jeff the killer headcanons that are probably overdone
- he has his left ear pierced
- he says he plays guitar but no one has ever seen it
- he smokes cigs + weed obsessively
- he’s actually a metal head
- he’s a filthy animal so the first few years after the accident his mouth wounds just got non stop infections. it smelled atrocious
- he shows his love by being a dick
- which means “i hate you” from him just means he loves you. unless he’s actively gutting you or something
- he thinks opossums are cute because they remind him of himself
- he paints his toes pink and wears socks so no one can see
- is both egotistical and insecure somehow
- steals jewelry from his particularly stylish victims and wears them, usually with the blood still on them
- can’t take hot showers without having a breakdown so goes the complete other direction and takes freezing cold ones
- wears his hair in a bun a lot :-)
- probably a gemini …
- is basically zack from aod
- like literally the dub voice and all
- loves slasher horror but just because it’s comedic to him. sometimes he steals lines from famous horror movies and uses them on his next victim. he gets a kick out of it.
- he’s used, “here’s johnny!” so many times he got tired of it
- he’s 6′2 but don’t ask him to get something down from a high shelf for you. he’ll just move it higher.
Now that. That is too accurate you know? ArE yOu sTalKiNg mE? Also forget about that other request, please! (It's cringy and I figured it out just now lol) Anyway, I will send quite a few requests, I hope that's ok! So, how about a stealer clothes y/n if you didn't do it yet? Like they see comfortable clothes of (character) and they are like:" yeah, this is mine now." and they wear it. What would be (character)'s reaction? Btw, I need more blushy boys man.
Hey! I'm so sorry it was supposed to be posted 1 day ago but my Tumblr glitched and it didn't manage to hit it online! I just found out while scrolling through my posts and I had to redo it! I'm so sorry for the delay!
Their s/o wears something of His:
Ticci Toby
♟ It was Laundry Day and You had Nothing To Wear.
♟ You Looked Everywhere and there was Nothing.
♟ You can't just go waltzing around with only a towel.
♟ But then you remembered something-
♟ You had a Boyfriend with an unlimited amount of Brown Hoodies.
♟ Should you Take advantage of that--
♟ Damn Right You should.
♟ His Clothes Fit you really well like... It's baggy and loose but
♟ You look Hot like...
♟ You even started Flaunting in front of the mirror.
♟ The door clicked open and your boyfriend who looked worn out to even notice you came in.
♟ You immediately Came running towards him in his Clothes.
♟ " Babbyyyyy~! " You yelled.
♟ Before Enveloping him in a hug your face burying in his chest.
♟ " B-Babe? "
♟ He looked down on you and boy did his tics get worse and he was speechless.
♟ He looks like a dumbfounded Koala it looked so Cute.
♟ half of his face was covered by his mouth guard but his ears had a very taint color of red.
♟ Giggling, you pulled down his mouth guard and you were right.
♟ He's Blushing I can't---
♟ You stood on your tippy toes arms still wrapped around his torso before pressing a peck on his lips.
♟ You started giving him smooches and he looked so precious.
♟ His cheeks were so red and he looked so vulnerable watching you.
♟ " T-th-ose are-are m-my c-clo-thes! " Poor baby struggled to say those words.
♟ " Baby they're mine now, what's yours is mine~"
♟ You smothered him with smooches and he was clearly caught off guard.
♟ he whined before running out of your shared bedroom yelling.
♟ " Y-you w-w-win this T-Time!!! "
Jeff the Killer
♘ It was pouring outside and you were unlucky enough to be heading back to the mansion at that time.
♘ You were soaking wet when you arrived and you didn't have the energy to go to your room.
♘ so you went to your boyfriend's room instead.
♘ He wasn't inside but you have a spare key, you took a shower and then started rummaging through his drawers.
♘ and as expected his drawers were filled with white hoodies so you decided to wear one instead.
♘ He was gone for so long though and it was boring.
♘ You weren't wearing a bra or any panties but you did wear a pair of Jeff's clean boxers.
♘ And as expected he was in the kitchen and he seemed to be debating with bed while eating.
♘ You sneaked behind him and blew a puff of air behind his ear making him cuss.
♘ " What the fu--"
♘ The moment he turned around he was faced with you in his hoodie.
♘ You planned on teasing him so you stared at him with seductive eyes before licking your lips.
♘ you stretched the hoodie down making your hardened buds become visible on the surface of his Hoody. It's a good thing Ben ain't looking.
♘ But then.... He blushed?
♘ The Burned Asshole actually knew how to blush!?
♘ He was flustered, it was adorable and the devil in your shoulder urged you to do more.
♘ You frowned when he turned around ignoring you so you squeezed your way on his lap sitting comfortable on him.
♘ " G-Get off me! "
♘ He tried acting tough but he shouldn't have done that.
♘ You started shifting your position purposely grinding on his crotch.
♘ you were in a naughty mood so you slightly lowered the zipper showering your cleavage.
♘ He was Technically eye fucking you and he looked so angry his eyes clearly had the words ' you're dead ' spelled in them.
♘ Leaning closer to his ear you whispered.
♘ " I'm not wearing any panties~"
♘ Jeff's face was priceless and you could see beads of sweat on his forehead and he visibly gulped .
♘ You were evil... So you ran away from him giggling.
♘ and the rest of the night an angry horn dog also known as Jeff searched every nook and cranny for you in the mansion.
♘ you were nowhere to be found because clockwork and Jane were hiding you.
♘ Hehehe poor Jeff had to take care of his problems on his own.
Ben Drowned
♜ Ok Ben was being a video game addicted jerk again.
♜ Which isn't a normal occurrence for you because he tends to get drowned in his own video game fantasies every once and awhile.
♜ You didn't mind for most days but today you wanted attention!.
♜ You tried everything! Screaming , poking and even asking but damn this guy is deaf!.
♜ you were so frustrated you were bored out of your mind then you saw something peaking out of his closet.
♜ you stood up pulling it out and it was a green Hoody with bunny ears.
♜ you snorted because this game freak actually wore this thing? Hah.
♜ then you thought of something to get his attention.
♜ if you can't get him to give you attention nicely then you've got no choice but to pull the ace card.
♜ You took off your top and wore the Hoody with bunny ears instead pulling the bunny ears up you crawled towards him from behind.
♜ You slapped his video controller away and you immediately positioned yourself on his lap.
♜ " What the hell y/n---"
♜ Oh boy he couldn't say anything else when his eyes landed on you.
♜ looking up at him with big glassy puppy eyes and a very neglected expression you pressed your chest against his while sniffling.
♜ " W-what? " He asked a very noticeable red tint covering his cheeks up to his ears.
♜ " Attention.... You're not giving me attention " You whined.
♜ you had a very pitiful expression but inside you were doing a victory dance because it fucking worked. He fell for it and look at him now! He's even blushing.
♜ He could answer you when your lips began to quiver.
♜ It's not Fair! How can you be cute and seductive at the same fucking time!? It's making him go weak and it's so unfair!
♜ He was speechless and he could barely make any audible sound.
♜ his hands were slightly shaking nd his face turned extremely red when you leaned in to capture his lips with yours.
♜ His face turned crimson and he immediately backed away.
♜ " Babe! That's so unfair! We talked about this! "
♜ He looked so embarrassed you couldn't help but start laughing when he covered his red face with his hands.
♜ it was fucking worth it, and from then on whenever you asked for attention hell give it to you knowing what's to come if he doesn't.
Hoodie
♗ in the morning you found your boyfriend dead asleep right next to you with his Hoody off and he was wearing a black shirt.
♗ His Hoody was sprawled on the floor and you picked it up.
♗ The cloth carried his scent a rich scent of musk and men's Cologne. He smelled really nice.
♗ so you were being a good girlfriend and wore his hoodie while heading down the kitchen to get you two some very much needed coffee.
♗ The other creeps were already awake and Trenderman was already making coffee so you asked for two mugs and he happily gave it to you.
♗ when you came back he was still asleep.
♗ you placed his mug on the desk while taking a sip from yours.
♗ He stirred in his sleep and not a minute too son he was sitting up and yawning.
♗ His eyes were now trained on your figure and he did the most unexpected thing .
♗ He blushed
♗ what the fuck the stoic Brian who never ever shows any sighs of emotional panic is blushing?
♗ Red coating his cheeks and he turned his head to the other side while clearing his throat.
♗ You fool trying to hide from me ey?
♗ Not for long!
♗ You pounced on him placing both of your hands on each side of his cheeks forcing jk to look at you.
♗ " Get off me! ".
♗ He yelled but his blush grew darker and you were honestly so surprised you squealed.
♗ " Oh my gosh you're blushing baaabbbee you're so cute"
♗ Yeah calling a serial killer cute is really cute.
♗ He started laughing at his embarrassed expression while guiding his hands on your curves.
♗ You traced your index finger on his red cheeks before caressing his lips.
♗ " You know Brian , I like you more when you're drowsy and blushing "
♗ " Shut up y/n"
♗ After awhile of teausbg him you lowered your lips to meet his and he eagerly returned the kiss
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnow playing - Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻
╰┈➤ ｡ content & warning(s) : established relationship, hints of toxicity (?), hints of angst, fluff, toby being toby, tried to be as accurate, no smut, just headcanons!
author's note: teehee, thanks for 200 followers, YES I will post another leon fic soon, but I couldn't ignore the urge to make a toby fic.
— Your boyfriend, Ticci Toby, would be a toxic boyfriend. At first, he isn't a golden retriever boyfriend; he would most likely be very mean and sarcastic with you at first, only because he isn't used to the concept of someone loving him for who he truly is, almost like a wounded dog, but more twisted in a sense.
— Yes, he is capable of holding a healthy relationship, but realistically, he wouldn't be lovey-dovey with you immediately; he would care for you in his own twisted way. He's socially awkward at best and an asshole at worst.
— No, he wouldn't be abusive (he doesn't want to be like his father). Yes, he would yell, but he will never hit you during arguments. Out of every creepypasta, he's probably the greenest flag, but he is still a horrible person. Your first few days of dating would be confusing at best. He wouldn't love you right away; he'll still remain the same, mean and sarcastic.
— enough to quite literally make you think of breaking up with him, but I feel like he would guilt-trip you into not doing that, an asshole at best, that's how he was until he eventually warms up to the idea of dating you, just BE patient with him and show him you're actually going to stay with him and maybe he'll warm up to you.
— It would probably take him a month or two to get used to you being by his side, and he would slowly soften up to you. Toby would be good at loving if he actually puts some thought and effort into your relationship. He would kinda be clingy, but definitely not in the first few days.
— Toby is horrible at jealousy; he would try to get better. he doesn't show it verbally, but he will show it afterwards when you two are in private. But on occasions, he wouldn't tell you about his jealousy, afraid of ruining your relationship.
— This honestly might tick some people off, but realistically, as a creepypasta, he would put his job first. So if it meant killing you, then he would do it. But he will be sad about it afterwards, he'll most likely feel horrible with himself, and turn into a bigger asshole than before.
— But if somehow, you two have been dating for years, then Toby would definitely show you his softer side. If you don't know what he does, then he'll hide what he does for his whole life; he's afraid of scaring you when you find out. But you will get an idea of what he does with the many injuries and bruises on his body.
— I feel like he would carve both of your initials into a tree, only if he's bored. he doesn't do it often and definitely doesn't tell you he does it out of embarrassment. Toby would definitely be the biggest smartass with you sometimes. He plays around too much, and he knows it.
— Toby doesn't know why he's so afraid of you getting into a car crash, but if you ever get into one and manage to have no injuries afterwards, he'll cling to you regardless of the latter. He'll definitely keep an eye on you for months on end. Do NOT even try to joke with him about car crashes because he will not laugh.
— So, in conclusion, the first few days of your relationship would be horrible, but he will eventually get used to the idea of dating you, and he will slowly show his softer side to you and love you in his own way. But he'll still be a major smartass and asshole.
Summary: Being a cam girl is a fun gig. Flexible hours, dressing up in cute outfits, and arguably easy cash. It’s almost made even better, knowing that you’ve 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, Toby’s 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 should’ve 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 Slender’s 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 Slender’s best efforts - Toby was still human. Flesh, bone, and a beating heart. Needs, wants, desires. Curiosities.
So when he’s 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 wasn’t expecting it to work, brought it home with the expectation that he’d get nothing but a black screen staring back at him. That he’d 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.
That’s not what happened. By some grace of god, or possibly by the devil’s 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 didn’t know it right then.
It didn’t 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 should’ve 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 wasn’t sure what he hoped would happen. That karma would’ve 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 didn’t take names. It was fickle. Wasn’t some all seeing god that punished the horrid and cleansed the world with one swipe of its hand. If that were true, he’d 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 couldn’t tear himself away. It was some sort of sick fascination, like a voyeur, gazing upon people’s lives while they were none the wiser. And maybe that’s why he just kept coming back. Maybe that’s how he found you.
He can’t 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 hadn’t 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 siren’s song. Eyes sparkling, lips plump, and the softest looking thighs he had ever laid eyes on. And don’t even get him started on what lay between them.
He hadn’t been with nearly as many girls as he would’ve 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 didn’t 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 didn’t. 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 he’d 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 that’s 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 he’d imagine peeling off with his own teeth. The common denominator between all of your clothes was that they looked expensive, and it didn’t 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 didn’t take long for Toby to realize that you’d do the same for him, if he just tossed you a bit of cash. You’d 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 couldn’t 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. He’d 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, he’s 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 wouldn’t take long for his little spending spree to end, but that didn’t 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.
’Oh, that’s a new name. Welcome to the show, Toby. What can I do for ya’?’
His name sounded like gospel coming from your lips. It wasn’t 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.
’Take your top off?’ 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.
’Take my top off?’ 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.
‘This what you wanted, Toby?’ 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. ‘Wanted to see my tits, baby?’ He whines, face scrunched up in pleasure - eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes pinched closed. He wasn’t even watching anymore, but he didn’t even need to. That sweet voice of yours was all he needed. ‘Bet you’re wishin’ these were your hands, huh?’
’Yes- F-Fuck-‘ 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 ‘schlick, schlick’ 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. ‘You’ve gone quiet, baby. Hands too busy?’
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.
’Great first impression. Go on and cum for me, Toby. Bet you’re close.’ 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 couldn’t bear to let it fizzle out.
Chest heaving when he slumps back against his sheets, so dazed he couldn’t 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 didn’t 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.
’Wanna see you stretch that pussy open, baby’. Fifty dollars.
’Look how wet you are… Better lick those fingers clean.’ Seventy.
’How about you moan my name when you cum? I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?’ 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 couldn’t 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 ‘There you are, Toby. Missed you.’ 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 couldn’t help but poke and prod, see just how far you’d go - proof that you were his girl, and that everyone else were just afterthoughts.
‘Cute set.’ 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. ‘I like you better in red though.’
You hadn’t 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 hadn’t said it was for him, but you didn’t 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 hadn’t 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 that’s 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, who’s ideal lover has a hole ripped straight through their cheek? Not many, that was for sure. But that was alright, he was sure you’d warm up to it eventually. He’d 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 wouldn’t even bat an eye at his more horrific attributes. Maybe, you wouldn’t even mind it if he told you exactly what he did as a profession.
Maybe he wouldn’t 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 you’d 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 should’ve 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 hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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, wasn’t 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 couldn’t 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 wasn’t 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 wasn’t enough anymore. And honestly? It never had been. He had known from the start - from the very first click - that he’d 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 wasn’t 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 weren’t 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 wasn’t his fault that you were so easy. It wasn’t 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 didn’t 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. Didn’t even need to be all too discreet about it, because you were too fucked out of your own mind that you didn’t 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 wouldn’t have expected. With the money you pull from the pockets of desperate men like him, he’d 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 couldn’t 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 wasn’t 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 hadn’t found you and tugged you away on your precarious walk home.
You didn’t 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 would’ve 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 weren’t 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 hadn’t taken you home.
But then again, if they had, he wouldn’t 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, weren’t 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 wasn’t much of a surprise. He had been getting off to just watching you for months now. But this time it was different, because you didn’t know.
You didn’t know he was unbuckling his belt as you unclasped your bra. Didn’t 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 that’s 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 he’s 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 he’s 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 doesn’t even realize he’s 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. He’s trying to be quiet, he really is, but he doesn’t think he’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t perfect, donning a few pimples and acne scarring from years before - but that was the best part. It wasn’t 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 - that’s what really drove the point home. You weren’t 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 didn’t even know how provocative you were being, you weren’t 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 he’s 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 you’re 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 wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want your first impression of him to be that he was just some creep. He wasn’t. 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. You’d 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 wouldn’t have been enough. It didn’t 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 wasn’t finished. He sure as hell wasn’t - he was only just getting started.
He grew accustomed to your routine over the next few days. You’d wake up, brush your teeth, and watch a few episodes of some cheesy sitcom on your television while you sipped your morning coffee. Then, you’d 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 didn’t have windows (a shame), but even if it did, he’d assume your bare body was hidden behind a curtain. So, for that stretch of time every day he’s 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 friend’s houses. You didn’t seem to have a day job, but he supposed that wasn’t 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 you’d pulled from your hoard of fans - sometimes taking day trips to the café 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 didn’t stop doing shows, just because he had gone radio silent. Of course not, it was your job, after all - you couldn’t 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 didn’t 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. He’d bet you’d 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 couldn’t call yourself innocent, when you were just reeling him in like this. He was sure that if he took a peek into your thoughts, he’d find that you were thinking of him just as he was thinking of you. Craving him. This man you didn’t 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.
-
You’re 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 could’ve 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 fuck’s sake. Let you circulate throughout his entire body and make a home in his heart, keeping you there for as long as you’d let him.
He’s 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 must’ve been a few days since you last washed them - and god, if he isn’t 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 doesn’t care. Can’t 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 couldn’t 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. He’s too far past rationality to even notice. “F-Fuck-“ 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.
He’s 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 moment’s 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 it’s 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 he’s here? A reason that wouldn’t 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t so far removed that he wasn’t aware of how this must look for him. How it would look to you if you stumbled upon him. You’d 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 didn’t 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 you’d come around eventually if he just talked you through it. You liked him, after all.
You wouldn’t have worn that lingerie for him if you didn’t.
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 didn’t 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 you’d 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 you’d be receptive.
He wanted to love you, not scare you.
And maybe, he could’ve 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 wouldn’t even bat an eye, because you loved him and you knew that side of him didn’t make up who he was fully.
You had too sweet of a heart not to accept him. Maybe, you’d even let him take you back home with him.
But, that best case scenario would only play out in his fantasies, and maybe he should’ve 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 would’ve started to think there was some sort of higher power on his side - overseeing and endorsing all of his misdeeds.
Of course, though, that couldn’t 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 ‘walking it off’.
The sound of your front door unlocking hits Toby’s 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 wouldn’t happen. That, against all odds, you’d come home long after he had disappeared again. But he had been selfish - greedy - overstayed his welcome because he couldn’t fathom the idea of tearing himself away from the things you’d 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 could’ve played it safe. Could’ve 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 wouldn’t run off. Piecing together a game plan for if you did.
Footsteps down the hallway make Toby’s 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 you’re half-convinced you’re 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.
“W-Was hoping you wouldn’t be scared.” Toby murmurs softly, pushing himself up and off the bed. He doesn’t 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. “You’re e-even cuter in person, you know.”
“What the fuck-“ 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, you’d be the type to give him ample time to move in close. He’s thankful for that fact. It’s always easier to deal with the ones who freeze, over the ones who run.
“You-You know who I am?” Toby asks, trying to keep his voice measured. It’s 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.
“What? No.” 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. He’s 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.
‘If you run, I’ll catch you’.
And you’re not quite sure that you want to test that.
“Sure you d-do.” 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. “S-Sure, you don’t know me like this;” He gestures towards himself. “But you kn-know me. Have for a-awhile now.”
“I think you’re mistaken.” 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. “Listen, I don’t know what you want, but-but I don’t have cash or anything-“
“Cash?” Toby barks out a laugh that makes you jump, your entire body tensing up even more. “You think I-I want cash? G-God, no. That’s not h-how this works.”
He meets you at the doorway, tilting his head down to meet your frightened gaze. “I don’t t-take money from you, I give it t-to you, remember?”
Your face twists, a mixture of confusion and dread mixing together on your features into something so delicious it only makes Toby’s smile widen. You’re precious. Clueless. He’s almost tempted to just keep you this way, suspended in the unknown. Scared and clinging onto his every word; it’s a good look on you. “Oh, c-c’mon, don’t act like you ha-haven’t missed me. I’ve been keepin’ track. Watchin’ how s-sad you get when I don’t pop in among the h-hoard of losers you accumulate.”
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. “You m-missed me, yeah?” He murmurs down to you, his voice low. “Tired o-of pretending to like all of those other dumb ff-fucks?” His grip squeezes tighter, and you can’t help but let out a soft whimper. You could practically see him preen at that sound. “You p-put those shows on for me, I kn-know you do.”
You can’t 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 he’s saying is barely even registering for you, just white noise to mix in with the ringing in your ears. That is, until; “Kn-Knew you were mine the d-day you wore red for me.”
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 don’t 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.
“Toby?”
It’s instant, the smile that spreads across Toby’s face - a grin that’s 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 can’t help it when a sharp, elated laugh leaves his lips - his eyes sparkling under the low light with some corrupted form of excitement.
“I kn-knew it!” He breathes out, hot breath fanning against your face when he ducks his head down just a little lower. “Fuck, ha-had me thinking I was c-crazy for a second there. Looking f-for signs where there weren’t any.” His gaze wanders over your face, his expression almost crazed in the way he regards you. It’s then that you notice he’s trembling almost as bad as you are. “But n-no, you did do it for me.” Another soft laugh. “You like me, d-don’t you?”
“Wait-“ You manage out, your voice trembling. “You can’t just-“ Again, you try to wriggle your grip free - to no avail. “You tracked me down?”
Toby’s grin only stretches wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he yanks you in even closer to him. Just a hair’s width away from bumping straight into him. “L-Let go of me-“
“What? D-Did you think it would be hard to?” 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. “You were s-so easy to find, baby. Almost like you wa-wanted me here.”
“That’s not-“
“I think it is.” Toby’s breath fans against your ear, before he’s 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. “I’m not s-stupid, you know. You’ve been n-needing me here. You’ve been n-needing more than the bullshit you f-fuck yourself with.”
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 that’s 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. “Don’t know why you-you’re being shy about it. You’ve already given yourself to me, time and time again.”
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 hadn’t danced your way into this situation. “What?” He murmurs against your skin. “D-Don’t like me now that I’m not throwing c-cash at your feet?”
