick. They scraped and scraped until a flame burst into the dark.
The repetition of the gun thumping into the back of your throat had your mind hazy. Lulling you achingly slow, your shoulders drooped, and you let out a faint whine. But it was enough.
Tim took a drag of the freshly lit cigarette, peering at you. “Well, I’ll be damned, she likes it.” He sniggered, and Brian clicked his tongue. “Course she does. Bet she’s been dreamin’ ‘bout this for years.” Mean as he removed the metal from your mouth, he threw the weapon onto the couch haphazardly. “Jesus, you’re a fucking whore.” His lip curled up into a sneer like he was disappointed.
“On your feet.” He said, eyes cold- you urged your legs to move. Yet your reaction came too late, and his arm shot out, fingers clamping around your windpipe.
He hauled you upwards, your limbs flailing to steady yourself. “When I speak, you listen, and you listen good. Understand?” You clawed at his wrist weakly, whimpering like a hit animal. Your lungs were burning.
He scoffed at your pitiful strength and released you after a beat, spinning you to face the sofa. Your legs buckled when he shoved you forward, wrestling your body to arch. Your knees were spread on the cushion, with your hands finding purchase on the couch top. Quiet rustling, then a calloused palm at your waist-
Brian speared you onto his cock to the hilt, and you wailed.
He didn’t ease you into it; there was no buildup or warning. With his length bullying in and out of your over-sensitive cunt, he fucked you fast and rough. “I can’t- too much, please- please.” He grunted at that, spitting onto your pussy from the back. “Dogs don’t talk.” His hips snapped against you even harder, cruel—
You didn’t mean to.
It wasn’t your fault. Your thighs were barely able to hold your weight, but in the heat of it, your foot jerked. Kicking him with enough power to make the man stagger a tad. He paused instantly, and your heart sank at his next words. “Bad girl.”
You were yanked to his chest, his bicep locking around your neck. He started pounding into your walls, bruising your poor insides as punishment. “Mm- haah- p-please. Didn’t mean it- didn’t-” Your pleas fell on deaf ears, and slick poured down your trembling legs. From the angle he had you in, his tip kept knocking into a spot that had your pupils rolling up.
It felt like you were being ripped in half, bred like a toy with no other purpose. The lack of air was making your vision dot with black, and Toby grinned, watching while he pumped himself. His hand extended, pressing down on the bulge that protruded every time Hoodie would thrust. “You’re s-suh-so pretty like this.” You think your skull was going to explode.
Drool was leaking from the corners of your mouth, jaw slack. Moans punching up your throat by force, “Ah- ah- oh-” You scratched at his bicep, squirming pathetically. He huffed and loosened his hold. Barring an arm around your chest instead, condensing your breasts, his fingers digging into your skin. His breath was feverish against your ear.
“At least pretend you hate me.” He panted, taunting you while driving deeper into your pussy. “Lettin’ us spread your legs, didn’t even have to ask.” The fabric of his sweater was tacky on your back, coarse as he chuckled. “Shit, yer’ makin’ a fucking mess on me- you gonna’ cum?” Your moans scratched your throat raw, and you bucked into him.
Tim clenched his jaw in thought, then he laughed, snatching the pistol. “Don’t worry, hun. We’ll take care of you real nice.” The barrel was pressed to your clit, making you jerk. “No- ngh.” The contrast in temperatures was euphoric, cool metal against your sweltering cunt.
You were toeing the ledge, on the brink, when your shoulders bowed— before Brian stilled behind you.
You squirmed on him, twitching, and he reclined. Stopping you from falling with a fistful of your hair, as he gave your ass a stinging spank. “If you wanna’ cum, you’re gonna’ work for it-”
Rasping, he set his palm on the curve of your spine, pushing you to arch. “Grind.” His voice had dropped an octave, and the baritone had you dripping.
It was mortifying, but you couldn’t help the sway of your hips. With each rut, the steel slid between your folds, pussy split open on his cock. Embarrassment flooded you, your face aflame while your whines heightened in pitch.