“You broke into my fucking house.” You hiss, flinching away from his touch. “You stalked me.”
“And you encouraged me.” Toby hums, wrapping his arm fully around you. He’s got you one-upped on both size and strength, so it’s an easy feat to keep you fit snugly against him. He just can’t help it when his heart rate picks up, his mind buzzing with the feel of your soft curves pressed right up on him. It’s a sensation he'd been craving for far too long, and now that it’s real? It’s almost enough to make him drool. He’s sure you can feel his heart hammering against your chest, just as he could feel yours against his. “Y-You wouldn’t have played along if you d-didn’t want to meet me, right? You treated me different.”
He starts to back up, tugging you along with him even as you squirm - slow, controlled movements that show he’s playing the exact same role as he did when he interacted with you. A director. You were just his pretty little actress. “T-Treated me like you wanted me.” He murmurs. “Like the money d-didn’t even matter.”
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. “You’re just m-mad because of how I did it.” Your eyes drop down to his mouth. A split lip, chipped teeth, and stubble trickling down his jaw. “But this is what you wanted eventually, r-right? Me, here?”
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. “Just say you th-thought about me. Don’t gotta hide it.”
“It’s not as simple as that-“ You mutter out, flinching when your toes bump against his. “You were just… Different.”
“Yeah?” Toby smiles down at you, his expression almost too sweet for the situation you’re in. His expression is almost soft, like your words had soothed something deep within him. “D-Different how?”
“Just… Different.” 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. “You felt like… Like talking to a real person.”
“That’s because I a-am.” Toby chuckles softly. “Got all the p-proof right here.” The backs of his knees hit the edge of your bed, and it’s 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. “M’not gonna h-hurt you.” He hums up to you softly, gazing up at you through his lashes as you sit perched on his lap. “That wasn’t the p-plan here.”
“Then what was the plan?” You’re 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 weren’t just going to up and bolt.
“Well, d-depends how nice you’re gonna be.” Toby murmurs lowly. “But whatever r-route it takes to get there, it’s going to end the same way.” A quirk of his lips. “Me, showing you what you’ve been m-missing.”
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. “You-You know I’m not blind. You’ve been needing more. Gettin’ tired of fucking yourself like some pathetic slut.” You feel his lips curl into a grin against your skin, and you shiver. “Right?”
“That’s not-“ 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 isn’t something you should indulge in - you shouldn't be rewarding him for completely disregarding every boundary you had put up. And yet… “It wasn't an invitation.”
“Wasn’t it?” Toby laughs softly, his breath fanning hot against your collar bone. “C’mon… A-All that shit I paid you for? That was just the start of what I w-want to do to you.” His hands give you another soft squeeze, making your jaw clench as you try to bite back a soft noise. “And I came so f-far just to make it happen. Won’t you just let me? Doubt you’ll re-regret it.”
“You can’t- You realize how fucked this is, right?” You breathe out, eyes fluttering. “You had no right-“
“Yeah, I did.” Toby cuts you off as he nuzzles into your hair. “All the s-signs you gave me? I think my reaction was pretty rational.” 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. “Unless you wa-wanna fess up to leading me on.”
“That’s my job-“ 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 couldn’t just go and forget about him, even if you pushed him away right here.
“I know that.” Toby hums. “But the treatment you g-give me? Nah. That’s special t-treatment.” 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. “So now, I think I’ll reap the benefits.” 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. “You’ll let me, w-won’t you?”
It’s a demand in the disguise of a question. You’re not quite sure if ‘no’ 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.
He’s 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 could’ve definitely boded worse, right?
You don’t 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. “There we go.” He murmurs against your neck. “S-See? You’re mine. No point in fighting it.”
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 didn’t even think about the morality of it all. “Feel that?” He murmurs into your ear. “Only ever g-get like this for you. Can’t fuckin’ think.”
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. “Thought a-about it so many times - what you’d f-feel like.” A soft moan fans against your shoulder. “You’re better than I e-ever imagined.”
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. “So fuckin’ soft.” Another wet kiss against your collarbone. “So fuckin’ sweet.”
“Toby-“ 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.
“Sound so g-good saying my name.” He hums back to you. “Like some k-kinda angel.” His hips buck up to meet yours, stealing a gasp from your lungs. It sounds like gospel to his ears. “Tell me you wa-want it.” 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. “Wanna hear it.”
It’s difficult to get the words out, because you already know the answer. You do want it - but you shouldn’t. You should’ve called the cops ages ago. Shouldn’t 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?
“I want it.” It’s 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. “I want you.”
Maybe, just because you’re curious to see if he can back up each claim he’s making. If he really can be everything you’ve been craving.
“You do?” Toby grins - wild, almost manic. “Gonna make you w-wish you got this shit on film.”
You can barely even get a thought in before he’s 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. It’s 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. “G-Gonna treat you good-“ 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. “Been th-thinkin’ about this for months. What I’d do t-to you-“
It’s a whirlwind, how quick Toby moves now that he’s been given the green light. You barely even register getting your shirt off. You blink and your bra’s off too - with two desperate hands coming up to massage your bare tits right after they’ve been freed. “So soft-“ He huffs out. “God- the cameras d-don’t do you justice, baby.”
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 don’t 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. “Perfect. Knew you would be.”
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 doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second - not even to ask you if it was alright. Like he was just so sure you’d say yes, that he didn’t 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. It’s quickly shoved down by the more rational part of you - already knowing that it’s far too late. “G-Gorgeous.” Toby moans out as he tugs the denim down your legs, his breath catching with each new inch of bare skin that’s 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. “G-God- I barely even know where to f-fuckin’ start-“ He says, and yet his hands seem to move quicker than his brain, because he’s tugging your panties to the side before he can even finish his own sentence.
You’re not quite sure what’s more humiliating - the fact that you’re already wet, or the fact that he comments on it. “Look at th-that,” 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. “You really d-do want me, huh? Already f-fuckin’ drenched.” His words aren’t mocking, not even close to cruel - just so incredibly appreciative. “Don’t worry, I g-gotcha.” He hums softly as his hand slides down lower, tugging a gasp from your lungs when his fingers slide through your wetness. “Won’t even have to lift a finger this time a-around.”
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. “You-You’re really gonna be shy now?” He snickers, rolling his thumb against the sensitive nub - soft and slow, just warming you up for what’s to come. “I’ve heard i-it all. Seen it all, already. What’s there to hide from?”
It’s 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. “How are you e-even this tight?” He breathes out, his gaze dropping down to watch as a second finger stretches you out. “Fuckin’ yourself on the d-daily, and you still feel like fucking heaven.”
“T-Toby, fuck-“ 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 can’t 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. “S-Slow down-“ You only ask that because of how quickly he’s winding you up - it’s almost embarrassing.
It’s 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.
“Slow down?” 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. “B-But this is how y-you like it. You f-forgetting who I am? I know you.”
If you had the breath to, you’d correct him. Tell him that he didn’t know you - just a fraction of you. Just the ‘you’ that you deemed perfect enough to display. But, you’re having a hard time stringing two thoughts together, let alone a convincing argument when he’s methodically breaking you down into pieces. “Spent w-weeks watchin’ how you work this pretty little cunt.” He grins. “It ain't too much. Y-You’re just mad I was right.”
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. “You need me. See that now?”
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. “I-If you didn’t, you woulda pushed me away by now.”
And that, you can’t argue with. Because you should’ve pushed him away by now - should’ve 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 doesn’t want to give into it - that wants to try and fend it off - but the majority? It’s just screaming that this is the quickest you’ve ever been able to get off, Toby’s fingers working you just right. Like all his nights of studying you had paid off. He was damn near an expert now. “Hah- I feel it- You’re gonna cum f-for me, aren’t you?”
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. “Dreamt about this shit. G-Give it to me, yeah? Let me feel it. C’mon-“
You just can’t fight it. You’ve 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 ‘winning’ 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 you’re 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 can’t tear his eyes away - can’t 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. “That’s better.” He hums - clearly all too pleased with himself. “Knew you’d been f-faking it on stream.”
“Faking it?” 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. “I never faked anything.”
“Maybe n-not on purpose.” 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. “But what you j-just gave me?” His hand slides back down low again - only a moment’s 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. “That was different. That w-was real.”
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. “And you wanna know s-something?”
You just barely manage to hum in response, with his presence clouding up your senses. It’s 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 you’d smell of him for weeks after the fact. It was just as intoxicating as it was terrifying.
You couldn’t 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 couldn’t 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. “Bet you-you’ll look even prettier cumming around my cock. Stretched just like y-you’ve been wishin’ for.”
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. “Everyone who w-watches you, knows.” In just a t-shirt, your eyes roam the bare skin of his arms. He’s 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. “Can see it on your f-face- You need more. Those t-toys just ain’t cuttin’ it, are they, baby?” A deliberate nudge of his hips makes your brows wrinkle together. “Need the re-real thing.”
You let out a near embarrassed whine, cheeks going pink like you hadn’t just soaked his fingers moments prior. Lucky for you, Toby finds that cute. Unlucky for you, he thinks it’s fun to push it. “C’mon, say it.” A few soft pats against your core make you squirm, your entire body locking up in a mixture of humiliation and arousal. “This p-pretty cunt’s been aching for a real cock, right? Just begging t-to be fucked stupid.”
“Sh-Shut up-“
“That your way of s-saying I’m right?” Toby snickers, leaning back on his haunches to gaze down at you. “Didn’t expect you t-to play coy, with how easy you are on camera.” 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. “Look at th-that face.” Toby grins. “Yeah, see? I-I’ll give it to ya’. Just gotta tell the truth. St-Stop playing, and admit you wanted this.”
And what can you even say? That you didn’t? 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 - that’s 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;
“Yeah, I wanted it.” Which ends up having the exact same effect.
Mere seconds after the words leave your lips, Toby’s 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, he’s 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 he’s 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.
“S-Say I can.” 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. “Tell me you w-want me.”
And you are far past pretending.
“Want you-“ You gasp out, your hips jerking with each nasty roll of his hips. You can feel the mess he’s making between the two of you - sweat and mixing fluids smearing against your pelvis with each press he makes downwards. “Toby- Just fuck me already-“
You can feel it under your fingers when Toby tenses up, his muscles flexing beneath your touch before they relax again - and then, he’s letting out a breathy little laugh.
“N-Nasty fuckin’ mouth.” He’s grinning as he reaches down low, curling his fingers around himself to line himself up properly. “Love that about you.”
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 you’re about to take before he presses in further. For someone who’s seemingly bursting with restless energy, he’s surprisingly slow when he sinks in - but that’s 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 hadn’t 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. “Fuckin’ hell…” 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. “L-Look at you-“ He gasps. “F-Fuck- Look at you-“
His eyes flick back up to yours, pupils blown wide under drooping lids. “S’it feel just as good f-for you, as it does for me?”
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. He’s 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 couldn’t 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.
“You feel perfect.” You breathe back to him, and it’s the whole truth. You couldn’t even dream of lying right now. “Better than I- Than I imagined.”
You let the words slip from your lust clouded mind, and they just do him in.
“Yeah?” He groans softly, his hands keeping you pinned to the sheets as he draws his hips back. “Thought a-about me?” 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. “Kn-Knew you did.”
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. “Didn’t-Didn’t even know what I looked like, b-but you knew you needed me. Needed this.”
The sound of his hips meeting yours is filthy - slick and sticky, enough to make your gut twist. It’s obscene - this entire situation is - but it’s 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. “Fuckin’-“ 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. “Fuckin’ yourself e-every night, wishing it was me.”
It’s 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. “It’s true, r-right?” Another snappy thrust has you arching up into him, Toby taking advantage of that by nudging his face into your neck. “P-Pretending to care about all the other d-dumb fucks, but you were thinking about me. W-Wishing I was there.”
His teeth sink into your neck - hard - not enough to break skin, but definitely enough to bruise. Just another to add to the collection he’s already given you. “Say it.”
“I was!” 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. “Th-Thought about you.” 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 couldn’t 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.
“Y-Yeah, you fuckin’ were-“ 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. “Thinkin’ about me- Fuckin’ this t-tight cunt wishing it was my cock-“
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 it’s just bordering on too much.
It’s an expression he’s never seen on you before. It’s something he’d snap a picture of to immortalize, if his phone wasn't busted.
Yeah, he’s keeping you. He can’t wait to break the news. “G-God, look at this shit-“ 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. “Takin’ it like you were m-made for it.”
And maybe that’s when it clicks for him, that this is the girl he’s watched put herself in the most depraved situations. This is the girl who definitely can take whatever sick desires he’s got brewing.
So, his hands slip upwards, palms gripping the backs of your thighs before he’s pushes up - pinning them right against your chest, your knees damn near touching your ears. Practically folded in half, and yet you don’t 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. It’s 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.
You’re 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. “So fuckin’ pretty-“ 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. “So fuckin’ m-mine-“
It’s 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.
“M’yours-“ You’re 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? It’s messy. It’s something you had strived for on stream because you knew it would get clicks, but you just couldn’t ever make it happen with your own hands. Toby, though, does it easily - fucks you deep until you’re 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.
“E-Even fuckin’ squirting for me?” 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. “You really d-did need me, baby.”
His hands keep your thighs pinned, leaving you nowhere to squirm away, even when you get so sensitive it makes your skin crawl. “Gonna fuckin’ cum in you-“ He gasps out, and you’re almost sure your ass must be red from the force in which his hips are snapping into yours. “Gonna cum s-so deep you’re gonna fuckin’ taste it-“
Even if you wanted to argue that, you can’t - 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 didn’t prove that, his twitching hips sure do.
He only manages a few more sloppy thrusts in, before he’s making good on his promise. His hands keep you folded in half, his cock sinking in deep enough to make you choke before he’s completely letting go. A strangled groan vibrates against your ear as you feel that hot, sticky warmth bloom inside you - Toby’s 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 couldn’t soon erase - even if you wiped the evidence from your flesh. “Feel that?” He murmurs softly, his body curling over yours - his face pressed into your neck as he pants against your skin. “M-Means you’re mine.” His hands give your thighs a tight squeeze, his lips curled into a sated smile against your skin. “Go on and f-fuck another guy after this - he’ll just be fucking me d-deeper into you.”
But that’s something you’re 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.
-
“Toby, c’mon, I’m about to start rolling.”
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 couldn’t 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.
“A-And what’re we going for today, hm?” He hums as he fiddles with the goggles nestled in the strands atop his head. “Got s-specifics for me?”
Your hands are already reaching for him when he draws near, curling into the hood of his sweater and tugging him in closer.
“Nah.” You grin. “Just keep the mask on.”
And that, he can do.
——————————
HIIIIIIIIII I’ve been teasing this one for ages now lmfao can’t 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!
Genuinely I don't know what I'm doing anymore, anyways, Ticci Toby smut!
Basically Tim and Brian brought you and Toby alongside them on a mission. Except they expect you two to watch over the truck and stay there. But you both get bored and well...
WARNINGS: Smut, fucking in a vehicle, p in v, headlock, biting, oral fem receiving, description of genitalia, mentions of breeding, fingering, nipple play, mating press, doggy style, Toby being a needy little perv.
Toby's hands gripped your plush thighs, using them for leverage as his tongue dove into your wet folds. He was hungry.
He slobbered all over your cunt like a desperate puppy, saliva leaked from his cheek gash and you only encourage him by gripping his brown locks desperately.
"F-Fuck...." He groaned and lapped with a strong need, he needed you. His bulge was already pressing up against the floor of the truck bed and precum leaked in his pants.
He looked up at you, his cute tired eyes stared at you with such love and desperation.
His fingers were shoved into your throbbing hot cunt, insistently curling to get you off. He fingers were so invasive.
The dual stimulation of his mouth and fingers really built up your orgasm, until your release came crashing down.
Toby latched his needy mouth around your plush mound and swallowed everything, his eyes rolled back and he groaned deeply.
Once he finished eating, he pulled back and licked his lips before diving down onto you to kiss your lips. It was more like he was eating your face.
You could feel his bulge throbbing against you, and he started really rubbing himself on you. Letting you feel just how horny he was for you, reduced to a needy mindless dog.
He panted and began undoing his jeans, pulling them down and his underwear was tented. A wet sticky spot had formed around his tip.
You reached out and palmed his cock, he moaned and rutted his cock against your hand.
You pulled it out of his underwear and it stood eagerly.
His tip was broad and mushroom shaped, glistening with precum and throbbing hot.
"P-Please...I need to...." He didn't even finish speaking before he recklessly pushed you back and lined his tip up with your wet hole.
His hips stuttered in and frantically fucked deeper into you.
"T-Toby~" he held you down in a mating press, most convenient for him to fuck both of you mindless.
He had a strong grip on your hips, and he just wouldn't stop ramming into you.
His cock fully nested inside of you, the only time he even paused was to press down on your soft tummy to make you feel every inch.
Toby then used his strength to manhandle you to lay face down and he hitched your ass up. He was gonna fully mount you
He slammed his cock back into you, he penetrated deeper in this new angle, and his arm went around your neck to keep you in a headlock.
He kept you underneath him, mounted like he was trying to breed you and keep you all to himself.
His mouth found your shoulder and munched down. His cock insistently slammed into you, causing these delicious moans to come from your lips.
Toby was a bit reckless but oh how he fucked...
His other arm that wasn't keeping you in a headlock went to go grasp your tits. He playfully squeezed them and salivated once he touched your nipples through your bra. He palmed them until they hardened, every thrust and movement caused your bra to shift and add even more friction.
This was so...so...so-
The truck started and drove quickly. Tim and Brian had returned, didn't even want to look at the disgusting scene going on in the truck bed. Tim was so fucking pissed off, he didn't want to be considerate.
He just started driving off, even rapidly turning left and right to make the truck shake. Driving recklessly just to throw the two of you around.
You and Toby panicked, you were both so utterly fucked when Tim gets his hands on you both.
Worth it.
~~~~~~~~~
Hey it's Cami, I don't have much to say. Sorry if this sucked, but I hope you all enjoyed this maybe kinda not really!
Summary: It’s all fun and games living alone, until you start to feel like you’re 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?
…Right?
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, that’s what you thought, at least for a while. That’s what made it all the more confusing, all the more unsettling, when suddenly… You didn’t 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 someone’s boots, or bushes and trees rustling wildly when there didn’t seem to be any wind. You figured you must be imagining this, right? Paranoia, isn’t 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.
That’s 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 didn’t 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,
“Just let me in,” He cooed, almost in a sing-song voice, “You’re going to end up get-getting hurt, sweetheart. Don’t want that, d-nghh d-do we?”
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.
“All right, then. Have it your w-way.” 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 couldn’t 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.
“T-t-Fuck-told ya,” He laughed, “Didn’t wanna hurt y-you, y’know.” His voice was shockingly soft, wasn’t scary sounding. You noticed him jerking his head to the side as he swore. But you didn’t 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 he’s 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 couldn’t 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. “What is it? H-huh? Cat got your tongue?”
You swallowed thickly, still feeling vulnerable and very much frightened. “Who..? I… wha- Why?” You pleaded, your own eyes searching his for a shred of humanity, and his remained fixed on you, boring into you. “Why are you doing this?”
He didn’t 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.
“S-s’pretty.” He whispered, sounding almost awe-struck, and finally his grip loosened. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, and turned your head back to face him. The fabric near his lips wrinkled, like he was smiling. “So much be-be-Fuck-better up close.” 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.
“Oh. N-no, no.” he muttered, raising a hand to wipe at some stray tears you didn’t notice had started to fall. “Don’t cry, pretty g-girl. I’m not going to hurt you.” 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.
“What’s this? Don’t act a-all shy, now.” He teased, ducking his head down at an angle, so that he could look at your face. “W-wasn’t so when you were p-puttin’ on all those little shows for me.” Your stomach dropped, your brain working into a frenzy. Shows? What shows? Then it clicked, he’s 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.
“Y-yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He growled, catching your eyes as you forced yourself to look back up at him. “Like bein’ peeped on, don’tcha?” 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. “D-dirty little liar,” he crooned, “can feel the f-f-fuckin’ heat radiatin’ offa you.” 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.
“Fuck, you fuckin’ want this, don’t you?” He muttered, face still pressed into your neck. “Can fuckin’ feel it…Can practically fuckin’ t-t-taste it.” You whined as he pressed firmly on your clit, then slid his fingers back through your folds, gathering your wetness. “So fuckin’ wet. Does it feel good? Gettin’ fingered by some random guy that broke into your hou-house?”
You bit your lip, feeling shame and disgusted with yourself. He was right, you shouldn’t be enjoying this, shouldn’t 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. “Such a t-tight little cunt,” he taunts, now curling his fingers in a come-hither motion, nudging at a sensitive spot inside of you, “fuckin’ grippin’ m’fingers.”
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. “Lick it off.” 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. “G-good. That’s it, lick it up. Such a good g-g-girl.” 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. “Gonna fuck you…” he breathed, “g-gonna fill you up so good, my cum’ll be leakin’ outta you for d-days.”
The thought of it made you moan gently, and you locked eyes with him. His were dark and penetrating your own, and you couldn’t 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.
“Yeah, you want that, don’t you? Look at you, s-s-Fuck-sittin’ there thinkin’ about it.” His head jerks again, but he doesn’t 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. He’s turning you on so much you can’t 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.
“Wanna hear you scream my n-name as I fuckin’ pound you. It’s T-Toby, got it? Toby.” He said breathlessly, almost mindlessly as he ground down onto you in haste. You nod pathetically, but that doesn’t satisfy him. He gripped your jaw tightly, his other hand kept him propped up above you. “F-fuckin’ say it,” he groans, “say it! Beg me t-to fuck you, you mindless little who-whore.” You whine, gripping at his wrist tightly, “please, please just fuck me, please, Toby, I want it.” 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.
“Ohh, fuck,” he moaned as he bottomed out, and you felt yourself clench around him, sucking him in. “Squeezin’ me so t-tight, suckin’ me in, you greedy li-little whore.” 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.
“Fuck, Toby, so fuck-fucking good,” 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. “Wanna see you,” 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.