Back and forth, back and forth, your orgasm simmering while you shook. Too much and too little all at once.“Please- please, wanna’ cum- please.” You begged, the woven fabric of the sofa sullied beneath you.
Brian gritted his teeth. You were throbbing around him, cunt pulsing. He could fucking hear how wet you are, the sticky squelching echoing through the room every time your ass pressed onto him. He dug his grasp firmer into your waist, the dull pain fuelling your pleasure. Wires had crossed in your head, and you moaned, wanton and needy.
He was staving off his own peak, biting down on his lip to stifle his groan. His patience had withered to nothing, and he sharply hauled your hips back. Cockhead forced against your cervix, stuffing you to the brink. Not fucking you, with the only stimulation being from the stretch and the tainted metal of the weapon. You were too full, so full it hurt— the ecstasy crashed into you mercilessly. “Brian.”
Your head spun, and your view phased in and out, white at the edges. He acted before he could think it through. Perhaps it was your blatant desperation, the way you breathed his name like a prayer. Either way, you felt a stern hand on your jaw.
Jerking your face to the side, his lips molding over yours. His tongue invaded your mouth, sweeping your teeth, consuming you entirely.
He was corrupting your mind, his touch both desecrating and reverent. You whined, and he drank in the sound. Spurting inside you, then releasing you with a messy smack. “Christ.” He exhaled, his length slipping out of your pussy. Brian’s spend leaked from your sopping hole, and his thumb pried you wide when he hummed in approval.
Tim gave your clit a final tap. Tugging the pistol out of the way just in time, your body crumbling onto the chair, beyond exhausted. The surface stuck to your sweat-slicked skin, and you were uncomfortably sticky from head to toe. Yet, just as your lids began to close, a flash went off behind you. It made the last of your adrenaline surge to the front. “W-wait-” Arms like lead, you peeked over your shoulder.
His unfeeling smirk told you everything, camera in hand, and the scent of smoke wafted into the air before Tim spoke. “We ain’t the type to keep souvenirs. You should be honoured.”
Toby snickered at the man's praise. “Told you, y-you were s-special.” He peeled you off the sofa, propping you against his chest, with your thighs straddling his own.
“It’s my turn, pretty. You can’t p-pass out yet, okay?” You didn’t have the energy to reply if you wanted to, limbs useless by now. All you could do was moan quietly as he sank you down onto his cock. “Fuck, you’re s-so warm.” He groaned into your ear, anchoring his palms under your ass to bounce you. Your arms hung limp by your sides, Toby fucking up into your puffy cunt.
Your clit kept bumping into his base, and the sparse hair of his happy trail ground against your sensitive skin. Even through Toby’s sweater, you could feel the ridges of roped muscle. Strength nurtured by gruelling labour and nothing else.
The perspiration had dampened his face, his bandages lifting at the corners. Another thrust, another jerk of his head- and the patch peeled off.
A gnarled, ragged scar tugged at the skin on his cheek, revealing his gums. It looked like it had healed and reopened over and over again, his teeth exposed at the deepest part of the gouge. You think there’s something wrong with you. A festering infection that you’d ignored, only revealing itself now.
You pulled yourself from his shoulder and leaned in as he eased his rhythm, confused. “What-?” Then your tongue ran over his unconcealed teeth. You were licking his fucking scar. He screeched a laugh, yanking you back by the hair.
“You’re f-fucking sick.” Toby smashed your lips together no more than a second after, pelvis slapping against your mound.
Tim chuckled in disbelief, nodding at Brian. “Look at that- we should’ve grabbed her sooner.” He extended the gun loosely, and the other man agreed with a grunt, snagging the grip from his hand. “I’m surprised she made it this far with a head that empty.” He stepped to you, trailing the barrel up your spine while you rode Toby’s cock.
It felt too good- you couldn’t stop. The veins on his girth dragged in and out of your tunnel, catching on the ridges and making you drool. Fucked dumb on it and high off the friction. Brian huffed, sneering.
“Humpin’ him like an addict. I bet you can’t even fuckin’ hear me.” He said, using the top of the pistol to lug your head back, the metal pressed against your throat. “Open.” An order that you obeyed swiftly, tongue stuck out. He spat onto your palette, clamping a palm over your mouth, and watching you swallow without a fight. He scoffed.
Swapping the weapon with his hand, your windpipe was snug in his grip before he raised the gun to your temple. “You got five minutes to finish him off, or I’m pullin’ the trigger.” The gun was rammed so hard against your skull that it burned, aching from the shooting pain. You slammed your hips down fervently and hiccuped.
Your nervous system was at war with itself, your mind sending out alerts. Blaring sirens, and going comatose from fear, while your body struggled to keep up with the agonizing pleasure. You sobbed, panting as Toby threw his head back, eyes scrunched shut. “Shit- fuck- fuckfuck—” He arched, writhing under you, and Tim whistled to your side, jeering. “I’m startin’ to like you, baby. You ain’t wanna’ break my heart, do ya’?”
Your cunt felt raw, the nonstop usage having hot tears stream down your cheeks. They’d been so rough, and your inner thighs hurt, bruises already forming. Your orgasm seized you painfully, your arousal squirting onto Toby’s stomach as he keened, brows knotted up. He tensed completely, then sagged into the cushions, chest heaving.
The pistol slid from your head when you collapsed into him.
Spittle mixed with snot and salt had your face a mess, and you snivelled, nearly hyperventilating. You were sore all over, head heavier than cement, your muscles screaming from overexertion. You were so tired.
Your ears were stuffed with cotton, but you could still make out Tim’s voice, the faint shuffling as he moved closer. His hand brushed the hair out of your eyes, and you sniffled, hiccuping loudly.
Yet even through your bleary vision, his worry was laid bare.
“Come back to me, sugar- c’mon.”
Toby adjusted you carefully while Brian rushed to grab water and hot towels. “You’re okay. We g-got you.” He muttered, smoothing his palm down your back. Tim pressed a kiss to your damp forehead. “It’s done, you did so well. So, so good, you hear me?”
Softly, he cradled your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth. “You’re alright, just breathe for me, hun.” Your inhales finally began to slow, and Brian rounded the couch.
Walking to the front of the chair, he stood with one knee settled between you and Tim to steady his weight. “Heya,’ dolly.” He whispered, cautious not to shock your system further. The bottle was brought to your lips, and you gulped down the water. The liquid cooled you swiftly, making you nuzzle into Toby’s arms once you were satisfied.
Brian’s hands rested on your arms when he pitched forward, littering your features in feather-light pecks.
He withdrew after a minute and towed the coffee table towards himself. Taking a seat, then supplying Toby with the clean rags as Tim laced his fingers with yours. Your tremors still hadn’t ceased, and he frowned.
“Can you tell me where you are?” Tim mumbled, holding your knuckles to his chest. The warmth of his hand, along with Toby's body, had you fighting sleep, slurring. “At home…” He hummed at that, sighing in relief.
They’d been wary when you’d initially brought it up, but you said you were sure. It’s not like you hadn’t done roleplay in the past- it’s just that this was going the extra mile. You wished to go all in, setting up a whole scenario for it. You had debated storylines the night prior and decided on the hitchhiker trope.
You would be stranded, alone and vulnerable- picked up by three strangers in a truck. They would take you back to an “unfamiliar cabin” to have their way with you.
Cliche’, yet you’d been excited. And one very, very long conversation about safewords later, you took a bus to a decently far gas station. Walking back for authenticity, according to you. You didn’t talk to them for the full twenty-four hours leading up to it and everything.
Still, the concern remained present. The last thing they wanted was to actually scare you, and this would be a heavy role to partake in. The fear of pushing you too far, being too rough or hurting you had been circling their minds the entire night. Always waiting an extra second after an act, just in case you needed a break or to stop the scene entirely.