“Y-you scared?” He pants, looking at your shocked expression, but you don’t 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. “Yeah, that turning you o-on?” He whines, and moans deeply when your hand shifts to brush over his scarred face, your fingers brushing the ridges of his exposed teeth. “Such a fucked up little slu-slut. Gettin” off on my fucked up face as I destroy you.” 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, “Gonna c-cum. Gonna fill you up.” 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. Toby’s 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. “I-I gotta go,” he mutters, “but I’ll be b-back. Just keep that door unlocked.” He adds with a boyish laugh, and pulls his mask back over his lips. He makes his way toward the door and turns, “Bathe. You’ll feel be-better.” 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 it’s not proofread and probably has so many mistakes and a garbage plot but whatever :’)
creepypasta x afab reader | nsfw | what they're like in bed
characters : jeff the killer, eyeless jack, ticci toby, jane the killer
cws : vaginal penetration, overstimulation, choking, cunnilingus, blood play, cock warming, free use, squirting, mirror sex, over all just a lot of kinks
a/n : another set of headcanons! let me know in the comments if you would like to see a part two with other characters! requests are open at the moment so don't be shy to send me any! or just to talk about our self indulgent ideas teehee. enjoy reading xoxo
jeffery woods | jeff the killer
until you, jeff was absolutely a virgin. the opportunity just never presented itself! now, this does not stop him from being the horny little freak he is. he has watched one too many adult videos and read one too many racy magazines. so he's not starting at ground zero. but with that being said, he doesn't have any real experience. you're going to have to guide him to do what you want, otherwise he's just going to try and replicate what he's seen thus far.
he prefers it rough and hard, sex is just sex to him. lovemaking isn't really jeff's style. it will take a while until he gets used to the idea of foreplay. what do you mean you're not just ready to go when he is? (no jeffery it doesn't work like that). at first he's very much under the idea that all of that extra stuff is pointless. and then he eats you out for the first time. suddenly he understands why foreplay is so important. he quickly becomes addicted to making you squirm under his touch. he loves to overstimulate you, making you beg for him to let you cum. power is such a turn on for him, especially when it feeds into his already massive ego.
he's a kinky motherfucker too let me tell you. he lives under the idea that he's willing to try just about anything once. his personal favorites are choking you and roleplaying. pretend to be his helpless victim and he's bursting at the seams. he likes to throw you around a little bit, pulling into that power he constantly craves. communication is definitely very important with jeff because he can and will get carried away. he would never want to actually hurt you but it's a blurry line between pain and pleasure. with him, both are very important.
jeff does have a rather high sex drive. look at him with those sultry eyes and he's already carrying you to the bedroom. he's shameless with asking you for sex as well. if he even asks. he's definitely the type to just come up behind you and start grinding, silently asking for your permission. oh you're busy? he can fuck you while you keep working, no worries. he loves his little doll so much, he can't help it!
jack nyras | eyeless jack
the freakiest freak to ever freak. he's into things that don't even have a name. and his skill in bed? unmatched, i don't care if its biased. jack has abilities that no normal human does. he has a better understanding of your anatomy than you even do. he'll know just how to edge you until your body physically can't handle the pleasure anymore. and he does just that...quite often. jack is an observant creature, he quickly adapts to your personal wants and needs. he has a skill for picking up the smallest of sounds and learning just how to draw them out of your pretty lips.
when it comes to sex itself, jack is calculated. he alternates between the most jaw dropping raunchy sex known to mankind to something sweet and intimate. while he might be rather stone faced, he's very aware of your emotional needs. there are times when he does lose self control during sex and absolutely begins to pummel you. on night's like that, don't expect to be leaving the bedroom for a while. but normally, he enjoys taking his sweet time with you. exploring your perfect body and learning just how to please you.
obviously this man has such a knack for edging you but aside from that he's also really into cock warming and blood play. he'll have you sitting on his dick for an hour before he finally begins to move. he just thinks you look so beautiful sitting on him like that! he'll constantly be nipping at your skin during sex. he loves leaving little bites and marks along your body. most of the time, it does draw blood, but your mind won't be left to linger on that as he licks up every last drop. also has a huge thing for size differences. not necessarily between your bodies but he loves watching you struggle to take his dick.
his sex drive is constantly changing and completely unpredictable. there are times the two of you will go without sex for days and then suddenly he has you in bed ALL day long. don't worry, he makes up for his inconsistent sex drive ;)
tobias rogers | ticci toby
also a virgin until you came along, but oddly skilled? the first time the two of you had sex you were like "are you sure you haven't done this before?" the opportunity had definitely presented itself to him before but toby is choosey with who he lets into his life. he has a lot of trauma that has led him to be extremely paranoid when it comes to relationships. that includes sex. but luckily for you, his lack of experience certainly doesn't show. he's willing to do anything to please you. definitely more of a giver than receiver!
he prefers passionate sex, usually in the spur of the moment. emotion and sex go hand in hand to him. so whenever he feels something strongly, he instantly wants to take it out in the bedroom. just let him bury his pretty face between your thighs and you're golden! it's his favorite place to be anyhow! he's usually the giver during sex but pull an uno reverse and please him? i'm afraid the man will simply perish upon contact. the entire time he's so sweet about it, telling you how good you make him feel and how well you're doing.
toby likes to explore a variety of kinks with lots of communication throughout. the only ones he shy's away from are ones that involve seriously hurting you. choking, spanking, pussy slapping, all of that is fine. but cutting you? he's hesitant with kinks of that nature. it goes against his instincts to take care of you and protect you. the one's he gravitates towards are free use and squirting. he loves when he gets to use your pussy for his personal use. the entire time he'll have his forehead against your shoulder, thanking you for allowing him to fuck you. and squirting? the first time he got you to do it, he froze like a deer in headlights. and then quickly switched to "do it again :0".
as i said before, he tends to tie emotions to sex. so his sex drive is a bit unpredictable. now, toby is an emotional person, he feels things very passionately. so there usually isn't much of a gap between when he asks for sex. it just tends to happen out of the blue. not that you mind (teehee).
jane richardson | jane the killer
power bottom. she's definitely more experienced than many of the other creeps, and it shows in the bedroom. she knows just how to please you as you ride her strap. don't mistake her being a bottom as being submissive. she's absolutely in control the entire time. she'll buck her hips up into you, hitting that sweet spot until you simply melt on top of her. she loves the view as you ride her, and it's definitely her favorite position. jane is more of a boobs girl so watching your tits bounce the entire time is the highlight of sex for her.
jane loves to take her time with you, never rushing sex. quickies aren't really her thing. she wants to savor your body, to taste every fraction of your skin. she's a passionate person to begin with, and it follows her into the bedroom. she wants you to know just how much she adores you. how much she worships you. one thing about being in a relationship with jane? there will never be an opportunity for insecurity to gnaw away at you. she's always a very giving partner, making sure you know just how beautiful she finds you.
kink wise? jane is very into lingerie and katoptronophilia (mirror sex). she loves the idea of you getting all dolled up for her! the quickest way to turn jane on is to buy some form of racy lingerie. her absolute favorite is anything black and lacey. it makes her feel so special that you would do all of that just for her! she likes taking the time to admire each and every detail as she slowly removes it piece by piece. especially if she makes you watch it while she does! jane has one of those big mirrors in her room just to fuck you in front of. "do you see how pretty you look around my fingers?" she'll ask you from behind, her hand holding your face up to look in the mirror while the other fingers you.
she has a high sex drive and likes to keep the passion going even when the two of you are apart. throughout the day she loves both giving and receiving suggestive pictures. it gives her something to look forward to when she gets home! (you will be a mess by the end of the night).
─────────────────────────────────── ego - romy mars
── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.
CONTAINS NSFW MINORS DNI
✦ . Summary: You hate Toby Rogers. Hate. He’s immature, and whiny, and gets in your way more often than not. Proxies are meant to work together, but you two just don’t. Fights are prone to happen, but when your hands accidentally find his throat, Toby accidentally finds out that he likes it. You hate him. And he hates you. So why can he suddenly not jerk off without thinking about your hands on his neck? Why does he want you to do it again??
✦ . Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader, Proxies
✦ . Note: Suprise fic! Please please please mind the tags, there’s a whole lot going on in this story. Yes, this was supposed to be the German Toby fic, but I decided I was too lazy to follow through, so white-boy Toby it is 💔 Nonetheless, please enjoy whiny Toby! I’ve been wanting to make a reader-dominant fic for a while, and I finally got around to it! Happy reading!!
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You hated Tobias Rogers. Hated. Even now.
The lake was so still. The kind of stillness that made the air heavy, as if even the water held its breath in anticipation. Moonlight fractured across the surface in sharp, silver shards, illuminating the awkward shapes of two figures dragging something heavy across the moss-slick ground.
You and Toby.
The corpse hung between you like an anchor, its weight making your arms ache with each step. The smell of damp earth and decay was thick in your nose. Every time Toby shifted his grip, the body smacked against the ground with a dull thud.
“Careful,” you hissed, slipping on a wet root. “It’s not going to sink if you—”
“Maybe if you d-didn’t drop your end every t-two seconds,” Toby grunted, voice muffled under his bulky muzzle, “we’d be done a-al-already.”
You glared, tugging on your end. “Excuse me for not wanting to ruin my boots in swamp water.”
“Oh, right,” he shot back, sarcasm dripping, “because t-this job is about fashion.”
The two of you stumbled to the edge of the shore, shadows from the Slenderwoods curling around you. The trees loomed like sentinels, tall and skeletal, their branches swaying with a sound that was almost a whisper. You hated this place at night—the way the silence seemed alive, watching, waiting. Toby, of course, didn’t seem to care. He didn’t care about anything, as far as you were concerned.
You heaved the body once, twice, then shoved it into the water with a final grunt. It splashed hard, ripples spreading outward until the lake swallowed them whole. You didn’t know the man, didn’t even really care to, it was just another job from the Operator. For a moment, you both just stood there, catching your breath, staring at the dark water as the final inches of the body sunk into the abyss.
“Happy now?” you muttered.
“Real p-pro-professional,” he replied flatly.
Your teeth ground together. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re a pain in the ass,” he shot back without hesitation.
The exchange was so familiar it almost felt rehearsed. Every mission ended like this: harsh words, rolled eyes, and the tension of two people forced into each other’s orbit who simply didn’t fit. The only difference is Masky wasn’t here to break it up.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried.
When Slender first made you both proxies, you’d done what Masky and Hoodie told you: learn each other’s strengths, cover each other’s weaknesses, trust is mandatory. And you tried. You really did. But from the very first mission, something had been off.
Maybe it was his immaturity—the way he cracked jokes in the middle of grim work, or the way he blew off orders to do things his own reckless way. Maybe it was your frustration—your need for control clashing violently against his chaos. Every step he took felt like it undermined yours. Every word out of his mouth made your patience snap just a little thinner.
You weren’t blind, though. You saw how efficient he was, how quickly his hatchets moved, how easily he carried violence without hesitation. He was good—annoyingly good. Which made it worse. Because you should have worked well together. You were both proxies, bound to the same faceless master, trapped in the same mansion and forest. On paper, it made sense. In practice? You were oil and water.
Some people just weren’t meant to click.
“Guess we’re d-done here,” Toby muttered, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, the brief flare of orange glow painting his face in harsh lines as he unstrapped his muzzle to take a drag. “W-We’ll never get a-along, will we?”
You gave a humorless laugh, wiping splatters of mud from your jeans. “Not a chance.”
He exhaled smoke into the night, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “Fine by me.”
The lake was silent again, just as still as if there wasn’t a body sinking to the bottom now. You turned, hauling back toward the direction of the mansion and away from him, but the walk back was worse than the mission itself. The Slenderwoods closed in on all sides, branches scraping like claws, owls hooting too low, too human. Every shadow moved if you stared too long, but none of that was as grating as the boy trudging a few feet beside you.
“You could’ve at least waited before stabbing him like that,” you grumbled, pulling your jacket tighter against the chill. “The plan was to corner him—”
“The p-plan was slow,” Toby interrupted, his voice sharp and smug. “He was running. I stopped h-him. Problem solved.”
“Problem solved?” you scoffed. “You nearly blew our cover, dipshit. He screamed loud enough to wake the entire county.”
Toby snorted, kicking a stone off the path. “Still got h-him in the end, didn’t we? He’s f-fish food now. You’re welcome.”
You threw him a glare sharp enough to cut. “I didn’t ask you to play hero. There’s a difference between efficiency and being reckless, and you wouldn’t know it if it hit you in the face.”
He tilted his head, grinning as he puffed a dark cloud of cigarette smoke towards you. “Guess t-that makes me reckless, then.”
The banter didn’t stop until the looming silhouette of the mansion swallowed you both in its shadow. The Slendermansion sat hunched at the edge of the woods, its black windows like hollow eyes. The air grew heavier the closer you got, as if the walls themselves were listening, feeding.
Inside, the floorboards creaked beneath your boots as you tossed your gear onto the table in the main hall. The familiar smell of stale smoke, mildew, and faint copper clung to the air, but it was the home you knew. Masky was already there, arms crossed, watching the two of you like a teacher sick of breaking up the same fight between the same students.
“You two done?” Masky asked flatly, eyes narrowing.
“Ask him,” you said at once.
“Ask her,” Toby fired back.
Masky groaned, dragging a hand down his mask. “Every damn time…”
From the couch, Hoodie let out a quiet snicker without looking up from his notebook he was sketching in. He never interfered much, but the slight shake of his shoulders told you he found your constant arguments entertaining. Infuriatingly entertaining.
Kate was sprawled in one of the armchairs, cleaning one of her knives with a rag. She raised her eyes just long enough to catch the tail end of your glare-and-growl routine. “You both need to grow up,” she said bluntly.
You opened your mouth to protest, but Toby beat you to it. “I a-am grown up,” he said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, flicking the final ashes from his cigarette onto the grimy floor before tossing it.
Kate arched a brow. “Mhm.”
You smirked at that, but it only lasted a second before Toby turned his mockery back on you. “D-D-Don’t get too fuckin’ cheeky—you’re not e-exactly winning any maturity awards e-either.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Says the guy who nearly fucked up tonight’s mission by charging in like a bulldozer.”
“And you would’ve l-let him get away while you m-made a speech ab-about ‘proper execution,’” Toby countered, mimicking your voice in a whiny falsetto that made Hoodie snort louder.
“Unbelievable,” you muttered, throwing yourself into the opposite armchair with a huff.
Masky’s sigh was sharp, final. “I don’t care how you got it done. The point is, it’s done. Next time, don’t cause such a fuss and just get the damn thing over with.”
The words settled between you like a warning. But even warnings didn’t last long in this house. The air was too thick, the walls too close. You felt Toby’s eyes on you from across the room, smug, as if he’d won something.
You looked away first.
And that was the problem. Around Masky, Hoodie, and Kate, you could breathe. The dynamic worked. Missions went smoothly enough. The mansion felt tolerable, almost like a twisted version of family. But with Toby? It was always barbed words, tense silences, and the gnawing thought that you’d never, ever get along.
And yet… you were stuck together, whether you liked it or not.
── .✦
Life in the mansion was cramped, but not in the physical sense. The house itself stretched wide and tall, with too many rooms, too many halls that seemed to change direction when you weren’t looking. Space wasn’t the problem. People were. Or more specifically—Toby.
Morning started with a fight more often than breakfast.
You were standing in the kitchen, half-awake, nursing a chipped mug of bitter coffee when Toby barreled in, raiding the cabinet like a raccoon.
“Did you ta-take the last of t-the cereal?” he asked, voice scratchy from sleep.
“No,” you said, sipping slowly. “Kate did yesterday.”
Toby pulled the box down anyway, stared at the empty bottom, and turned on you. “So you k-knew and didn’t say an-anything?”
“Not my job to babysit your stomach,” you said dryly, turning your back on him.
By the time he stomped off, Hoodie was already leaning against the doorway, watching the exchange like it was a morning sitcom rerun. He muttered something about “placing bets next time” before pouring his own coffee and disappearing.
Later, it was weapons.
You had your knives laid out on the coffee table, sharpening them methodically, when Toby came over and plucked one up without asking.
“Don’t touch my stuff.”
“Relax,” he said, flipping the blade in his palm. “I was j-just looking.”
“Looking with your fingerprints all over it,” you snapped, snatching it back.
Masky’s sigh from the couch was loud enough to shake the windows. “I swear, it’s like living with children.”
Kate didn’t even look up from the book in her lap. “That’s because it is.”
Toby threw his hands up. “What, so s-she can throw a fit but I’m the p-problem?”
“Yes,” Kate and Masky said in unison. You couldn’t help smirking at that.
Dinner was the worst.
The table was long enough for space, but somehow you and Toby always ended up across from each other. Tonight it was stew—Masky’s attempt at “normalcy,” though the meat was questionable at best. You didn’t eat together often, but it was a joint effort when you did.
“Don’t hog the b-bread,” Toby said, reaching across the table.
“I’ve had one piece,” you shot back, yanking the plate closer.
He lunged, you pulled away, and in the struggle the whole loaf toppled onto Hoodie’s lap. He froze, staring down at the mess, then at both of you with the slow, simmering irritation of a man two seconds from throwing something heavy. Kate snorted. Masky pinched the bridge of his nose.
Slender wasn’t around much, but you sometimes wondered if he kept you two paired just for his own amusement. Because every day, it was something. The fights were never big enough to break anything, never serious enough to leave bruises. But they stacked. They simmered. They filled the halls like static, humming between every word and every glare. And yet, for all the irritation, all the arguments, neither of you ever walked away for long. Missions still got done. The mansion still ran. Somehow, despite it all, the two of you stayed orbiting each other—gravitational pull you couldn’t escape, even if you wanted to.
── .✦
It was one of those heavy, still evenings where the Slenderwoods felt closer than usual. The air smelled like damp pine and smoke, a thick fog mist rolling over the dense grass underfoot. You and the others sat out on the creaking porch, ashtrays cluttered between boots and half-empty bottles of water. Masky smoked slow and deep, his mask balancing on the top of his thigh as he leaned back onto the wooden seat. Kate leaned back against the railing, picking at the chipping paint on the wood, eyes sharp but distant. Toby sat a little too close to you, tapping his leg like a drumbeat you couldn’t ignore.
You lit your own, trying not to acknowledge him, exhaling a sharp cloud into the humid night.
“So…” Toby finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Anyone e-else notice she always steals the li-lighter first?”
You shot him a look. “I do not.”
“Shut up, boy.” Masky started.
“Yeah, you do,” he said, grinning beneath the thick goggles that he had pushed up into his hairline. “It’s l-like a compulsion or something.”
“Or maybe you’re just too slow to keep track of your things,” you fired back.
Masky groaned low under his breath, muttering something that sounded like not this again. Before the argument could spiral, Hoodie pushed open the porch door and stepped outside, tucking his notebook into his jacket. His voice cut through the quiet with the weight of a dumbbell on your chest. “New mission,” he said simply.
Everyone straightened.
“All of us?” Masky asked.
Hoodie nodded. “Yeah. Orders came down. Tonight.”
The group exchanged looks. Missions that required everyone weren’t common—they usually split duties to keep the mansion covered. When all five were pulled, it meant something bigger, something messier.
“Guess family outing it is,” Kate said dryly, dumping her ashtray onto the gravel siding below.
── .✦
When darkness settled fully, the mansion stirred alive. Boots thudded against wood floors, gear clinked against belts, and weapons gleamed under dim light. Everyone had their rituals: Masky checked his sidearm three times at least, Hoodie adjusted straps across his chest, Kate wiped down her blade a final time. Toby spun his hatchets between his fingers like a magician showing off. You rolled your eyes and double-checked the knives at your thigh. The air was thick with anticipation.
The pickup truck waited outside, dark paint faded from the sun, battered, and smelling faintly of gasoline and smoke. Masky slid into the driver’s seat without a word, Hoodie riding shotgun as he pulled up the map on his cracked cellphone.
That left the back.
You climbed in, immediately pressed against the left side. Toby hopped up on the right, his knee bouncing instantly like he was vibrating with restless energy. Kate sighed and planted herself squarely between the two of you, arms crossed, glaring dead ahead through the windshield. The truck dipped and squeaked on its hinges are you all settled in, then rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the black woods.
It only took a few minutes before Toby started.
“You’re sitting t-too close,” he muttered.
“I’m not even near you,” you said flatly.
“You do-don’t need that m-much space.”
“You don’t need to breathe, but here we are,” you shot back.
Kate’s elbows shot out, hitting both of your ribs at once. “Shut up. Both of you.”
You winced, rubbing your side. “Ow—”
“Don’t tempt me to hit harder,” Kate warned, eyes forward.
Masky’s voice floated back from the front seat, dripping with amusement despite himself. “This is going to be a long drive. Quit fighting and occupy yourselves.”
Hoodie didn’t even look up from the map. “Longest one yet.”
The engine hummed, the woods blurred past, and the truck rolled deeper into the dark. Despite Kate’s solid wall between you, you could still feel Toby’s presence—like static in the air, buzzing just out of reach. And you hated how much you noticed it.
── .✦
The truck rattled down the backroads for nearly an hour before Hoodie finally spoke.
“Target’s in the clearing past Miller’s Gorge,” he said, tapping the map image across his phone screen. “Couple of locals have been sniffing around the woods, talking about setting up cameras, trying to ‘catch something.’ Boss wants them gone one way or another.”
Kate exhaled a sharp breath. “So like, wannabe monster hunters.”
“Exactly.” Hoodie’s voice was calm but clipped. “They’ve already posted online. If they get anything solid, Slender won’t be happy. This isn’t one we can take half-measures with. We need it erased.”
Masky grunted. “So we wipe the whole camp.”
“Why all of us?” you asked, leaning forward from the back.
“Because there’s at least five of them,” Hoodie replied. “Armed. And cautious. Not idiots out for ghost stories—people who want proof. People who will fight back. They apparently realize that the stuff they’re hunting is more than just ghosts.”
The weight of his words settled in the truck. Everyone went quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and Toby’s restless knee bouncing against the truck bed.
“Should b-be fun,” Toby muttered.
── .✦
When the truck finally rolled to a stop, the woods were suffocatingly dark, thick with crickets and the distant sound of running water. Masky killed the headlights, and everyone piled out, boots crunching softly against dead leaves.
The air was tense but focused. The group fanned out at the tree line, eyes scanning the faint glow of campfire in the distance. Voices drifted—male, confident, laughing, the kind of laugh people made when they didn’t know what waited for them.
Masky handed out orders quietly. “Pairs. Hoodie with Kate. I’ll take her. Toby—” He paused, as if even he hated saying it. “You circle wide and cut off any stragglers.”
Toby scoffed. “Solo? Figures.”
“No one wants to deal with your noise,” Kate said bluntly, earning a sharp laugh from Hoodie.
Toby shot her a look, but Masky had already moved, tilting his head toward you. “Stay sharp.”
You fell in beside him easily. Working with Masky was… natural. His movements were measured, precise, and he didn’t waste time on unnecessary words. You mirrored his pace without thinking, both of you flowing silently through the trees like you’d trained together for years. Every signal he gave, you read instantly. Every shift you made, he accounted for. It was seamless.
Behind you, faintly, you heard the sound of Toby muttering curses under his breath as he hacked through brush on his solo path. You didn’t have to see him to know he was irritated.
Masky glanced your way briefly, as if he could read your thoughts. “Ignore him.”
You smirked faintly. “That’s the plan.”
Together, you and Masky reached the edge of the camp without a sound. You crouched low, watching the five men move lazily around the fire, rifles slung across the backs of their folding chairs, a camera rig propped against a log. Beer cans were littered everywhere, dozens of containers of eaten food and trash on the forest floor between their tents. They were unprepared.
Masky leaned close, voice low. “On my signal, we take the two closest. Hoodie and Kate will flank right. Toby will cut off anyone who runs.”
You nodded, knives already loose in your grip. The firelight flickered across the blades, and the thrill of the hunt tingled in your chest.
For the first time all night, you felt steady. Focused. Like the tension from the mansion and the truck ride had melted away into clarity. This—this was what you were good at.
Masky snapped his fingers, the unspoken signal.
The campfire crackled, throwing lazy sparks into the night. The men didn’t know they were being watched. Didn’t know that five shadows had slipped into their circle of light like wolves closing in.
Masky moved first. His pistol coughed quietly through the silencer, a muted pop, and the man nearest the fire slumped forward without a sound. At the same time, Hoodie slipped behind the next, arm locking around his throat, blade pressing in until the man’s gurgle faded. Kate was quicksilver, gliding from shadow to shadow before sinking her knife between ribs and twisting, her target crumpling into the dirt while her hand held tight over his gaping mouth. You were already in motion, your knives flashing as you closed the distance. Your target barely had time to look up before you drove steel across his throat. Hot blood spilled, spraying across the fire, sizzling as it hit the flames. You let him drop, pulse steady, breathing smooth.
It was clean. Precise. The four of you moved like clockwork.
Then a shout split the clearing.
You spun, heart lurching, eyes scanning. One of them had bolted—no, not bolted. He’d seen and decided to fight back. Toby’s voice rang out through the trees, strained, guttural. “Got one!”
Through the smoke, you saw him—locked in a brutal struggle with the biggest of the group. Broad-shouldered, stronger than the others, swinging wild fists that clipped Toby’s jaw and nearly sent him sprawling. Toby snarled, teeth bared beneath the thick muzzle, trying to drag the fight into control, but the man was too strong, too desperate. Toby couldn’t feel the punches that were thrown, but they still jarred him nonetheless.
Without thinking, you darted forward. You grabbed the hunter by the collar and yanked him backward off Toby, the two of you wrestling him to the ground. Your knee pressed into his chest, pinning him just long enough to shout—
“Get up! Now!”
Toby staggered to his feet, hatchet already in his grip. His chest heaved, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes wild and bright. He didn’t hesitate.
The hatchet swung.
It sank into the man’s skull with a sickening crunch, the force so hard it sprayed hot blood across your face, soaking into your shirt, spattering down your arms. The warmth hit before the shock did.
You gasped, jerking back in disgust. “Toby!”
He yanked the hatchet free, crimson dripping down the blade, chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. For a second, he looked almost proud of himself.
“You—you just—” You swiped at your face, smearing blood across your cheek. “Are you serious?!”
“What?” he said, shrugging like he hadn’t just drenched you. “I-It worked.”
You stared at him, mouth open, hands sticky with blood. “You could’ve aimed! You could’ve waited until I—”
“There wasn’t time!” he shot back, bristling. “He was go-gonna throw you off. I finished i-it!”
“Finished it? You fuckin’ soaked me with it!” Your voice cracked, frustration boiling over. Blood dripped down your face, sticky, hot, stinking of iron. And Toby just stood there, smug behind his mouth guard, hatchet still wet, staring you up and down.
That was it. You lunged at him.
“HEY—” he barked, staggering back as you grabbed a fistful of his hoodie and slammed him into the dirt. You smeared bloody hands across his face, dragging thick crimson streaks down and across his eyes.
“There!” you spat, shoving harder. “How do you like it?”
Toby snarled and shoved back, the two of you tumbling into a heap of thrashing limbs. He rolled, trying to pin you, but you twisted, fist snapping across his jaw. The crack of impact echoed, sharp in the clearing.
“You’re insane!” he growled, throwing a hand that glanced off your shoulder.
“I’m insane?” you shouted, driving your elbow into his ribs. “You’re the one who—”
The words cut off when you shoved your hands to his throat, pinning him to the ground as he tried to sit up. Your fingers locked tight, squeezing hard. His body bucked beneath you, hatchet clattering out of his grip as he clawed at your wrists.
“Get—off—” he choked, his voice rough, broken. His head thrashed in the dirt, but your grip only tightened. The blood smeared across both of you now, sticky and warm, the world narrowing to the sound of his ragged gasps and the hammering of your pulse.
“Dammit!” Masky barked from somewhere beyond. “Enough!”
Kate’s voice cut sharper. “You’re gonna kill each other!”
But you didn’t stop. Not yet. Not until you felt his pulse falter beneath your palms, until his eyes widened—not with anger, not with panic—but something else.
Something strange.
Toby’s body trembled, his breath stuttering under your hands, but instead of pure desperation, there was… heat. A rush. A dizzying flood through his veins that wasn’t entirely fear. He should have been furious, terrified, clawing harder. But as your fingernails dug into his skin and the world blurred at the edges of his vision, something dark curled inside him. Something you could physically see stirring in him.
“You’re…crazy…” he rasped, the grip of your wrists faltering as his eyelids began to flutter. You felt your heart skip, but it wasn’t enough to register, not when Masky and Kate were on you in a second.
“Enough!” Masky barked, grabbing you by the shoulders and hauling you backward with a force that made your chest wrench from Toby’s throat. Kate shoved between the two of you, her knife still tight in her hand, eyes blazing.
“Are you out of your mind?” she snapped at you. “You’re both fucking children.”
You jerked in Masky’s grip, still seething, still tasting the heat of rage in your mouth. “He’s a fucking idiot!”
Toby rolled onto his side, coughing, ragged gasps rattling out of him. One hand clutched at his throat, the other dug into the dirt, nails carving furrows. Blood was smeared across his face, his hoodie, everywhere—but he wasn’t looking at you, only at the ground beneath him.
For the first time since you’d known him, Toby was silent.
No muttering. No insults. No half-crazed laughter at your expense. Just… silence. He sat up slow, pulling the mouth guard back into place, eyes fixed somewhere past you all. When he stood, it was without a word. He brushed dirt off his hoodie, hatchet hanging limp in his hand, and started toward the edge of the clearing.
“Toby,” Hoodie called after him, tone sharp, warning. But Toby didn’t answer. Didn’t even look back.
The rest of the night crawled like rot under the skin.
You all worked the scene in tense, heavy silence—dragging bodies, dousing blood with gasoline, scattering ash into the brush. Every now and then you caught a glimpse of Toby through the smoke, his shoulders hunched as he hacked the bodies into smaller pieces to fit into the bonfire you were throwing them into, his jaw clenched tight. No jokes. No muttered complaints. Just methodical, mechanical movements.
When you stripped out of your bloodied shirt near the stream nearby, scrubbing your arms raw in the freezing water, you could feel his eyes burning into your back from across the bank. Not glaring. Not mocking. Just… watching. Quiet.
By the time you trudged back to the truck, smelling of iron and smoke and death, Masky was rolling his eyes, muttering about “immaturity.” Kate looked like she wanted to strangle the both of you herself. Hoodie, as usual, said nothing—just kept his cigarette glowing, eyes narrowed.
But Toby? He climbed into the bed of the truck without a sound, hatchet propped against his knee, gaze fixed on the passing trees.
The silence pressed down heavier than the arguing ever had. And the longer it stretched, the more you hated it.
── .✦
The week that followed felt… off.
Toby didn’t pick fights. Not even little ones. Not the tiny jabs that had been part of your daily rhythm—the back-and-forth you’d grown used to, the words that always bounced off walls like sparks. He moved through the mansion like a ghost, quiet, methodical, focused only on smoking, weapons, and missions.
When he did speak, it was clipped, necessary. Orders, reports, directions—never aimed at you. His eyes flicked past, not meeting yours. You caught him glancing at you once or twice when he thought you weren’t looking, but it was fleeting, and every time the sight made your stomach tighten with a strange mix of satisfaction and unease.
The bruises on his throat were obvious even if you didn’t look close. Dark purple and angry against the pale skin, fading slowly but leaving deep, persistent marks. You’d caught him passing in the hallway once and remembered the weight of your hands around him, the raw heat of adrenaline and anger. A pang of guilt twisted in your gut—you’d let him get to you—but alongside it, a sharper, quieter thrill: for the first time, you had one-upped him. You had won.
At first, that smugness warmed you. You told yourself you’d earned it. You replayed the moment in your head, felt the power, the control. Toby hadn’t laughed at you. Toby hadn’t mocked you. He hadn’t even argued. For once, the scales had tipped.
But the relief didn’t last.
Toby didn’t bounce back. Not like every time before. The chaos that had defined him—the relentless teasing, the petty fights, the fire in his voice—was gone. He didn’t sneak into the kitchen and steal your lighter just to rile you. He didn’t flick ash onto your boots and smirk. He didn’t mutter under his breath or make jokes you’d spend the day wanting to punch him for.
The absence was strange. Hollow.
By the third day, it felt almost wrong. The mansion, which had been loud and infuriating, was quieter than it had ever been with him there. You realized you had grown used to his presence—not the violence, not the chaos itself, but the rhythm of it. The constant tension that had made your skin crawl was now a kind of anchor, a pulse you hadn’t realized you relied on.
And now? It was gone.
Every time you passed him in the halls, your chest tightened. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. He wouldn’t speak. He didn’t react to your snide comments or half-hearted insults. You felt a creeping, uncomfortable feeling settle over you. Part guilt. Part frustration. Part… longing? The tension, the conflict, the constant sparring—it had been exhausting, yes. But now, without it, you were left staring at a quiet, withdrawn version of the boy who had once been the most unpredictable part of your day.
The deeper the week stretched on, the more you realized that what you’d thought was triumph had turned into something else entirely: a slow, gnawing emptiness.
You had won the fight. But you might have lost him.
But you should be happy… right?
── .✦
Another mission order came in from Slender. You were checking your gear in the corner of the mansion’s main hall when Hoodie appeared, silently sliding a small pack over his shoulder.
“You’re with me on this one,” he said, voice low, precise, as always.
You nodded, hefting your own weapons, already going through mental checklists. This was routine. Simple. Easy. Comfortable.
Then the door creaked, and Toby stepped in. You froze—just a little. The mansion felt a little smaller with him there. He moved quietly, deliberately, but there was an edge to his posture you hadn’t seen since… that fight.
“I should g-go,” he said.
Your hands stopped mid-adjustment, eyes darting to Hoodie.
“You?” Hoodie asked, brow raised, tone careful. “Like… you two?”
Toby didn’t answer at first. He just leaned against the doorway, faint shadows under his eyes, arms crossed. Then he met Hoodie’s gaze, and there was… determination there. A quiet insistence.
“I’ll handle it,” Toby said. “I need t-to go. Need to get o-out of the house.”
You blinked. Dumbfounded. Alone… with me? Your chest fluttered with a mix of nerves, disbelief, and something else you didn’t want to name yet. You stared at him, really stared, and realized the bruises on his throat were almost gone—just faint traces of pink fading into pale skin.
You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair. “It’s alright,” you said, finally. “I can go with him.”
Hoodie’s eyes shifted between the two of you, expression unreadable. Then he let out a long, resigned sigh. “Fine,” he muttered. “But try not to kill each other before you even get there.”
Toby didn’t say anything to you immediately. He just stepped aside, giving you a narrow space to move past him. And then—your eyes met his for the first time all week. No words. No sarcasm. No fights. Just a look that was sharp, quiet, heavy. There was something in it—curiosity, tension, and maybe the barest trace of acknowledgment
You swallowed. He didn’t look like the Toby who laughed at your every irritation or goaded you endlessly. He looked… different. Still the same chaotic energy under the surface, but tempered. Careful. Watching. Waiting.
You nodded once, almost imperceptibly. He nodded back, then stepped out together into the night. The mansion grew smaller behind you, the faint glow of lights fading, and suddenly, the woods felt wider, quieter, trapping the two of you together.
After the mansion had long disappeared behind the two of you, you tried to break the silence first. “So… you actually decided to acknowledge me. Must be a full moon or something.”
Toby glanced at you briefly. A slow, measured nod. “Yep.”
You frowned, adjusting your grip on your pack slung over your shoulder. “And… you’re not going to pick a fight, bark something sarcastic, or pretend you’re better than me this time?”
Another nod. Short, clipped. “Nope.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “Wow. Silent Toby. Real terrifying.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance your way. Just kept moving as you followed behind. The tension built like static. Every step you took felt heavier, filled with the weight of all the words unsaid between you. The heat of your own irritation grew, but it was tangled with something else—something that made your stomach twist and pulse.
Time passed, and you knew you were close to your destination when the scent of musk travelled around you.
“You know,” you muttered, testing the waters again, “we could at least plan this out before running in there and—”
But he didn’t wait for a reply. Not really. He veered slightly off the path, silent and purposeful, already moving ahead toward the dark silhouette of the warehouse you were assigned.
Your jaw tightened. “Seriously?” you snapped under your breath, jogging to catch up. “Do not pull this shit, Toby.”
He didn’t look back. Just a brief flick of the head, a nod toward the structure. No words. No argument.
The warehouse loomed as you reached the clearing—old, corrugated metal walls rusted, shadows pooling in every corner. Faint light spilled from windows shattered long ago, revealing crates stacked in uneven towers. The smell of damp wood, oil, and smoke drifted out to meet you. Someone had set up shop here, smugglers taking advantage of the abandoned structure, thinking no one would come. Unluckily, it was stirring commotion in the Slenderwoods, so they had to be rid of.
You stopped just outside, lowering your weapons slightly. “Okay. So—”
Toby was already moving. Hatchets swinging low in his grip, steps silent as he circled the side entrance, scanning, analyzing, slipping into shadows like he owned the place.
Your irritation flared. “I said we should plan—”
No response.
You ground your teeth. He didn’t even acknowledge your words beyond a brief nod to indicate he’d seen you. The careful, silent Toby—the one who had stopped fighting with you, stopped talking to you altogether—was moving without you, ignoring every attempt at control, ignoring the chaotic rhythm you had always relied on when paired.
And somehow, that made you feel even tenser than a shouting match ever could.
The warehouse groaned under its own weight as you slipped inside, shadows thick and stale air heavy with oil and dust. Somewhere deeper in the building, muffled voices echoed—low, muttering, careless. The smugglers thought they were safe.
You crouched low, pressing into the dark, and flicked a look toward Toby, ready to signal how to split. But he didn’t wait. He was already moving, sliding between stacks of crates and disappearing from your sights.
Your jaw clenched. Fine. You’d adapt.
The first smuggler came into view around the corner, cigarette ember glowing as he leaned against a crate. You tightened your grip on your knife and slid closer, focusing on quieting your movements, heart syncing with your breath—
—but Toby slipped in from the opposite side faster than you could realize. His hatchet rose and fell before you could reach striking distance, and the man dropped in silence, cigarette rolling across the floor as blood sputtered from his throat. He couldn’t even scream.
You froze, teeth grinding.
Really?
Shoving down the irritation, you darted toward the next shadow—another guard, pacing near the stairwell. You timed it, waited for him to turn, and lunged—
—but Toby’s arm shot out, shoving you back against a crate. You caught yourself with a hand before you made noise, eyes blazing as you turned on him—only to see him already driving into the man’s spine. The smuggler collapsed at his feet, blood seeping into the concrete. Toby held his mouth to keep him quiet, but the wretched coughing still echoed slightly.
Your pulse spiked hot. “What the fuck—” you hissed low.
Toby only gave a short glance, then moved on. No words. You stalked after him, every nerve on fire. This wasn’t an accident. He was cutting you off, stealing every strike, sliding into your space just a second before you could land it.
Another smuggler. Another opportunity. You adjusted your grip, prepared to move.
And then your foot hooked on something.
You stumbled, catching yourself on a crate with a dull thud. Looking down, you saw it—Toby’s boot had slid out at the last second, tripping you. He didn’t even look back, just stepped in and slit the throat of the smuggler you’d been aiming for.
Hot rage seared through you.
This wasn’t clumsy overlap. This wasn’t the two of you failing to mesh. No. This was intentional. Toby wasn’t just ignoring you anymore—he was playing with you. Undermining you. Pushing you, tripping you, cutting you off, every move designed to make you burn hotter, to make you snap.
The warehouse was a graveyard of broken bodies by the time you and Toby pushed deeper inside. Crates stood like crooked tombstones, the smell of blood thick and metallic in the air. Your knife hand ached from clutching tightly for too long, but not from use—because every time you moved in, Toby was there first. Every time you breathed, he was already cutting the air ahead of you.
You were shaking with it now. Rage crawling under your skin like fire ants.
It wasn’t just that he was faster. It wasn’t just skill. No—he was watching you. Waiting for you. Moving not around you, but through you. Blocking, tripping, shoving. Every chance you reached for a kill, his hatchet stole it from your grip at the very last second. And he knew. God, he knew.
The bastard was doing it on purpose. You gritted your teeth so hard your jaw hurt. Your breath sawed in and out, shallow, furious, your chest tight with the effort of holding yourself back. If you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if words or a scream would come out.
Then you reached the last room.
The final smuggler was cornered near a busted loading dock door, fumbling with a pistol in shaking hands. His eyes went wide at the sight of you both, the whites bright in the dim light. Your grip tightened on your knife. Yours. This one is yours.
But Toby moved. Of course he did. He strode forward with that same unnerving calm, hatchet gleaming, as if this was just another tally mark to add to his collection. He didn’t even look at you as he raised his arm, claiming the kill before you could take a step.
Something inside you snapped. Before he could swing, you hurled your knife.
The blade hissed through the air, so close you heard the whisper of it graze Toby’s hoodie as it buried itself in the smuggler’s torso. The man crumpled with a strangled gasp, blood pooling as your knife jutted from his ribs. He was already dead by the time he hit the floor.
Silence rang out for a heartbeat. Then Toby turned. Slowly.
His head cocked, hair falling into his face, eyes burning from behind his goggles. His voice came low, rasping, edged like broken glass. “You almost h-hit me.”
“Good!” you exploded, stomping forward, your voice shaking as it poured out of you. “I should’ve aimed for you instead!”
His chest rose and fell, ragged. “What t-the fuck is yo-your problem?”
“You’re my problem!” you spat, closing the distance until you were nearly nose-to-nose. Your finger jabbed hard against his chest, smearing blood into the fabric. “You won’t stop. You cut me off, you trip me, you push me out of the way like I don’t matter!”
He shoved your hand away, heat sparking in his tone. “You don’t g-get it, do you? You ne-never fucking get it.”
“Oh, enlighten me then!” You threw your arms out, voice bouncing off the metal walls. “What exactly am I missing? That you’re such a big man because you can steal kills out from under me? That you think you’re the only one who knows what the hell they’re doing?”
Toby’s hands curled into fists, shoulders tense, body vibrating with contained rage. “You think t-this is about y-you?”
You laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “It’s always about me when you make it this way!”
His chest heaved as he stepped closer, hatchet still gripped in his hand though lowered, his voice raising to match yours now. “Maybe if y-you weren’t so busy proving yo-yourself every goddamn second, I-I wouldn’t have to clean u-up your me-messes!”
You shoved him hard, your palms slamming against his chest. He staggered a step but didn’t fall, coming back twice as hot, his own shove rattling your teeth as you stumbled back against a crate.
“Mess?!” Your voice cracked, raw with fury. “You’ve been sabotaging me since the second we stepped in here, and I’m the mess? You think I can’t see what you’re doing?”
Toby’s laughter broke then—sharp, ragged, almost unhinged, though there was no humor in it. He dragged a hand across his face, shaking his head. “You’re s-so goddamn blind.”
“Oh, screw you—” You lunged, shoving him again, and this time he grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward until your faces nearly collided. You could feel his breath hot against your cheek, could see every drop of blood spattered across his muzzle.
The room buzzed with it—your rage, his heat, the echo of all that pent-up chaos finally unleashed. The fight wasn’t about the smugglers, wasn’t about the mission. It was about the two of you, about everything that had burned too long without a spark to ignite it. And now, you were both on fire.
Toby’s grip on your wrist tightened, and before you could wrench free, you shoved him hard into another crate. The metal screeched as it shifted under his weight. He snarled and came back at you, tackling you full-force. You both went down hard, the concrete jarring every bone in your body. His hatchet skittered away with a clatter, forgotten in the heat of the struggle. You clawed at his hoodie, slamming your knee up to catch his ribs, and he grunted, twisting to roll you beneath him.
“Why now?!” you shouted, your voice tearing raw through your throat as you shoved at him. “Why the fuck this week, Toby?!”
His laugh came cracked, bitter, his breath hot against your face as he pressed you down. “Why do y-you care? You liked it better w-when I shut the hell u-up, right?!”
You twisted, bucking your hips, flipping the both of you onto your sides, rolling across the dirt-stained floor. Broken glass scraped your palm, but you didn’t let go. “You didn’t speak to me for days—nothing! Then suddenly you just have to come with me? Just so you can trip me and screw me over?”
He gritted his teeth, voice rough, guttural. “M-Maybe I wanted t-to see how you’d h-handle it. Maybe I w-wa-wanted to see you squirm for once.”
Rage spiked through you, sharp and white-hot. You slammed your elbow into his chest, forcing him onto his back. He gasped, coughing, but his hands were still at your arms, nails biting.
“Is this payback?” you snarled, your breath coming ragged. “For me choking you out? You sick little shit—you couldn’t just say something, you had to do this? Are you fucking five years old?”
He bucked up, trying to roll you again, and the two of you smashed into a half-rotted crate, splinters bursting. The smell of mold and dust coated your tongue, acrid and foul. You shoved harder, knee digging into his ribs until finally—you broke free of his grip and pinned him flat against the concrete. You straddled his waist, your hands pressed hard against his shoulders, forcing him down. Both of you were panting, sweat and blood smeared across your skin, breaths shallow with fury.
And then—something shifted.
Toby’s head tilted back, baring the flushed stretch of his throat. His pulse throbbed there, fast and strong. And he was looking right at you, eyes wide and unblinking behind the streaks of dirt and blood.
Not fighting. Not mocking. Just… giving. Exposing his throat, silent, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to finish what you’d started last week.