Tim kissed your bare shoulder. “You know who we are?” Some would say it was dumb, but he didn’t care. Facts would ground you- reminders would ensure your comedown was stable. He needed you to know you were safe.
You swallowed, blinking at him lazily. “My boys.” He smiled, nodding, pupils dilated while he gave your palm a squeeze. “Mhm.” Toby finished wiping the grime from your back, pecking your crown. “How are you feeling, angel?” He cast the towel aside and snatched a fresh one from a bowl filled with warm water. “Sleepy.” Brian chuckled at your dazed expression, hushed.
“S’been a long night, hm?” He rose, redoing his buckle halfway. “Let’s get you cleaned up, darlin’. Yer’ gonna’ catch a cold like this.” Tim followed suit, and Toby shuffled to stand, hoisting you upwards. With your legs wrapped around his waist, the four of you made your way upstairs.
The bath was heavenly for your sore joints, and you breathed out, content. Tim and Toby had taken the standing shower, with you and Brian cuddled in the tub after a quick rinse.
You scooped the sudds in your hands, reclining into his chest. “You are a very convincing actor, Bri Bri.” He laughed, one arm resting at your hip, the other thrown over the porcelain ledge.
“Mm- nearly broke character when you flinched. I felt like a fuckin’ bastard.”
“Yeah, but that’s the point! You were all ‘grrr, obey me or else- you whore.’ It was crazy.”
He cringed at the memory. “Lord, that sounds awful out loud. You sure you liked it?” The water sloshed a bit, your feet wiggling, and you giggled. Peering at him. “Yes. And I thought you were very sexy. What if you wore your masks next time?” He shot you a look, squinting at you. “Dolly, I think you have a thing, and we should talk about it.” You jutted out your bottom lip. “But you could chase me through the woods—”
“Absolutely not.”
Tim had shoved his head out from the shower door, the glass fogged with steam. “The forest is dangerous. You could trip- what if you hurt yourself, huh? And there are animals and bugs, and I’m not defiling you on the dirt while you cry. It ain’t right.”
His hair was foamed with soap, and Toby swiped at the condensation, creating a little window to look through. “It’s t-too risky, muffin. You could fall or s-something.” You huffed, defensive. “I’m not even that clumsy.”
“It ain’t about bein’ clumsy, it’s principle.”
“Tim.”
“Uh uh. It’s in the house where it’s safe, or it’s not happenin’. Yer’ lucky we even agreed to that lil’ gun thing.”
You groaned, sagging against Brian as you pouted. “It was empty!” He snickered from behind you, and Tim narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t start with me, girl.” He closed the door, the attitude radiating off him when Toby snorted.
“I know you wanna’, but it’s dangerous out there- and what if EJ s-sees? He’s super strict about that s-stuff. He’d kill all of us before we could explain.” His explanation had you raising a brow, and you leaned your cheek onto Brian’s bicep.
“Really?”
“Yeah- Jack’s moral compass is s-strong. Like. Strong.”
“I thought he just ate people?”
“Angel, if I told him I called you a whore with no context, he’d punch m-me into a wall—”
the creeps when ur in a depressive episode, cw for sh in ej's. this might be the healthiest i'll ever write them but tbh i need the indulgence cs i js got on lexapro again lol
includes: toby, ben, ej, evan, brian, tim, jeff, and liu
for @pomegranatseed <3 comment "jiji noo dont kys ur so sexy aha" if u wna be in the taglist
thinking about asking adrian to send you pics of him holding it when he's away on missions and of course he's weirded out by it, like he snickers a lil bit but he also doesn't question it either, adrian looooves being useful, he obliges almost immediately no matter where he is, he texts back "freak 🍌" and then seconds later the picture pops up, theres literally dirt and foliage in the background, he's holding it with gloved hands and the vigilante suit still on, he really will pull it out at any given moment if you ask him to, he'll grab the outline of his dick over his suited crotch if thats what you want to see too