You froze. The world narrowed to the hollow of his throat, to the heat rolling off his body beneath you, to the fact that he wasn’t pushing you away. He was waiting.
Your heart lurched, fury colliding with confusion. You ripped your hands off him and stumbled up, standing over him. “What the fuck are you doing?” you demanded, voice sharp, trembling.
Toby stayed on the floor, chest rising and falling, throat still exposed. Slowly, his familiar grin returned—thin, crooked, unsettling. But he didn’t answer. He just chuckled under his breath. It wasn’t steady. It cracked halfway out, like he couldn’t quite hold it together.
“Go on,” he rasped, voice roughened by the fight—and maybe something else. “Do it a-again. Thought y-you liked shutting m-me up.”
Your stomach flipped. Heat curled low in your spine, but rage fought its way back to the surface, blinding the confusion you felt. “You’ve been fucking with me all night,” you hissed. “Cutting me off, tripping me, stealing every kill. And this—” your eyes hovered over his throat, his pulse hammering beneath skin still faintly stained with last week’s bruises “—this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
His grin faltered, but his eyes never left yours. Nervous. Hungry.
You almost laughed, disbelief bubbling sharp in your chest. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You’ve been trying to piss me off so I’d choke you again?”
The silence was answer enough. His jaw worked, his breath shallow, silently chasing the contact he wasn’t brave enough to ask for.
Something ugly and electric knotted in your chest.
“You’re fucking sick,” you spat, standing to put space between you. “All this—what—just to get your little fix? You’re pathetic.”
He sat up slowly, tearing at the strap of his muzzle and shoving the piece off his face—the metal clattering against the cold floor, and finally let out a low laugh—broken, ragged. “Maybe. But you w-were gonna do it, weren’t y-you?”
You turned away, disgust coiling hot in your chest, but Toby’s voice followed—low and sharp, like a knife slipped between ribs. “Guess I w-was right. You only e-e-ever look good wh-when you’re on top o-of me.”
That was it.
You spun, fury surging bright and blinding, and launched yourself at him. You couldn’t care anymore if this was some perverted goade, he would get what he asked for now. He hit the floor hard, head bouncing off concrete with a dull thump, and before he could so much as blink, your hand was clamped around his throat.
“Oh, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you snarled, leaning close, your words dripping venom. There wasn’t a muzzle to block you anymore, so your noses were practically inches from each other. “Poor little Toby, can’t get off unless he’s gasping like a fish. Pathetic.”
His grin widened even as your grip tightened, lips split and cracking, teeth flashing. His laugh jerked and stuttered, turning to wheezes under your palm, but he didn’t fight you off. Not this time. Instead, his hands slid down, fumbling and quick, finding your thighs where you straddled his abdomen. He gripped tight, fingers digging into your pants hard enough to bruise, like he was holding onto an anchor while you cut the air out of him.
You squeezed harder, your mockery coming in ragged bursts. “What, you like this? Huh? You want everyone to see those bruises again—so they’ll know exactly what I did to you?”
His laugh dissolved into a groan, his eyes glassy, unfocused, lips parted on shallow, rattling gasps. And then—his hips jerked up against you. Once. Twice. You lurched forward with the movement, your full weight pressing down onto his throat as his body bucked beneath yours, desperate, uncontrolled. Your palm bore down harder, your thighs pinning him in place, and his grip on you tightened until it hurt.
It was obscene. Violent. Maddening.
Your grip faltered when his hands crept higher on your thighs, rough palms sliding toward dangerous ground. You ripped your hand from his throat, throwing your weight back to keep yourself steady before you toppled forward.
The second you let go, Toby’s laugh cracked open, wild and desperate, spilling into something frantic. He shot upright against your weight, grabbing for your wrists, his voice ragged with need.
“No—don’t fu-fucking s-s-stop—” His words broke into a choked rasp as his chest heaved. “Do i-it again—p-pl-please—”
You shoved him down hard, eyes blazing. “You’re insane—!”
“Yeah?” he spat, his voice catching, body twisting under yours. “Then fucking b-be insane with me, h-huh? Don’t just s-sit there acting li-like you don’t get o-off on t-this shit too!”
Your rage spiked, white-hot. “Are you serious right now? I nearly killed you last time, and this is what you want?”
“Yes!” His shout tore from his throat, cracking halfway through, echoing off the warehouse walls. “Yes, fuck—goddamn i-it, you don’t g-get it—I need it!”
The words hit like a brick to the chest, and you froze just long enough for him to ramble on, his voice rising, frantic, like the dam had burst and he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He was panting for God’s sake.
“E-Ever since that night—when you h-had your hands on me—” His eyes flashed wild, glassy with something more than anger. “I-I couldn’t fucking s-stop thinking about it. I’d lay th-there staring at t-the bruises—every g-go-goddamn night—touching mm-myself to the thought of you choking me out, and it w-was the only thing that worked—”
You reeled back, disgust curling sharp in your gut. “You’re disgusting.”
He grinned—broken, shameful, desperate. “Yeah. Y-Yeah, I know. But when t-they faded—when the bruises were gone—” His voice cracked again, lower now, almost pleading. “I couldn’t finish an-anymore. Nothing worked. I’ve been going o-out of my fucking m-mi-mind—”
Your pulse thundered in your ears. “So you pulled this stunt tonight? Just to piss me off enough to do it again?”
“Yes! Jesus fuck! Yes!” he barked, eyes blazing with a feverish light. “I had to! I don’t c-care if you hate m-me, I don’t care if you th-think I’m pathetic, I just—fuck—” His hands clawed at his own throat now, red scratches blooming under his nails. “I need y-your hands here. No o-one else’s. Yours.”
You stared down at him, chest heaving, every nerve screaming between fury, disbelief, and something darker curling beneath. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve been choking your dick every night to the thought of me almost killing you?”
His grin faltered, teeth bared like he was half-laughing, half-breaking apart. “I wanted i-it. I still want it. I-I need you to finish me off, or I’m go-gonna lose my fucking mind.”
The words hung between you—hot, filthy, and raw. And for the first time since you’d known him, Toby wasn’t hiding behind his immaturity or his smirk. He was laid bare, trembling under you, begging with every cracked word.
“I hate you, Toby.” Your breath hissed out between your teeth, sharp and electric, as you slammed your hand back around his throat. His body jolted like you’d lit a match to it.
Toby’s moan tore out of him, shameless and guttural, the sound vibrating against your palm. His eyes rolled halfway back, lids fluttering, and he arched up into your grip like a starving man finally fed. “Fuck—yes—” His voice rasped high and broken, and the sheer relief in it made your stomach twist. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—”
You leaned down, sneering inches from his flushed face. “Look at you. Pathetic little freak. Can’t even look at me without getting hard.”
His laugh cracked, feral, desperate, his mouth curling wide even as his breath stuttered in ragged gasps under your pressure. He coughed once, then sneered closer into your grip, gritting his teeth. “Say it a-again—fuck—say it—”
“Pathetic,” you hissed, tightening your grip, your thumb pressing against the thick veins running up his throat. “Sick little bitch.”
His hips bucked up violently, knocking you forward again, and this time he didn’t hold back. His hands shot past your thighs, fumbling frantically at his belt behind you. The buckle clattered against the concrete, his jeans yanked open with a clumsy desperation that made your blood thrum. You couldn’t see, but you could hear the moment Toby’s hand shot into his boxers and began jerking his cock wildly, moaning through labored chokes.
“Jesus Christ,” you spat, half a laugh, half a curse. “You’re actually jerking yourself while I choke you?”
“Not—j-jerking,” he wheezed, his grin splitting wider even as his face flushed red under your grip. “Just—getting ready—” His laugh broke into a cough, then another moan. “Fuck—I don’t care i-if you hate me, just k-keep squeezing—”
Your stomach knotted, fury clashing with something darker as you pressed down harder, feeling the frantic pulse hammer beneath your hand. You should have pulled away. Should’ve shoved him off and ended this disgusting display. But the way his voice cracked when you snapped at him, the way his body writhed beneath yours, hands trembling as he shoved his jeans lower—it sparked something hot and unsettling in your chest.
“I can’t stand you,” you breathed, voice low, sharp, and shaking with something you didn’t want to name. “You’re nothing without me.”
His moan bled into a laugh, high and frantic. “I k-know. I fucking know. That’s w-why I need you.” And god help you—your lips curled, the power surging through you like fire. You were enjoying it, too.
Your palm pressed harder against his throat, pinning him flat, your thighs tight against his ribs. Toby’s grin broke into something wrecked, lips trembling as his groans spilled shamelessly between shallow gasps.
“That’s it,” you hissed, leaning close, breath hot against his ear. “Choke on it. That’s all you’re good for.”
His hips jerked up violently, jeans shoved halfway down his thighs now, his cock straining free into the cool air. His hand wrapped tight around the base, already slick, already trembling. You could hear the sound of skin-on-skin, his fist moving insanely fast and brutal.
“F-Fuck—yes—” he choked, voice torn to ribbons under your grip. “Keep talking—don’t s-stop—please—”
You sneered, pressing your weight down harder, and he let out a strangled cry that almost tipped into a sob. “Look at yourself,” you spat, mocking, eyes blazing as you looked back to see him rut up into his own fist like a man possessed. “Wheezing like a dying dog. You’re disgusting.”
“Uh—hnn—f-fuck—yeah,” he rasped, grin stretching bloody and wild. “Say it a-again—call me that—”
“Disgusting. Pathetic. Useless little freak.”
His eyes rolled, breath rattling, hips pumping faster. You heard his boots scuff and slip on the ground below, kicking dust with every jerk of his body. His free hand clawed at your thigh, nails biting hard into your skin, grounding himself in your weight, in your hold on his throat.
“Harder,” he begged, voice splintering, a desperate whine breaking loose. “Please—please, don’t let g-go—don’t stop—fuck, I’m so c-close—”
And God help you—you squeezed tighter. You felt the pulse stuttering beneath your palm, his throat straining, his moans breaking into guttural wheezes as his body arched up beneath yours.
“You need me for this,” you hissed, lips curling in something that was no longer just anger. “You can’t even come without me choking the life out of you. Need me to make your little dick come.”
His hand blurred on his cock, hips bucking helplessly now, eyes glassy and unfocused as drool slicked the corner of his mouth. “Y-yesmmn—fuck, yehmmn—need you—need your hand—don’t let go—hnn—hah—”
And then he broke.
His whole body jolted beneath you, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as his hips bucked up hard. Hot release spilled across his abdomen and into his fist as he writhed, every vein straining under your hand while you squeezed him through it. His cock twitched violently in his grasp, his moans pitching higher, wetter, delirious. “Fuckfuckfuck—yes—” he gasped, trembling, his grip on your thigh bruising as he rode the high, every thrust messy, erratic, desperate.
You held firm until he sagged under you, chest heaving, throat raw and flushed purple where your hand pressed. Only then did you release him, wiping your palm against your jeans with a sharp sneer. “Fucking hell,” you muttered again, though your heart was hammering just as hard as his.
Toby lay there, grinning up at you with glassy, wrecked eyes, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He coughed once, rough and raw, then laughed—a cracked, unhinged sound. “Worth it.”
The warehouse smelled like iron and smoke, the floor sticky with blood, bodies slumped where they fell scattered throughout the halls. Normally you’d have cleaned—burned the place down or dragged the corpses to the woods. That was protocol.
But not tonight.
You shoved yourself off Toby’s chest, breath ragged, disgust curling sharp and hot in your gut. You wiped your palm against your pants until the skin burned, as if you could scrub off the memory of his throat thrumming beneath your grip, the moans spilling out of him, the mess he made of himself under you.
“Fuck,” you spat, turning on your heel. “Fuck this.”
Toby scrambled upright behind you, fumbling with his belt buckle, tugging his jeans back up with clumsy, shaking hands. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hoodie damp with it too.
“W-Wait—hey—” he stammered, voice still rough, strained. He grabbed his hatchet and muzzle from the floor and scurried after you, footsteps uneven on the concrete. “Don’t—don’t make i-it a thing, okay? Just—forget it h-ha-happened.”
“Forget it?” you snapped, not slowing. “You’re sick, Toby.”
He laughed nervously, breath catching on the sound. “Yeah, well—you al-already knew that.”
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your stomach twisted too tight, too hot, your chest buzzing with something you didn’t want to settle on. You shoved through the broken door, the night air slapping cold against your damp skin, and started the trek back to the mansion. Behind you, Toby’s boots scuffed the dirt, never too far, dogging your steps like a shadow.
“C’mon,” he tried again, voice softer this time, more nervous. “Don’t g-go all weird on m-me. It doesn’t have to mean an-anything.”
Your fists clenched at your sides. “Shut up.”
Silence stretched between you after that, broken only by the crunch of leaves, the distant cry of some night creature in the woods. You didn’t look back, not once. But no matter how far you tried to walk ahead, he stayed just behind you—close enough to feel his presence crawling against your skin. Your chest heaved, every breath tight. Anger, shame, disgust—all of it roiled inside you, twisting lower until your stomach was burning, your thighs aching where his hands had dug into you.
Warm. You felt too warm. And you hated yourself for it.
By the time the mansion lights came into view through the trees, your jaw ached from clenching it so hard. You’d marched fast, hard, like if you moved quick enough, you could outrun the heat coiling in your gut, the way your pulse jumped at the memory of Toby’s voice breaking under your hand, at his eyes watering so easily.
But when you reached the porch steps, he was still there. Still trailing you. And no matter how you tried to bury it—your body still hummed with the echo of his moans.
“J-Just don’t say anything to t-them—”
“Shut up, Toby.”
The mansion’s door creaked open, hinges groaning into the quiet of the hour. You stepped in first, blood dried on your clothes, boots heavy with dust. The air inside smelled faintly of woodsmoke and old leather, warmth clinging to the walls after the chill of the forest outside.
Masky looked up from the couch where he sat sipping from a steaming mug. Hoodie was leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, while Kate perched on the armrest, picking at her fingers.
Three sets of eyes landed on you and Toby at once.
You kept yours on the floor, brushing past with a muttered, “It’s done.” Your voice was flat, clipped, nothing like the normal back-and-forth bickering they were used to hearing spill through the door after missions. Toby hovered behind you, shifting from foot to foot. His hatchet dangled loose at his side, his hoodie wrinkled, belt crooked like he’d thrown it back together in a rush. His mouth opened once, twice, but no words came.
Masky’s eyes narrowed. Hoodie straightened. Kate blew a huff of air through her nose, brows furrowing as her gaze bounced between you both. You didn’t wait for questions. You strode past them, your chest tight, your pulse hammering, Toby’s nervous fidgeting prickling against the back of your skull like static. Your boots echoed faint up the stairs, and when you reached your room, you shut the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
Finally—silence.
You pressed your back against the wood, chest rising and falling, staring blankly into the shadows of your room. Your knees felt weak, like the fight had dragged out hours longer than it really had.
“What the fuck,” you whispered into the stillness. Your mind replayed it whether you wanted it to or not: his face slack with need, his body bucking beneath you, his voice breaking when you called him pathetic. The sound of him moaning your name. The way he’d begged you not to let go.
Your pulse jumped hard, traitorous, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as though that could cage it. How? How had this boy—the one who needled you, cursed you, fought you at every corner—made your stomach twist and your core ache with just his wrecked voice and shameless grin?
You growled under your breath, shoving off the door, moving on autopilot. Stripping out of bloodied clothes. Cleaning the grime from your skin in the dim light of the bathroom mirror. Your reflection looked wrong—flushed, unsettled, eyes too wide.
You tried to ignore it.
Back in your room, you tugged a shirt over your head and crawled beneath the covers, pulling them tight around yourself. The sheets were cool against your skin, the house humming faint and low in the background. You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to think of anything else.
But your mind betrayed you.
Every blink brought back Toby—the heat of him, the frantic way he’d clawed at your thighs, the rasp of his moans under your palm. You could almost feel his throat again, the thrum of his pulse weakening against your grip, the desperate way he’d pushed into your hand as if he couldn’t live without it. The way he insisted only you could do this for him—only you.
Your breath caught. Your thighs pressed together beneath the sheets. “Goddamn it,” you muttered, low, ashamed.
But your hands moved anyway. Sliding down, curling over your stomach, lower, until your fingers pressed against the ache that had been building since you walked away from him on that filthy warehouse floor.
Toby’s voice played in your head, raw and broken—Harder. Please. Don’t stop.
The sheets were stifling, heat curling in every inch of your body, but you burrowed deeper under them anyway, cocooning yourself as if that could keep the shame in. Your breath was uneven, pulse climbing higher the longer you tried to resist. Your hand slipped lower, into the waistband of your shorts, finding the slick heat between your thighs. You were already wet, embarrassingly so, and the realization made your stomach flip.
“Fuck…” you hissed under your breath.
But your fingers moved anyway. Slow at first, just circling, teasing, trying to convince yourself you weren’t really doing this. Except the moment you closed your eyes, you saw him again—Toby’s head tilted back, throat bare to you, his lips parted in a desperate grin as you squeezed down harder.
The memory made your hips twitch, your hand quicken. Your breathing grew rougher, sharper, filling the stillness of your room. The friction wasn’t enough—you needed more. You slid two fingers against your entrance, pressing inside and gasping at the sudden stretch, your body clenching tight.
And your mind betrayed you again.
You imagined it was his hands, not yours—rough, calloused palms pushing inside, desperate and greedy. You imagined the way he’d been bucking against you, hips jerking, like he was trying to fuck the air just to get relief. What if you had fucked him then? Would it have been as fast and desperate as his fist was?
A whimper slipped out of you before you could stop it. Your free hand clutched the sheets by your head, knuckles whitening as your pace picked up. Each press, each thrust of your fingers had your body curling tighter, chasing something you didn’t want to admit you wanted. Your thighs trembled. Sweat dampened your temples.
And then Toby’s voice flooded your skull, unbidden: Harder. Please. Don’t stop. I need you.
Your body jerked. A moan tore from your throat. You slammed your fingers deeper, grinding your palm against your clit until the ache sharpened into something blinding. Your orgasm ripped through you like fire, your body arching off the bed, breath caught, the sound of his pleading still ringing in your ears.
You stayed there, quivering, your hand still buried between your thighs as the aftershocks trembled through you. The sheets were tangled, your skin slick with sweat, your chest heaving. And when your mind finally cleared, disgust hit you like a wave.
You ripped your hand away, burying your face into the pillow, your body still thrumming with unwanted pleasure.
“What the fuck is wrong with me,” you whispered to the dark, voice breaking. But no matter how tightly you curled into yourself, no matter how hard you tried to will it away, the memory of his moans and the feel of his throat under your palm stayed burned into you.
“I hate that boy.”
── .✦
The mansion was never quiet, not really. Floorboards creaked, the woods whispered, doors groaned when opened. But between you and Toby? Silence had become the loudest thing of all.
You ignored him. Flat-out, stone-faced ignored him.
When he leaned against the doorway of the training room, flicking his pocket knife open and shut, waiting for you to snap? You kept punching the heavy weight bag, not giving him so much as a glance.
When he dropped some smartass remark during meals, fishing for the rise he always used to get? You chewed slowly, eyes fixed on your plate, not even flinching.
When he “accidentally” bumped your shoulder in the hall? You walked on, didn’t miss a beat.
It drove him mad—you could see it in the twitch of his jaw, the way his tics flared sharper, faster when you didn’t bite back. But it drove you mad too, in a way you didn’t want to admit.
Because the bruises were back.
Dark, blooming fingerprints circling his throat like a necklace only you could’ve left. They were darker than last time, more intense. They peeked from under his collar when he tilted his head back, caught the light when he twisted just so. And every time you saw them, your stomach clenched.
You couldn’t help imagining him again, in that messy sprawl on the warehouse floor—eyes glazed, lips split, gasping for air under your hand. The memory tangled with the fact you knew he was jerking off to it every night, chasing that high you’d given him like some addict.
And then came the shame.
Shame because you’d done the same. Shame because your own fingers had dug into yourself with his voice in your ears, his body pressed against yours in your mind. Shame because it made you warm now, just thinking about it in broad daylight. You hated yourself for it.
The others noticed.
Masky groaned and rolled his eyes whenever the silence stretched too long in the room, muttering about “finally shutting the both of you up.” Hoodie, quiet as ever, glanced between you two with something unreadable in his gaze, like he was tracking pieces to a puzzle he didn’t want to put together. And Kate? She smirked. She didn’t say anything—yet—but her eyes lit up with amusement every time Toby walked in, bruises stark and ugly, your gaze flickering before you could stop it.
The mansion wasn’t built for subtlety. Everyone could feel the tension brewing.
And Toby? Toby basked in it. Even when you ignored him, even when your face burned with shame, you could see it in the edge of his grin, in the way he let his collar hang just a little lower. He liked that you saw the bruises. He wanted you thinking about them. Thinking about him.
── .✦
The porch was cold, even with the smoke curling warm in your lungs. You leaned against the railing, staring into the stretch of black trees. The woods whispered with wind and crickets, an endless, empty hum that should’ve eased your head but didn’t.
You were halfway through your cigarette when the door creaked behind you. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. His uneven footsteps, the scrape of his hoodie against the doorframe—Toby.
You stiffened immediately, flicking ash into the night, already crushing the half-finished cigarette against the rail. The second he stepped outside, you pushed off the porch, muttering, “Nope.” But before you could make it to the door, his hand shot out and grabbed your arm.
You spun on instinct, your fist colliding with his chest, hard enough that it would’ve left anyone else wincing. He didn’t even flinch. His head just tilted, eyes flicking from your hand to your face.
“You probably liked that too, didn’t you?” you spat, ripping your arm from his grip. “Bet you’ll jerk off to that later too.”
For a moment, the corner of his mouth curled up into a grin like he was about to shoot something smart back. But then it faltered. He swallowed, shifting his weight. “You can’t k-keep being mad at m-me,” he said, quieter than you expected.
You barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Oh, that’s rich. What’s this—gaslighting me now? Pretending I imagined all your bullshit? You baited me into it, Toby. You made me—”
“I’m not saying th-that.” His voice cut through, sharper this time. He stepped closer, shoulders tense, hands fidgeting. “I’m saying… you d-did it too. You wanted it. D-Don’t dump all the blame o-on me like I’m the only fucked up o-o-one here.”
You blinked at him, the words burning hotter than the smoke simmering in your lungs. The laugh that came out of you was dry, ugly. “Wow. That’s your angle? Turn it around on me so you don’t feel like a creep?”
He shook his head quickly, stammering, “No. That’s not—fuck—” He scrubbed a hand through his messy curls, his tics pulling his shoulders tight. Then his voice dropped, raw and stripped. “I just… I hate i-it when you’re quiet.”
That stopped you.
His eyes flicked up to yours, no grin this time, no mask. Just something bare. “I can handle y-you being pissed at me. You c-can scream, throw punches, call me every name in the book—I don-don’t care. I’ll give it right back. That’s what we do.” He took a step closer, the porch creaking under his boots. “But this? Y-You ignoring me? Acting like I don’t exist? That’s wo-worse than any fight we’ve ever h-had.”
You swallowed hard, your pulse suddenly pounding in your ears.
“You always bounce b-back,” he went on, voice rough with an edge of desperation. “No matter h-how ugly it gets, you always come back a-at me w-with something. And now you’re just—gone. Silent. And it fe-feels like I’m fucking… nothing t-to you. And I can’t stand that.”
The words hung between you, heavy as the smoke drifting in the night air. You clenched your fists, struggling to breathe steady. Your chest felt too tight. His words were still in your ears, rattling around, refusing to leave. You dragged a hand through your hair, then crossed your arms hard, locking yourself in. Your gaze flicked down—just for a heartbeat—to his throat, where the bruises were stark against pale skin, then to his hands fidgeting at his sides. A sigh slipped out before you could swallow it down.
“God, you’re annoying,” you bit out, venom dripping. “You stand here begging for scraps of my attention like some whipped fucking dog.”
Toby’s lips twitched, but he didn’t fight back. He just nodded once, sharp, almost eager. “Y-Yeah. I am.”
You blinked at him, taken aback. Then the anger surged hotter. Even still, even as you tried to push him away, he was still enjoying it.
“You don’t even try to deny it? That’s how low you are? That’s how little self-respect you have?”
“Mmhm.” Another nod. His boots creaked closer against the porch boards.
Your arms tightened across your chest. “You’re disgusting, Toby. You make me sick.”
“Yeah.” Another step closer. His grin was small now, faint, but his eyes were locked on you like he was drinking it all in. Your nails bit crescents into your arms. You should’ve walked away—you knew you should’ve walked away—but the way he was letting you tear into him only made your pulse race faster.
“Say it,” you snapped, stepping forward yourself. “Say you’re a fucking disgusting waste of space.”
“I’m di-disgusting,” he echoed, nodding. “Waste of space. All o-of it. Go on.” He was right there now, only inches away, and still coming closer.
“You’re nothing,” you spat, your voice trembling with how hard you forced the words out. “I hate you.”
He nodded again, eyes bright, voice low. “Then hate me.”
And then he leaned forward. Not quick, not sharp—slow, steady, like he was giving you all the time in the world to stop him. His breath brushed your lips, his bruised throat bare and tempting, his whole body a dare.
Something snapped in you. Your hand shot up and clamped over his mouth. Hard.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” you growled, glaring into his eyes.
For a heartbeat, the night was silent, only your ragged breathing between you. His lips moved against your palm, hot breath searing your skin, but he didn’t try to pull away. He just looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, as if you’d given him exactly what he wanted.
Then his arms came up.
Before you could react, he wrapped them around you, hauling you flush against him. Your body collided with his, hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs, and that’s when you felt it—his bulge thick and insistent against your hip.
Your heart jumped. You recoiled, but he only crushed you tighter, his muffled voice spilling hot against your palm. “Can’t—fuck—can’t help i-it,” he mumbled under your hand, words slurring but frantic. His eyes were wild, pleading and burning all at once. “You don’t understand how good i-it sounds. The way you talk to me—how mean you a-are—”
“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, pressing harder against his mouth, like you could shove the words back down his throat. And then—warm, wet, obscene—his tongue dragged across your palm. You jerked your hand back instantly, grimacing. “Motherfucker—”
The slap cracked sharp across his face before you even thought about it, your palm stinging from the impact. He didn’t even blink, face jerking to the side for only a moment. His laugh tore out, jagged and breathless, like it was the best gift you’d ever given him. “More,” he goaded, his voice breaking with a tic as his grin split wide. “C’mon—hit me again—”
Something boiled inside you. Rage. Heat. Hunger. You couldn’t name it, couldn’t separate it. You fisted his collar instead, yanking him down hard enough his head snapped forward. Your lips crashed into his in a violent, messy collision—more teeth than anything else, half-kiss, half-bite.
He made a noise deep in his chest, caught between a moan and a growl, and bit back. Your teeth scraped his lip, tearing it raw, copper flooding between your tongues as you devoured each other like a fight you couldn’t win. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. It was violent, greedy, your mouths clashing, biting, swallowing each other’s breath until you were dizzy. His hands gripped your waist, bruising, desperate, dragging you closer still.
The porch boards creaked under your stumbling steps as you shoved him back, and he only laughed against your mouth, teeth clacking yours, his breath ragged and burning hot as he kissed you like you were both still trying to draw blood.
Your teeth clashed again, the taste of copper thick on your tongue, and Toby groaned like it was ecstasy. His hands roamed rough, not searching but taking—fingers digging into your hips hard enough you swore he’d leave bruises through your clothes. You shoved at his chest, trying to push him back, but he turned you violently, pinning you against the porch railing. The wood bit into your spine. His mouth crashed against yours, sloppy and biting, like he was trying to consume you whole.
“Fucking—” you gasped between kisses, your nails clawing into his shoulders. “I hate you.”
“F-Fuck yeah you do,” he growled, teeth dragging along your jaw before sinking in just hard enough to sting. His hips ground forward, rough, shameless. His bulge pressed against your hip so hard you could feel every inch. “Show me just h-how much, baby.”
Your laugh broke into a moan, guttural and unwilling, as he rocked against you. That only pissed you off more. You tangled a hand in his curls and yanked his head back hard, exposing his throat. “Pathetic little pervert,” you spat, glaring at the bruises you’d already put there. Your free hand wrapped around his throat again, squeezing until his breath stuttered, and his eyes rolled for just a second.
He moaned just as loud and whiny as he had the other night. The sound made heat coil tight in your stomach. You pressed harder, relishing the way his pulse hammered under your fingers. He choked out a laugh, lips swollen and red, trying to lunge forward again—but you held him just out of reach.
“Say it,” you hissed. “Say you’re nothing. Say you’re mine to break.”
His grin split wide, voice raw and ragged as he rasped, “I’m nothing. I’m—fuck—I’m y-yours to break.”
That was all it took for you to slam your mouth back onto his, devouring him. Your bodies ground together in a messy, furious rhythm, every movement as much a fight as it was a touch.
Toby’s hand slid down, gripping the back of your thigh, hauling your leg up around his hip. You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily, bucking into you. Your nails raked down his chest, and he shuddered, growling against your lips. He bit at your bottom one hard enough to make you taste blood again.
The porch creaked, your breath echoed, and for a moment, the whole world was just this: violent mouths, grasping hands, and the line between hate and want blurring until there was no difference. You tried to shove him off, but he anchored himself against you with his hands—one gripping your waist, the other sliding lower, hot and slick, brushing over the waistband of your shorts.
You stiffened immediately, pressing back, but he didn’t stop. He shoved his hand down past the hem, his warm palm pressing flat against your fluttering cunt. You hissed, digging your nails into his shoulders. The pad of his thumb traced along your slick folds, the subtle heat radiating from your body under his touch making him groan low and uneven.
“Right—so defensive, but you’re soaked—” he panted against your jaw, dragging his fingers through your slick and probing against your entrance. You wanted to curse him, but your hips were too busy chasing after his hand, mind too muddled with want. “Y-You’re not very good a-at playing pretend.”
And then—careful, deliberate—he slipped a finger inside. The movement was slow at first, testing, curling just enough to brush the spot that made you gasp, hips bucking despite your effort to stay rigid. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as your hands clamped over his shoulders, nails digging in hard, and yet your stomach tensed, core aching in unwanted, feral need.
“Goddamn it, Toby—get the fuck—” you tried to snap, but the words came out a whimper as his fingers moved in perfect rhythm with the heat coiling between your legs.
“Can’t stop,” he rasped, teeth grazing your jaw. “Your hands—your words—f-fucking kill me. I can’t help it.”
You clawed at him, nails digging into skin. He moved another finger in, slick and warm, curling expertly, pressing, rubbing, and suddenly the fire coiling low in your belly blazed out. You arched up, fighting, hissing at him through your teeth, but the sound only seemed to make him smirk against your jaw.
“You piss me off,” you spat, pressing back harder, rocking your hips against his hand in a mix of resistance and desperate need. Every nerve in your body screamed, every pulse of blood seemed to thrum straight down into the ache he was cultivating with each careful, greedy curl of his thick fingers. “You’re so fucking gross.”
“Yeah,” he moaned, the word rattling through him. “Gonna make you cum. I h-have to. Ne-Need to.” The sound—raw, desperate, unashamed—made arousal coil tighter in your belly. Your free hand tangled in his hair, yanking his face to yours again. Teeth clashed, lips smacked, and he grunted as you bit him, tasting yourself on him, smelling the deep earthy tones of him.
He bucked into you, nails digging into your hip, sliding his fingers faster, curling them deep, teasing you, testing you, making you gasp and growl your frustration into the night air. You tried to glare, tried to snap insults, but your body betrayed you, trembling, hips pressing against him, sliding back onto his fingers despite the growl of anger and disgust still catching in your throat.
“Told you,” he rasped, voice ragged, “I l-like it better when you’re pissy.”
You hit him on the chest, hard enough to make him grunt, and he chuckled, throat choked and vibrating under your hand. The contrast—his rough, hungry laugh and the slick heat of him inside you—sent fire lashing in your veins, spreading down and low, making your nails dig deeper, your chest rise faster, your body tremble like you were breaking apart. You tried to pull away, tried to scream insults, tried to shove him off, but every movement only made him grip harder, curling fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he held you flush against him.
“Fuck—Toby…” you gasped, teeth clenching, nails digging into the fabric of his hoodie as heat roared through your body. His hand moved faster, rolling you expertly against him, pressing and curling until every nerve in your belly lit up. You clenched, tight, shivering, and suddenly the wave hit—sharp, overwhelming, and completely consuming. Your body quaked as your orgasm ripped through you, muffled gasps caught in your throat. Toby didn’t falter; instead, he held you steady, rolling you just enough to ride it out, keeping you flush against him, your arousal spilling all over his palm.
Your chest heaved, and you grabbed his jaw with both hands, pulling him down roughly into a kiss that was desperate and messy. His mouth moved against yours, hot and slick, teeth nipping as tongues tangled, groans muffled and raw. And then, just slightly, the feral edge simmered into something slower, almost tired—your bodies still flush, hearts hammering, lips pressed together as you clung to him, fingers gripping his shoulders and chest. Your legs threaded around him, your nails dragging along his back, and you shivered against the warmth of him, still trembling from release and the cold air outside.
Finally, he pulled his fingers out, slick and glistening, and tilted his head back just slightly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark in the dim porch light, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking them clean with a low hum that made your heart stutter.
“Fuck,” you panted.
You don’t let him think. You take his wrist like it’s a leash and pull, hard, the way you used to when dragging him out of some stupid accident—only this time your grip is charged, hungry. Toby stumbles after you, mouth parted, eyes bright and unsteady, like he’s both surprised and exactly where he wants to be. He tries to say something—stammer a protest, some jagged joke—but you yank him faster and his words die in the cut of your stride. You pull him through the mansion’s doors and into the warmth of the house, dragging him up the stairs like a toy.
Upstairs creaks under your boots; the house is quiet but for the ragged sound of his breathing close behind. When you shove the door to your room shut, it slams. The sound is satisfying, final. You press back against it, feel the cheap paint bite into your back through your clothes, and the world narrows until it’s only you and him and the hungry strain between your bodies pressed tight.
He drops to his knees without being told. You haven’t even made a sound and he’s already obeying—fast, focused, hands fumbling as he works the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down slow, reverent, as though he’s unwrapping something sacred and volatile. The fabric slips over your hips and slides to your knees, and you can feel the cool air lick at your skin. Toby’s head dips, lips brushing the inside of your thigh first like it’s a courtesy, then moving with increasing boldness.
You’re in control. You know it. You feel it in the slick press of your bodies, the steady drum of your pulse at the back of your throat. You lean forward, hands braced on his shoulders, and you start to talk down to him.
“Look at you,” you say, each word deliberate. You’re quieter now inside, trying your best not to disturb Masky and Hoodie only a few doors down. “On your knees for me. So ready.” Your fingers rake through his hair, rough enough that he gasps, chin lifting to give you access. He nods, desperate and grateful, eyes glossy. The motion is small, but it’s permission, and it makes something molten shift deeper inside you.
Toby’s face is close, warmth and breath and that wild laugh caught somewhere between fear and worship. He’s trembling—hands shaking as they find your hips, thumbs stroking, mapping, sliding up and under your shirt. He lifts his mouth and your name slips off his lips like a prayer. The sound is intoxicating. He’s pathetic on purpose: he knows that’s exactly what you want to see, and he gives it fully.
“You like the way you look when you beg?” you murmur, leaning down to press your forehead to his. “Like how it feels?.”
He swallows. His voice is a thin thing when it comes. “I—please. I like—hnngh, I like w-when you—” He breaks, breath hitching. “I like when you make me—when y-you choke me—when you sa-say those things.” His fingers curl into your hips like anchors, digging into your flesh.
You grin, and it’s all teeth. You like that he admits it. You like that he’s helpless to stop himself from wanting more, and you take your time making that want work for you. Hell, he couldn’t even cum without your help a week ago. One hand slides down his scalp, tilting his head, the other ghosts lower until the pad of your thumb brushes the tint in his jeans. He pants, a sharp, eager noise, and when you press that thumb—just a tease—he moans and jerks, hips lifting on their own.
“Good boy,” you whisper, the title slipping out like a command. “Work for me.”
He obeys like he breathes—fast. His hands grip your thighs, pull you closer, and he uses his mouth this time—not gentle, not careful, but greedy. When his lips close around your clit, and your back immediately hits the door, rattling the frame. He’s competent; his mouth knows how to coax sounds from you, how to lap his tongue through your folds, how to curl it in the right place. He sucks, he sucks hard, and you can feel it all rolling through you—the tug and the release, the heat pooling and then building again.
You press a palm flat to the crown of his head and drive him harder, encouraging, demanding, not letting him take the easy route. You want him raw, you want him ragged; you want him making up for every single ache he’s caused you. You lean your weight into him, hips rocking as his mouth works miracles, and you start to bark orders—softly but stiff.
“Faster.”
“Mhmn—” he hums, wrapping his hands behind your thighs, pulling you closer.
“Keep your eyes up, Toby.”
He answers by sinking his tongue into your cunt, forcing the muscle into the sticky sweet slick of your last arousal. His eyes flutter and roll, his nose pressing against your clit as he swallows every taste of you.
He’s shameless now, hands slamming up your thighs, hauling you closer until the pads of his fingers dig into the soft of your waist. He crushes his face between your legs, breath hot and urgent, tongue darting, exploring. When his fingers slide from your leg to between them, worming their way to your entrance with his tongue, you clench, eyes rolling with the stretch. He moans against you, the sound vibrating right up into your pelvis, and the crude, honest worship of it makes heat flare up into your throat.
You keep talking, degrading in that perfect, stinging way that makes him whine harder, do more. Each insult you throw is an instruction, each barb a route to deeper compliance.
“You want this,” you tell him, voice low and hard. “You want to be thrown around. Admit it.”
He lifts his head, face flushed, lips slick. He meets your eyes and says it plain, breathy and broken, “I wa-want you to hate me. I want you to hit me and h-hurt me.” He nods, like a man confirming the one truth he lives for.
“You don’t even—hah—even feel pain.”
“Let’s play pretend.”
That’s all you need. You press him back with a casual force, pressing down on his shoulders and forcing him flat to the floor. His back hit the wood, hoodie riding up, and you didn’t give him the chance to keep talking. You climbed over him, straddling his chest, knees planted on either side of his shoulders, the weight of you pinning him like prey.
“Shut up,” you spat, leaning forward just enough that your shadow swallowed his face. “You want to fuck me so bad? You’re gonna fucking earn it.”
Toby’s grin only widened. His hands went to your thighs automatically, not pushing, not resisting—just holding, squeezing like he was anchoring himself to you. His eyes, those wild, fractured things, were locked on your cunt hovering above him. His mouth fell open on instinct, tongue flashing out in a shaky, eager swipe across his lips.
“Fuck—look at you,” you muttered, rolling your hips forward until you sat fully on his face. His nose pressed firm against your clit, his tongue sliding up and tasting you with a hunger that sent shocks all the way down your spine. “On the floor, exactly where you belong.”
The sound he made against you was half-moan, half-chuckle, and the vibration shot straight through you. You fisted his messy curls, forcing his head back into the wood, rocking yourself harder against his mouth.
“Open wider,” you ordered, voice sharp, breath catching. “You’re gonna take every bit of me.”
He obeyed instantly, mouth parting, tongue flattening and dragging in long, desperate licks. He was sloppy, unashamed, drowning himself in you. Every time your hips rolled down, he groaned like he was savoring it, like he’d starve if you moved away. You ground against him harder, chasing the rhythm, riding his face with purpose. The slick sounds of his tongue working you filled the room, obscene and perfect. Toby’s hands clamped tight on your thighs, pulling you down harder, like he wanted to suffocate under you.
“Stupid weirdo,” you hissed between gasps, yanking his head tighter into your heat. “This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it? My pussy—fuck—my fucking hands on you.”
His answer was a muffled, ecstatic noise, hips bucking up from the floor uselessly. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t joke, couldn’t bite back. He could only take it—your weight, your rhythm, your degradation. He moaned into you again, and you felt the sound rip through your core.
You leaned back slightly, fingers twisted cruelly in his hair, your thighs trembling as his tongue curled just right, hitting that spot over and over. You threw your head back, breath breaking into ragged gasps, staring up at your ceiling just like you had a couple of nights ago—imagining how he would feel against you. It made your heart burn.
“God—fuck, Toby—don’t stop.”
He didn’t. He couldn’t. His mouth latched tighter, tongue flicking, sucking, devouring like it was oxygen. You rode him through it, thighs squeezing against his head, grinding down until the pleasure crested sharp and overwhelming.
When it hit again, it was violent. You clamped down around his tongue, body shuddering, a cry tearing itself from your throat as you came hard, grinding his face through the waves. Toby moaned with you, greedy for every second, every twitch, every slick pulse. The overstimulation was already building, your body growing so tried. You slumped forward on shaking thighs, chest heaving, still tugging his hair, forcing him to lap at you while aftershocks rolled through. Only when your muscles gave did you finally lift off, dragging your heat from his face and watching as he gasped for air, lips and chin wet, eyes glazed and wide.
You smirked down at him, breathless but still sharp. “Look at you. So pitiful.”
Toby laughed—hoarse, shaky, half-mad—licking his lips like he couldn’t bear to waste a single taste. “Do it again,” he begged, voice raw. “Please—ride m-me again.”
“Nah.”
Your thighs trembled as you rose off of him, knees shaky, breath uneven. Toby’s hands pawed uselessly at the floor, still reaching, still begging—but you ignored him. You staggered to your bed, hips heavy with the ache he left behind, and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. The sheets were cool against your burning skin, and you stretched out, lazy and languid, your feet still dangling over the edge, your back arching with the natural curl of exhaustion and satisfaction.
Behind you, you heard him scramble up—the shuffle of knees, palms on the floor, the frantic sound of him scurrying like a dog chasing its master.
“Stay.” The single command cracked through the quiet like a whip. He froze. “Don’t you fucking move.”
You didn’t need to see him to know he was obeying—you could feel the tension rolling off him, could almost taste the way he wanted to lunge forward, to drag his mouth back where it belonged. You felt his eyes bore between your legs, onto the mess he had created now cooling on your skin.
“P-Please…” Toby’s voice was a rasp, thick with need. “Please, let me—let m-me touch you—”
“I said no.”
Your words were final, and they cut. You heard him groan, guttural, muffling it into his fist. A second later, the sound of teeth scraping against knuckles filled the air—he was biting down hard just to keep himself quiet. You turned your head slightly, gaze dragging to where he stood, and what you saw made a laugh roll out of you, low and cruel.
Toby was doubled over, one hand fisting in his hoodie, the other clawing at the waistband of his jeans. The bulge strained hard and obscene against the denim, and he rocked into it like he could grind the ache away. He looked half feral, pupils blown, mouth wet, hair hanging in his face. Pathetic. Perfect.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” you teased, voice lazy with amusement. You knew it didn’t really hurt him, but he wanted to play pretend, didn’t he? “Can’t even move without thinking about me, huh?”
He groaned again, louder, his body jolting with the effort of restraint. His knuckles were slick with spit where his teeth dug in, and his free hand gripped his jeans like he could tear them open. You laughed again, sharper this time, and rolled onto your back. Your legs hung off the edge of the bed, feet brushing the floor, and you spread your knees wide, lazy and taunting. The motion was deliberate—an invitation, a cruelty, a display he couldn’t resist. It didn’t matter if he had already made you cum twice, you needed him to fuck you right now just to prove a point.
You were going to make this boy cum all by yourself. Not the idea of you, not his imagination—yourself.
“Go on, Toby,” you murmured, voice dripping with control. “Come here.”
Toby nearly tripped over himself getting to you, stepping between your dangling legs like he belonged there—like he had been waiting his whole life for it.
You leaned up onto your elbows, reaching a hand out to the edge of his waistband. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling in jagged heaves as your fingers toyed with his belt, tugging it open with a cruel kind of patience. The metallic clink of the buckle rang loud in the quiet room, and Toby’s hands twitched at his sides, useless, trembling, aching to reach for you.
“Keep them there,” you warned without looking up. “If you touch me without permission, you’re done.”
He whimpered softly—pathetic and desperate—and forced his arms straight at his sides, fingers flexing, curling into fists as though nailing himself to the spot.
You unzipped his jeans with a sharp tug, knuckles brushing the hard swell pressing against the fabric. Toby hissed through clenched teeth, head falling back, the veins in his throat standing out under the dim light. You smirked, tugging the thick fabric apart, and then slid your hand under his waistband, under the last barrier.
The heat of him hit you first—feverish and pulsing. You pulled him free, and your breath caught despite yourself.
Toby’s cock was flushed, angry red, the skin tight and stretched, a bead of slick shining at the tip. His breath came out in a stutter when the cool air touched him, his thighs trembling under your gaze. He was thick in your hand, twitching, the veins standing out like cords beneath your grip. His pubic hair was just as messy and unkempt as the rest of his hair, running up in a smattered patch to his belly button, coaxing your eyes to the mouthwatering crease of his v-line.
You let go of him, rubbing that hand between your legs, wetting your hand with your own slick. Toby’s teeth practically chattered as he thrummed, watching you.
And you didn’t give him mercy. Not even a second. You dragged the same hand you’d just rubbed against your soaked core up his shaft, coating him in your slick before your fist wrapped around him fully. Toby nearly folded in half, a broken noise tearing from his throat as his knees buckled.
“Fuck—” his voice cracked.
You stroked him hard. Fast. Cruel. Your hand pumped with purpose, each stroke wet, obscene, loud in the heavy silence. His cock twitched violently in your grip, swollen and desperate, precum smearing across your knuckles as you worked him like you were wringing every ounce of need out of his body.
Toby ripped his hoodie off like it was strangling him, yanking it over his head and tossing it blindly aside. His chest was pale, scarred in streaks that caught the dim light of your room, his stomach taut and flexing with every jerk of your hand. His hair clung wild to his forehead, his lips slick, swollen, parted in ragged gasps. He looked ruined—an animal panting, feigning for you.
And fuck, you hated him. You’d always hated him. Hated the way he laughed, the way he berated you, the way he made everything harder than it had to be. But now—seeing him above you, trembling, literally begging for the mercy of your hand—something deep and feral cracked open inside you.
You tightened your grip and stroked faster.
Toby’s whole body jerked. His hands shot forward instinctively, clamping around your wrist, not to stop you, but to slow you down. His face was wrecked, eyes glassy and pleading, mouth falling open around broken words. “Please—please slow d-down—fuck, I—” He groaned, panting above you, chest heaving with every groan. “You’re—you’re gonna make me—fuck—too fast—”
Your grip went iron-tight for a moment, jerking him so hard his hips jolted forward—then you stopped. Let go.
Toby gasped, his body shuddering as the sudden loss ripped through him. His cock bobbed helplessly in the air between you, slick and flushed, veins throbbing as if the blood inside him had nowhere else to go. His chest heaved, mouth open, eyes wide with disbelief.
You stared up at him, pure venom in your gaze, lips curling into a cruel little smile. “What did I say, Toby?”
His gaze shot down to where his hand still gripped yours.
“I told you not to touch me,” you hissed, shaking off his hand like it disgusted you. “But you couldn’t help yourself, could you? Can’t listen to anything.”
The mockery in your voice carved him open. He whined, stepping back an inch as if it physically stung, his cock twitching painfully in the air between you. Then, without warning, you sat up. Toby’s eyes darted down, confused, hopeful, but then widened when your hands went to the hem of your shirt. You peeled it off in one slow, deliberate motion, baring yourself, and tossed it carelessly aside.
His breath stuttered. He looked like you’d punched him in the gut. You leaned forward again, close enough that your breath fanned against his chest, eyes locked on his ruined face. You didn’t touch him. Not a single brush of your hand. You just sat back a little and watched. Watched as his hips twitched, as he tried to will himself not to reach for you again, as his cock leaked and throbbed helplessly, straining toward the heat of your body.
He writhed in it like it was killing him. His hands fisted at his sides so hard his knuckles cracked, his chest heaving with harsh, uneven gasps. His jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple. The desperation turned sharp, ragged.
“F-Fuck you,” he spat, the words rough, guttural. “You—you fucking t-t-tease—you think you’re—gah-goddamn better than me?”
You tilted your head, smirking cruelly. “I don’t have to think it.”
His huff came out half a snarl, half a whimper. He shifted on his feet, cock jerking violently, his whole body tight with the strain of keeping his hands off you.
“Don’t—don’t fucking d-do this,” he begged through gritted teeth, but even his curses broke into something needy. “Goddamn bitch—you can’t—fuck—you can’t just stop—”
“Oh, I can,” you murmured sweetly, leaning back on your elbows so your chest arched and his eyes dropped helplessly. “I told you not to touch me. You broke the rules. Now you get nothing.”
He actually growled, low in his throat, head dropping forward as he cursed again. His words were broken, a tangle of hatred and begging, teeth grinding as though if he didn’t use them to form insults, he’d cry out something weaker. “Fuck you—fuck—you’re s-so goddamn—” He groaned, thighs trembling. “Please, please—I’m begging you—don’t l-leave me like this—I’ll d-do anything—you h-hear me?”
The sound of his voice like that—shattered, strung out, caught between curses and pleas—shot straight through you. It stirred something low and hungry in your gut, made your skin prickle with heat. You smirked lazily, stretching your legs a little wider, making sure he saw everything. “You hate me so much, Toby,” you taunted, voice low, sultry. “So why are you begging me like a dog?”
He stared at you, jaw twitching with irritation. You tilted your head at him, lips curling into something cruel. His chest was heaving, his cock red and leaking, his fists trembling at his sides, and you knew he was about to break.
You dragged the knife in deeper.
“Aww,” you cooed, sliding off the edge of the mattress and rolling over onto your stomach. You crawled forward a little, your hips swaying as you moved further up the bed. Toby’s eyes followed every inch, wide and wild, his whole body shaking like an animal straining against its leash.
Then you stopped, sank down onto your elbows, your chest pressing to the sheets. You arched your back so hard it burned, your ass high in the air, cunt fluttering in time with your heartbeat. You glanced back at him over your shoulder, your voice low.
“Then come here, puppy.”
The word cracked him in half.
Toby didn’t hesitate. He scrambled up onto the bed so fast it shook under his weight, knees digging into the mattress as his hands clamped down hard on your hips. His boots scuffed the sheets, twisting them under his knees as he pressed behind you. His grip was bruising, frantic, like he thought you might slip away if he didn’t anchor you.
He slammed into you without hesitation, the force brutal and reckless. His cock drove deep, fast, urgent, and you gasped from the sharp, animalistic impact. He was panting, growling, releasing all the frustration, all the rage he’d been holding back, smashing into you like he’d intended on tearing you open.
“God—fuck!” he hissed, voice ragged, teeth clenched. “You—you’ve ruined me—stupid—fucking—”
You gritted your teeth, holding the bedspread tight, letting him feel your every shiver and thrum, every gasp and muffled cry. You pressed back against him just enough to meet each brutal thrust, riding his anger as much as he rode you. His hands clenched your hips tighter, dragging you back onto him with each slam. His motions were messy, desperate—no care for rhythm, only a need to fuck, to bury himself inside you, to release everything pent up in the past week. The bed creaked and groaned under the weight of you both, sheets twisting, skin slapping against skin.
“Yours?” you spat back, tone sharp and mocking. “You’re the one—hah—the one begging to fuck m-me—”
That stoked something further in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, reckless, as though trying to drive every ounce of need into you and make you feel his desperation. His growls turned to raw moans, voice trembling as he ground into you without restraint. One hand pressed against your back, the other gripping tight into the sheets beneath.
You could feel the stretch of him, hot and hard, sliding inside you in short, punishing jolts. Your stomach twisted, thighs pressed tight together, arching deeper with every slam, taking his animalistic pace.
The bed rocked under you, nails clawed into the sheets, every movement messy, filthy, primal. He was broken, panting, utterly at your mercy, and you turned your head to watch, smirking as he cursed and groaned, burying his face in your neck for support.
His lips found purchase, dragging wet, sloppy kisses along the sensitive skin there. A shiver ran through you, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your throat. Your hands shot up, tangling in his hair, yanking him closer to you, forcing his mouth against your skin as you pressed back against him, matching each thrust, each grind, each slick slide with your own desperate, hungry movements.
He groaned against you, teeth grazing your neck, and you bit back—literally—snapping your teeth down on his lower lip as he kissed you, mouth opening against yours in a collision of teeth and tongues. The kiss was violent, messy, consuming—an echo of the chaos that had always defined your dynamic. You shoved your body flush against him, hips rocking, back arching, dragging him as close as you could manage, fingers twisting in his hair like you were trying to tether him to you entirely.
“Fuck, I’m—” Toby rasped against your lips, breath rough, voice trembling. “I-I’m about to—shit, don’t stop—”
But you weren’t having it. Not yet. Not when you had the power, not when you could control him fully. With a sudden, deliberate push of your hips, you shoved him off of you, rolling the two of you until he landed on his back with a soft thump, sheets twisting beneath the force.
You straddled him immediately, knees planted on either side of his hips, pressing down with calculated weight. The shift of power was instant—Toby’s hands went to your hips instinctively, trying to find purchase, but you leaned back slightly, letting gravity work for you as you sank down onto him, his eyes watching as your cunt sheathed him.
“Mine,” you murmured, voice low, sharp, and all teeth and heat as you began to rock, rolling your hips forward and back with controlled, measured force. “This is mine from now on.”
He gasped, gripping your thighs, still trying to reclaim some sense of command, but you moved faster, harder, hips pushing down and pulling back like a pendulum. Toby’s head fell back against the mattress, hair tousled, lips parted in ragged moans, eyes glazed and desperate. Every thrust from you hit him with a sharp, relentless rhythm that had him gasping, shivering under your control. His hands gripped your hips, nails digging into your skin, begging, pleading, but you were merciless. You refused to move up and down, only dragging your hips back and forth, catching your clit on the tone of his pelvis.
“You like this?” you spat, leaning forward, pressing your chest against his, teeth brushing along his collarbone. “You like being mine, don’t you? Finally listening.”
“Yes! Fuck—yes!” he rasped, voice breaking, hands clinging to you. “You’re—fuck—you’re killing me—god, I’m y-yours—please—”
You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a wild, consuming kiss, tongue slipping inside to tangle with his as your hips rolled again, faster now, driving him closer to the edge.
“You whine too much, puppy.”
You leaned up slightly, pressing your palms flat against his chest, letting your fingers wander over the taut planes of his abs. The heat radiating from him was insane, skin burning, muscles tight under your touch. Slowly, you dragged your hands higher until your fingers latched onto the familiar groove of his throat—the place where all of this had started, where this little game had started between you.
Toby’s breath hitched immediately. His hands shot to your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you as he thrust upward into your cunt. You gasped at the sharp, thrilling impact, the way his body forced yours down, bouncing you against him. He didn’t even hesitate—he wanted it, craved it, and he wasn’t holding back.
“Did you jerk off like this—hnngh—the first time I choked you? This fast?” you spat, voice low and sharp, watching his eyes begin to water.
“I—fuck—yes!” he rasped, tilting his head back, mouth open in ragged gasps. His hands slid higher, cupping your tits roughly, thumbs teasing, squeezing, forcing your movements to match his rhythm of jerking his hips up into you.
You grinned, biting down on your bottom lip as the chaos of it hit you. He was giving, he was taking, every motion messy, raw, and beautiful in its recklessness. You bounced down onto him, hard, each bounce of your hips shoving his cock deep, his hands clawing and forcing your body to meet his own.
“I hate you,” you hissed, brushing teeth over his collarbone, letting your grip tighten around his throat. “I hate you. I hate—hah—hate you. Fuck—don’t stop.”
Toby choked, face flushing against the grip on his neck, his breathing becoming labored. “Fu-Fuck—Fuck you bitch. Feels s-so—mmmnh—so good—” His hand reached around and slapped across your ass, grabbing the flesh in his palm and forcing your hips faster, forcing your pace to match his desperate thrusts.
You responded in kind, hitting his face with your palm once, twice, letting the sharp sting mix with the slick, hot heat between your bodies. He didn’t care. He couldn’t feel the pain, the slap, the rough hands on his chest, and it made him buck harder, moaning and growling in pure, unfiltered need. You slapped him again.
Toby’s growls turned sharp at that, low and dangerous, cutting through the thick, humid heat of the room. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, nails digging into your flesh as he thrust up against you. “You feel too fu-fucking good,” he spat, voice rough, teasingly cruel. “I’m gonna m-make you cum fi-first, bitch.”
“Oh, are you kidding?” you shot back, slamming down hard on him, hands wrapping tighter around his throat, eyes wild. “You’re gonna cum like the pathetic little pervert you are.”
His laugh was harsh, raw, vibrating against your hands. “You always h-have to—fuck—have to have a comeback—can’t j-just be quiet—”
You cut him off with another slap, your nail cutting his cheek where you hit him. A thin line of blood welled, and Toby stared at you through wide, frantic eyes. He grabbed harder, leaving dark purples across your hips and waist where his nails dug deep, tracing patterns only he could leave, marking you as his even as you marked him.
The room was chaos: skin slapping against skin, groans and curses tearing from both of you, bodies slick with sweat, hair wild and tangled, breaths ragged. Each thrust, each grind, each sharp slap or bite escalated the tension between you, a dangerous dance of dominance and pain and raw, primal need.
“C-Cum” he growled, tilting his hips, driving into you with bruising force, knocking the head of his cock against your cervix.
“Not before you,” you shot back, grinning fiercely, rolling your hips to match his pace, nails digging into the taut plane of his stomach as you leaned down to bite at his jaw, licking up his cheek to the spot you nicked him. Blood and sweat mixed, hot and sharp on your tongue, and it only pushed you both harder.
His hands dug into your thighs and waist, leaving angry red marks, dragging you down, forcing you to ride him with every ounce of strength and ferocity. You matched him blow for blow, bite for bite, scratch for scratch, until the two of you were a mess of raw, gleaming skin, bruises and blood painting the chaos of your struggle.
“I’m—fuck, Toby—fuck I’m coming—” you cried, digging your nails into his chest.
He whined, staring at the heavy way your eyes looked, his beginning to flutter shut. “Mhm—I c-can’t—hnn, I can’t stop—I’m gonna—”
Teeth sank, nails scraped, hips slammed, and finally the tension broke in a violent, shuddering peak. You both came together, voices strangled, wet, raw, bodies shaking, muscles trembling, bruised and marked and utterly wrecked. He snapped his hips one final time, and your cunt clenched against him so hard you felt the way he pulsed inside you. Every rope of hot cum filling you, claiming you. You milked every drop from him.
You collapsed against him, chest pressed to his, hearts pounding in furious synchrony. His breath came in ragged gasps, head tilted to the side, lips red, eyes glazed. You looked at him, smirk twisting across your lips even through the haze of post-climax heat.
“You’re disgusting,” you murmured, voice low, laced with satisfaction.
“And you’re worse,” he shot back, voice hoarse, smiling anyway despite the blood and mess.
For a moment, the fire between you softened just enough to let something else creep in. Your lips met his, sharp at first, teeth grazing, tasting the sweat and salt—but then, slower, gentler. The anger and frustration that had fueled you for the past two weeks melted, just for a second, into something almost tender. You kissed him, ignoring the slick heat still clinging to your thighs, the marks you’d left on each other, the bruises that would ache for days.
When you finally pulled back, your chest heaving, you allowed yourself a smirk, wet and satisfied. Slowly, achingly slow, you sat up, straddling him for one last lingering moment. He watched as your hips rose, his hands brushing your knees as you pulled him out, hissing at the tug before the final pop.
You felt the warmth slipping down your thighs immediately, his cum and your arousal making your cunt uncomfortably warm and sticky. You groaned.
“Fuck you,” you hissed, hitting his chest, Toby’s eyes nearly damn sparkling at the sight of his cum dripping out of you.. “You really are a damn dog.”
You collapsed onto the bed next to him, letting your arms fall across your chest. Your foot connected sharply with his side in a lazy, spiteful push. “Go away,” you muttered, tone sharp but breathless, still buzzing from the aftermath.
Toby groaned softly, but he didn’t move. Instead, he kicked his boots off with a quick, clumsy motion, then tugged the remnants of his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down, surprised how they had managed to still stay on at all. He tossed them onto your floor. His eyes flicked to yours—but there was no pleading, no frantic edge this time.
Without a word, he crawled up next to you, chest brushing yours, arm draping loosely over your waist. You flinched slightly at the contact, the lingering warmth between you both still slick and potent, but the anger had faded into something heavy, intimate. Tense. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the raw, unspoken agreement that had finally, messily, solidified between you.
For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You could feel him, warm and pressed against your side, heartbeat rattling in sync with your own. Your hands twitched, itching to push him away or move out of his reach—but instead, you let the silence settle, letting his arm lay limp across your waist.
Toby shifted slightly beside you, his fingers rubbing against your skin absentmindedly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You know,” he muttered, voice low and tired, “I re-really don’t like being c-called a dog.”
You arched an eyebrow, smirking, reaching for your pillows and placing one under your head. “Then maybe you shouldn’t beg me like one.”
He rolled his eyes, but his gaze stayed locked on yours, sharp and intense, and you felt a flutter in your stomach you hadn’t expected. “Stop staring at me like that,” you said quickly, voice catching slightly. “You’re being weird. Go back to your own room already befo—”
He cut you off with a soft chuckle, leaning a little closer. “Can I k-kiss you again?” His tone was cautious, different from the heated demands of earlier, almost vulnerable.
Your heart thumped, and you stared at him, eyes flicking between his and his mouth, searching for something you couldn’t quite name. The air between you thickened, tense and electric.
Finally, you shook your head slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “I hate you, Toby. That’s not going to change,” you said, flat but not cruel, voice almost a whisper.
Toby’s smile widened, slow and knowing, as if he’d been waiting for that. “Then hate me,” he murmured softly, leaning in.
And then he kissed you. Not hot, not frantic, not messy and angry like before—just a kiss. Soft, slow, a quiet brush of lips, a grounding anchor in the aftermath of a hurricane. It was a moment of connection, a fleeting affirmation that despite the violence, the teasing, and the mess of the past weeks, there was… something between you. Affection, of a sort neither of you had admitted until now. A weird type of longing.
When you pulled back, your foreheads brushed together for a second, eyes flicking to one another with something like understanding. No words were needed—just the weight of what had passed, and the subtle promise that, messy and complicated as it was, this was far from over.
But then you palmed his face, pushing his head away from you with a grin. He smiled against your hand, kissing it, too. His arm around your hip pulled you closer, and if you leaned into it, that’s nobody’s business but your own.
── .✦
The mission site was scattered with debris, slick blood, and the lingering metallic tang that you knew you’d have to clean up. The proxies moved efficiently, hauling bodies, wiping down surfaces, and gathering evidence, but you and Toby, as usual, couldn’t go five minutes without trading insults.
“God, you’re useless at this,” you snapped, throwing a wet rag at him that stunk of bleach and vinegar.
“I’m sorry Ms. Fucking Perfect, d-do it your damn self,” he shot back, voice sharp. You both glared at each other, daring the other to keep going.
Masky groaned behind you, rubbing his temples. “Are we still on about this? Just clean the goddamn blood.”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you stood and grabbed Toby by the arm mid-retort and yanked him up, dragging him with you. Masky shouted something, but you were already climbing the stairs and dragging him to the first storage closet you saw. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react further, you shoved the door closed behind him.
He barely had a moment to process before his hands were on you, lips crashing against yours in a fast, rough kiss. His tongue darted in, claiming, and your hands tangled up into his hair as he slid one hand down the front of your pants, fingers immediately finding their mark and pressing against your aching clit.
You gasped into the kiss, teeth clashing against his in a way that was half challenge, half need. His other hand clutched at your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, the chaos of the mission, the others, the world outside that small, cramped closet, ceased to exist.
And in that moment, you realized just how much had shifted between the two of you.
The bickering, the arguing, the constant pushing each other’s buttons—it was all still there. You still drove him insane, and he still managed to get under your skin in ways no one else could. But instead of letting it spill over, instead of making everyone else deal with the fallout, you’d found a… solution.
You snuck off during missions, hearts racing, to bite, lick, and fuck the tension out of each other. After dinner, when the others were distracted, one of you would find the other and drag them to some quiet area of the mansion and use their hands on the other, letting the frustration and irritation turn into heat that left you both gasping and sticky. At night, sneaking into each other’s rooms to whisper insults, spurring the other on just so they’d grab you and fuck you through the mattress. During missions, your trips taking longer because you’d have to stop and fight over who was going to give the other head first.
It was messy. It was reckless. It was everything the two of you had always been—and now, for the first time, it was satisfying. The anger became fuel, the hate became lust, and the fights that had once been a thorn in everyone else’s side became an intimate, electric game of control, dominance, and pure, unfiltered need.
And even as you found yourself pressed against him in this closet, hands gripping, hips sliding together, teeth clashing, gasps mingling with curses, you couldn’t help but smile.
Eventually, the door clicked open, and you both staggered out, breath still ragged, hands sticky, hair wild, but the world had resumed its usual pace. Toby followed a step behind, straightening his hoodie, adjusting his belt, hands now conspicuously idle. You fixed your hair, wiping the slick from your lips, tugging your shirt back down.
Without a word, the two of you fell back into your roles, hauling gear, wiping surfaces, and cleaning up the aftermath like the chaos of a few minutes ago had never existed. You moved in tandem with him only because necessity demanded it, but there was a subtle electricity in the air, just enough that you both noticed—but neither spoke of it.
Masky and Hoodie exchanged a look across the room, each raising an eyebrow. Hoodie whispered something inaudible, and Masky shook his head, muttering, “I don’t care. They’re quiet.” They were confused, but grateful that the usual bickering had been replaced by quiet efficiency. They didn’t care how it got to that point.
Kate leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing look in her eyes. She watched as you and Toby moved through the cleanup with the barest hint of coordination, eyes occasionally flicking toward each other in a way that suggested familiarity… maybe even fondness, if one squinted.
Sliding closer to you as you scrubbed a particularly messy patch of floor, she whispered, teasing, “What’s changed? I didn’t know you started liking him.”
You froze mid-swipe, wiping at the surface with one hand, and let your gaze drift lazily toward Toby. He was kneeling a few feet away, straightening a chair, annoyed and fidgeting as usual, completely oblivious to Kate’s question.
A slow, amused smirk curved your lips. “Nah,” you said, voice light as you stared at him. “I hate that boy.”
Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!
Summary: You and your friend decide to see if you can find ghosts in an abandoned asylum as you record the whole thing. When you run into Hoodie, he thinks it’d be fun to record you instead.
Characters: Hoodie x Female Reader
SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI
TW: Recording sex, bad blowjob, vaginal, threatening with a gun, pussy slapping, size difference, forcing, gagging, stretching, cream pie, size difference
Words: 3.9k
You spent your whole life filming everything.
It didn’t matter what. Eating breakfast, going to the store, hanging with friends, everything was caught on your little camcorder. You had an internet personality to keep up with and feeding your viewers your personal life was a hefty job. But you loved it.
So, of course, when your best friend messaged you about some supposedly haunted mental asylum twenty minutes off the interstate, you had to get it on camera.
The mid-autumn breeze blew through your hair as you and your friend packed your filming equipment into the back of your car, shutting the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat. The asylum wasn’t even an hour away. But as you sped down the interstate, it was like the whole atmosphere had changed. The clouds were dark, the wind blew leaves from the trees, and this ominous darkness loomed around you.
“Where did these rain clouds come from?” Your friend mumbled, scrolling through her phone and checking the weather which didn’t offer many answers. Brushing it off, you turned down an overgrown dirt road off the highway and searched for the building. If it did start raining, there was no way you were getting your camera out of the car. And if there was no camera, there was no reason for you to go inside. But as you drove further, an overgrown sign dangled on the side of the path. ‘State Asylum for the Mentally Insane.’ Charming. It was much farther after that that you could see the run-down building come into view, boarded up windows and patches of wall missing. The decorations of the building had all but disintegrated, but the foundation and skeleton of the building still stood strong minus the crumbling sections of walls. You pulled the car as close to the end of the path as you could before the overgrown plants stopped your path. Shutting the engine off, you sat and stared at the rolling clouds swarming overhead, judging if this was a good idea or not. Obviously, you knew it wasn’t.
“Shit, whole things coming down. Wonder how much longer it's got till it completely crumbles.” Your friends laughed, hopping out of the car and opening the trunk, slinging a bag full of voice recorders over her shoulder. “I hope we don’t find out.” You joked back, sliding to the back and grabbing your camera and backpack full of batteries and hard drives. The wind howled through the building, an eerie whistling noise echoing off the decaying walls that were visible from the outside. If you couldn’t find anything haunted in there, at least you’d get some good aesthetic shots. “I say we make a lap through the building and see if we can find any particular room that feels right to set up in. Y’know, see if it feels haunted.” They laughed, slamming the trunk shut and sauntering towards the entrance, a large dark door with shattered lanterns on either side. You flipped open your camera lens, filming a good shot of your friend shoving the door open and peeking inside. You quickly followed behind, skipping up the steps and peeking inside yourself.
The entrance was dark, furniture and paintings rusted with age and tossed around on the ground. Leaves and cobwebs accented the space, giving just the right amount of old and creepy as you filmed you both entering. The wind howled through the halls as you scanned each room, discovering abandoned medical supplies, facility rooms, and rows and rows of medical beds. All of it was caught on film, the dim lighting giving just the perfect balance with the soft glow of your flashlight. This had to get you views.
When you and your friend finally decided on a spot, a recreation room fit with a stage and tables, you set your audio recorders on the tables, little blinking lights illuminating the room as you pointed the camera. Your friend pulled out their flashlight, laying it on the table and flicking it on. You angled the lens, catching their face in the glow as they began to ask questions, the eerie quietness echoing their voice. “If there are any spirits here who are wishing to make themselves known, please do so now.” Silence. Besides the settling of the old floorboards, there wasn’t a movement or sound to be made. They tried again. “We’re here to do nothing more than talk. Please don’t be afraid to communicate.” Nothing again. You were growing impatient, switching your camera between your friend and the dormant recording devices, no lights signaling activity was being captured. Your friend groaned, holding out for maybe just some noise but ultimately flipping off the flashlight and scooping the recording equipment back into their bag. “Maybe we just picked a bad room. I want to try something though.” You flipped your camera shut, breathing deep and smelling nothing but mould and concrete. “And?”
They shuffled the bag onto their shoulder, shining their flashlight around the disheveled room. “I saw on some ghost channel they split up and went to opposite ends of their hospital and got a lot of activity. Apparently, ghosts like it when you’re alone.” They smiled, shuffling back to the hallway. “Sounds good to me,” It didn’t, but who were you to say no to some good content? “Walk to opposite ends of the building and meet back in thirty minutes?” You both nodded, turning away from each other as you trudged your way to the farthest end of the asylum.
You felt like you had walked forever, stepping down two flights of stairs until you ended up in what you assumed to be the basement. Random trash and unorganized medical equipment littered the floor but it was charming in a way, like the place was a relic of what it used to be. The damp air surrounded you, every step echoing off the concrete walls and recording beautifully as you flipped on your camera. Cobwebs hung in every corner, more afraid of running into one than running into an actual ghost, but content was content.
You set your camera on the ground, shining your flashlight at your face as you crisscrossed in front of the lens. The hall was silent, the dark corners sending chills up your spine as you couldn’t see past where your flashlight glow went. You settled yourself, breathing deeply before calling into the darkness. “If there are any spirits here who would like to communicate, please make yourself known.” Silence. The rhythmic dripping of water from the pipes offered some relief as you listened closely, but ultimately heard nothing. You sighed, trying again. “I am only here to talk. Please make yourself known.” Nothing still. It was relieving, sort of, praying internally that you’d find nothing as you stared into the camera’s lens. Shaking your head, you gave it one final attempt before you’d decide to head back upstairs. “If any spirits wa-”
That was when you heard it. The loud thud echoed from down the dark hallway. Fear shot through you, quickly aiming your flashlight but seeing nothing that could have made the noise. “Hello..?” You called, picking your camera up and directing it the same way. There was no response. But as you went to stand, a very clear sound of someone clearing their throat echoed. You scrambled to your feet, realizing this wasn’t going to be paranormal, but some squatter you’d accidentally run up on. Your hands were shaking but relentlessly keeping the camera trained on the hall, staring intently for any sign of motion. Deciding not to press your luck further, you quietly stepped towards the stairs, barely reaching the railing before you saw it. The tall figure of a man resting his shoulder on the wall beside you and staring straight at you.
A scream bubbled in your throat, panic building before he was on you in a second, his large hands shoving his over your mouth and holding your head still. You gripped your equipment tightly, panicking desperately as you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. That all stopped as soon as you felt the gunhead press against your ribs, nudging you to be compliant. “One word and I shoot.” He huffed, his deep voice reverberating against the walls. That’s when you could see him in the glow of your flashlight. He wore a ski mask that covered every feature of his face, but had a weird face drawn on. Tears rolled down your cheeks, realizing what a heap of trouble you were in. Whining, the man released your mouth but nudged the gun deeper into your rib, forcing you to the wall behind you. His gruff demeanor shakes you. “Explain yourself. Now.” He commanded, shoving the hilt further up. You panicked, quickly answering. “Uh- My f-friend and I came to see if we c- could find ghosts. I was making, uh, a video.” You cringed, holding the camera up as it was still rolling, capturing everything that had happened so far. The man jerked the camera out of your hand, examining it before tossing it to the floor, a whine escaping you as you watched it skid against the concrete. He leaned in close to your face, his breathing mumbled by the mask. “No ghosts, huh?” He towered over you, his large frame encapsulating you easily. You shook your head awkwardly, gulping as he pulled the gun from your side but quickly repositioned it under your chin, nudging it forcefully. “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m afraid this is as far as you’ll get.” He cocked the trigger, the noise sending a full-blown panic through you as you gripped his arm. “Please! Please- oh, God, I’ll do anything,” You huffed, tears pouring heavily. “Anything you want. Money, your dick sucked, food, anything!” You pleaded, face growing red as you shook with fear.
The man leaned back, pulling his finger off the trigger as he chuckled. “What was that second thing?” He smirked, resting his hand on his hip but not letting that gunhead leave your chin. You blushed roughly, your words betraying you as you just word-vomited something to save yourself. “I said anything.” You huffed, gritting your teeth as you felt the cold metal leave your skin, sighing deeply.
The man holstered his gun in the back of his jeans, sauntering over to your camera on the ground and scooping it up. He wiped it off, flipping the screen open before pointing it at you. You blushed, feeling awkward on the other side of the lens for once. He chuckled, stepping closer to you as he moved the camera to the side, staring at you directly. “Well?” He grinned, focusing his gaze back on the camera screen that captured your red face, the flash accentuating your features. His mask concealed his expression making you unsure if he was being serious or not, but you didn’t want to test those waters knowing full well he had a gun.
You awkwardly knelt in front of him, the concrete wall behind you cramping you. The truth was, you had no clue what you were doing. No boyfriends made their way around to lay you, so whatever you were about to pull out of your ass: your life literally depended on it.
You fiddled with his belt, sliding it open before nervously pulling the zipper of his jeans down. He wasn’t even half-hard in his boxers. You palmed at the bulge awkwardly, glancing up as the camera stared at you, his face peeking behind and watching you closely. Growing in your hand, you tucked your fingers under his boxers and tugged them down, his large cock barely bobbing out. It was awkward, but you took the length in your hands and slowly began to stroke, feeling it harden slowly. This was good. Nervousness pricked at your stomach as you licked at the tip. You slowly pressed the now hard length into your mouth, getting as deep as you could before pulling back. Slobber coated the length, gleaming in the flash of the camera. You leaned back in, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and taking the rest of what you could in your mouth. It wasn’t good and you knew it. Your teeth constantly scraped against his length. Not to mention any time the tip passed your tongue you were gagging back off of it.
He was growing impatient, the half-assed attempt at head making his head hurt. You felt his hand slink up the back of your head and grip a handful of your hair, slowly guiding your head back onto his cock. “Open wide.” He commanded, holding the camera lower to get a good shot. You hung your jaw lower, gripping his jeans quickly as you felt him press into your mouth further than you knew you could take. You gagged, straining to pull your head back but he wouldn’t let you, he just kept pushing your head further. You slammed your eyes shut, tears pricking as you wrapped your lips around the thick cock deep in your mouth. He finally pulled your head back, giving you a second to breathe before you snapped his hips back into your mouth quickly. You whined, throat choking as he thrust your head on his cock quickly. He held your hair tightly as he forced himself down your throat, practically face-fucking you and not giving you a second to adjust.
“Damn, you got a mouth on you, huh?” He huffed, shoving the camera closer to your mouth wrapping around him tightly. You groaned, eyes rolling as you gagged each time his cock pressed against the back of your throat. It was loud and vulgar, the wet sounds echoing off the walls. He refused to let up though, groaning as he held your head back. “There you go. Keep that throat open, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, pressing your head flush against him but not pulling away. You began to panic, gripping at his jeans as you choked, no air reaching you. He chuckled, cock throbbing in your mouth at the sound of drool gurgling in your throat. He finally pulled you off his length, a loud gasp escaping you as air filled your lungs. He pulled your hair back making you stare at the camera, your flushed face and slobber-covered lips shining brightly against the flash. “God…” He let go of your hair, pumping his cock into his hand before kneeling at your level. “Yeah, I’m not done with you.” He grinned, gripping your legs pulling them out from under you and landing you on your back. He crawled over you, nudging himself between your legs as he tugged at your shirt until it bunched above your bra. He hooked his fingers under the cups, pushing them up and exposing your tits. Hands were on them in a second, massaging and pulling at the mounds.
Your whines echoed as he pinched your nipples, pulling them roughly and kneading the buds in between his fingers. “You’ve got such a nice body sweetheart. I can’t wait to ruin it.” He scaled the camera across your body and shot your curves well. It was incredibly embarrassing.
He pulled his hands off your nipples, leaning back to set the camera on the ground and angle it between your legs, getting a good shot of your crotch. If anything, you were impressed with his familiarity with a camera. But the other half of you cringed as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them off your legs, giving the camera a clear shot of your damp panties. His fingers rubbed at the spot, his thumb pressing roughly against your clit and making you squirm. You reached down quickly, grabbing his wrist. That wasn’t going to happen. He immediately grabbed your wrists in return, pinning your hands above your head and relishing the way your body arched in defiance. “Calm down, huh? Relax…” He grinned, sliding your panties off your hips with his right hand and sliding his fingers up your folds, collecting your arousal. Pressing your legs open, he spread your folds the same, the cold air making your clit twitch. “Such a pretty cunt…” He groaned, spreading your lips and spitting against your hole, making you squirm.
He rubbed his fingers against your entrance, circling the area as you arched your back, silently begging for him to slide them in. That was when you saw his hand reach back and quickly slap down on your cunt, a sharp sting hitting you. You gasped, his hand slapping you again before you could even say anything. His palm continued to connect with your cunt, rubbing the area roughly before bringing his hand back to slap down again. You were a whining mess, every sting and slap making you so much wetter. The squelching sounds your cunt made every time his palm reached was embarrassing, your moans mixing and creating an insanely lewd noise. “God! Please…” You whined, squeezing your knees closer and trapping his hand against your cunt. He chuckled, giving in and pressing his fingers into your soaked entrance, a loud squelch echoing. You groaned, his fingers reaching deeply inside of you and curling just the right way. When he began to pump his fingers, it was all you could do not to scream your pleasure. Your throbbing clit ached as his fingers curled against your walls, each curl causing them to clench down. His thick fingers worked you open, your squirming body being easily held down by his muscled arms. Your orgasm came incredibly fast, your walls tightening around his fingers as they stretched your entrance wide and became soaked with your ecstasy.
He pulled his fingers out sharply and brought them to the hem of his mask as he slid it up just above his nose. He licked his fingers of your arousal, smiling at you as he took them down to the knuckle. Your eyes frantically glanced at the camera lens, the flash blinding you as you begged the battery would magically die and none of this would be recorded. No luck. “Damn sweetheart, you think that cunt’s ready for me yet?” He grinned, pulling his mask back down and wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling you quickly to rest your thighs on top of his. His cock was twitching and angry, the head pulsing as he pumped it in his hands. He let it rest on your tummy. You glance down, head spinning as you realize just how big he is. “Oh, I’m gonna be in there.” He chuckled, releasing your wrists to scoop his hands under your hips and angle them up. He nudged the head of his cock against your entrance, leaning down to meet his face with your as he breathed deeply. “Try to not scream, yeah?”
Before you could question why, he slammed your hips down onto his length. The rough stretch and sting of him entering you so abruptly made you cry out, tears leaking down your cheeks. He didn’t wait. Either because he couldn’t or because he didn’t care. His hips snapped into you quickly, fingers digging into your bare hips as he forced your hips to connect with his. “Shit-” He was grunting with every thrust, heavily breathing behind the mask. Your moans and cries matched his, every nudge of his cock against your walls making your back arch and jaw hang open. It was dizzying. He was perched on his knees, holding your hips off the ground and fucking into you like some fleshlight.
Every tug at his hands and pull at his jacket went unnoticed as you clawed against him, trying your hardest to find some stability as your body was being rammed against. Your cunt throbbed with every squelch and slap, your walls constricting around the thick length invading inside of you. The camera caught it all, angled perfectly to see every inch of his cock sink into your cunt as he thrust quickly. It caught every lewd moan, every slap of skin. The tears were rolling down your cheeks, the sting and stretch of him mixing with the absolute pleasure slamming into you. “Fuck, so tight. Gonna milk me dry, sweetheart.” He huffed, repositioning for a split second before angling his hips up to ram into your g-spot. You screamed out, hand reaching for your clit as you rubbed in pace with his thrusts up into you.
That’s when he grabbed the camera, angling it down directly at your cunt as he sunk into you quickly. “Cum on my cock. Yeah, let me see it.” He moaned, shoving your hand out of the way to press his own fingers against your clit, rubbing quick and rough. You slapped your hands over your face, eyes rolling as you felt your orgasm rushing against you. The masked man was moaning louder, little whines escaping his lips as his own pace became sloppy. “Cum all over me, sweetheart.” He groaned. It sent you over, waves of pleasure crashing into you quickly as he refused to let off of your clit. You screamed out, arching your back against his fingers as he rubbed your orgasm out. Walls around his cock constricted, milking him as he held the camera close, the flash catching every drop of sweat and arousal that mixed on you. He bottomed out against you, moaning loudly as he released deep into your cunt.
The room went quiet apart from your panting. The camera caught it all, each pulse of his cock as he filled you full, your hands gripping tightly against his wrist as he held his thumb over your clit. He slowly pulled out, hissing as you felt the stretch of him. When his head popped out, he moved the camera down, catching every second as his seed leaked out of you. “Did so good sweetheart. Took me so good.” He huffed, sliding his fingers through your folds and spreading his release across your cunt, making you squirm. He pressed his fingers into your swallowed entrance, pressing his seed back in. When he pulled them out, he flipped the camera shut, turning the flash off and setting it back on the ground.
Finding your panties, he slid them back on you and relished as he watched them soak darker. He helped you button your pants back, pulling your shirt down and helping you stand. Handing you the camera, he laughed at your hazy expression, your heavy eyes and swollen cheeks evident of your fucked out cunt. “Thanks, sweetheart, now run along before I change my mind.” He huffed, turning back to the dark hallway and waving you off. “Good luck with your ghosts.” You nodded, frantically turning back to the steps and rushing up to the fresh air. It hadn’t been long, but as you listened closely and heard the sound of heavy rain, you trudged to the other side of the asylum and found your friend just as hopeless as you left them.
“Did you find anything? I had a whole lot of nothing.” They sighed, leading you to the entrance and out to the car as you tried to hide your equipment from the rain. “Nah. Nothing interesting.” You sighed, climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off back down the dirt path.
When you eventually made it home, you sprinted to your laptop and shoved the SD card in, loading up the video. Your hand covered your mouth as you watched the scene unfold, arousal growing in your pants again as you felt the leak of the masked man’s seed against your folds.
The video played through, every squelch and moan sending shivers through you as your hand slid down between your legs, rubbing lazily as you rewatched his cock sink inside of you.
Summary: Your body hurt, heaving and clawing to escape. They were catching up, laughter echoing through the dense trees as you ran, praying for your stamina to hold. But you knew you weren’t fast enough, and so did they…
Fight or flight is described as an instinctual reaction that occurs when the body perceives a threat, rallying for survival.
Psychologically, it changes you, gripping for any out or sense of security as it pushes its own comfortability. It’s primal, animalistic, and desperate; mind clawing for any serenity. Your mind and body were screaming, like every inch of your consciousness was being ripped apart the harder you fought. You wanted to cry and scream and get away, but they wouldn’t let you. They were going to make sure you lost this bet.
The ground was damp, mulch and rocks lodged into your knees as you clattered to the dirt, heaving for breath. You didn’t remember which direction you were trying to go, but it didn’t matter as you pushed your aching body up, lunging back into a sprint. Rain and fog blurred your senses, the stout smell of wet earth suffocating you with every labored gasp.
The woods felt like they went on forever, large pines and ominous maples cutting off your direction and forcing you into a maze, the schlick of mud under your shoes echoing with every quick step. You were soaked with sweat and rain, hair clinging annoyingly to your face and blocking your vision. Your clothes felt heavy on your skin, making it hard not to get overstimulated and tired. “Fuck-” You gasped, rounding a mound of roots to find a patch of brambles, head spinning and looking for another direction. The loud thumping of boots was heavy behind you, branches and leaves snapping as you heard hollers paired with eager laughter calling out your name, searching for you. There was no other direction. You hauled forward.
It was your fault, really. You roused them on, claiming stealth and agility were better tactics for a killer than brute force and power. The boys chuckled, arms crossed and stupid grins shining as they teased. It was always so odd to see them without their masks, especially in such good moods.
“Oh yeah? And who says that?” Masky poked at you, leaning back into the door of the rental truck you had all lived in for the past week. This mission was exhausting, another hitman job for the Operator that you really couldn’t bring yourself to be passionate about. The boys weren’t too thrilled either. Sleeping cramped into a single cab as the only girl was devastating. The smell of no showers and lack of proper meals was getting to you now, a two-day headache pounding at the base of your skull and making you nauseous. At least they let you have the back seat to yourself.
“Uh, says the one who’s gunned down more than both of you?” You scoffed, kicking some gravel from the campsite parking lot. “Don’t you ever notice how I’m the one having to pick off the stragglers when you two come in guns blazing? I swear, you two only think with your revolvers instead of your actual brains.”
Hoodie chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the truck bed. “These brains don’t do much thinking anymore anyways.” You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” Looking out across the field meant for hunting, a dense treeline hung just over the clearing as the sun began to set, deep oranges and pinks pushing through the leaves. You couldn’t remember what state you were in, somewhere north and cold, early autumn setting in as the breeze whipped against your cheeks. It was going to rain tonight, you could see it in the way the leaves upturned, the thick smell of distant downpours on the bark stirring in the air. “Just saying. I could outrun you both and still have the energy to take down someone. You two wouldn’t last a second without your precious little weapons strapped to your hip.”
The boys tensed, eyes narrowing as they looked at each other, a silent challenge welling up. “How about a game then? Put your little stealth tactic to the test.” Masky huffed, a stupid grin matching the eagerness in his eyes. Hoodie nodded along, pushing off the truck bed as he stepped closer, his boots crunching into the gravel.
“The woods out there. It’s only about fifty acres worth, but it’s dense. Good enough for hide and seek, huh?” Hoodie’s voice sounded a little more chipper than his usual monotonous one, laced with excitement and almost giddy. “We’ll give you ten minutes, put your money where your mouth is. If we can’t find you, we’ll buy you a hotel room for the rest of the trip.” You glared, heart thumping at the idea of finally getting a shower and some heat, fingers fidgeting at your sides. “But, when we catch you, and we will, who knows what we’ll ask for?” Masky shrugged cockily. “Guess we’ll be thinking about it while you’re runnin’.”
The boys pressed forward, shoulder to shoulder as they stared down at you, nauseating smiles making your heartache. You glanced back to the tree line. Crossing your arms, you rolled your eyes, stupidly accepting their bet. You were going to win, you knew you were, but all they could do was smile. “Ten minutes starts now, sweetheart.” Hoodie fiddled with his old-style military wristwatch, wiping the glass as he clicked some buttons to start a timer.
“So I just… start runni-”
“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…” You tensed, taking steps back before spinning on your heels, zipping your jacket up as you began to run, slipping into the trees.
-
When you began to run, that’s when the excitement truly swept in.
The ten minutes had long passed, your feet carrying you deep into an unfamiliar forest where every tree looked the same. But you had to keep going, if for nothing else, then to create distance.
It was getting too dark to see, the sun hanging low on the horizon and dense night setting in. The silhouettes of trees stretched ahead, endless in every direction. There was no trail or path to follow, only the thick underbrush and ferns that whipped at your legs as you ran, branches scratching your skin. You had no clue where you were going.
The rain had begun as well, thick droplets soaking your clothes and face, making your hair cling to your skin. Your legs burned, muscles tensing as you dodged trees, mud clinging to your shoes the further you went, your breath already quickening. When you reached a small clearing, you paused, catching your breath as you searched the shadows, listening intently for any signs of movement. Nothing caught your attention besides the heavy patterns of rainfall, leaves, and branches whipping in the wind as you set off again, catching your pace.
Adrenaline couldn’t differentiate this from real danger. You dealt with these boys every day, watching how they worked and killed, studying their every move. But now that you were on the other side of the fight, there was no clue just how real they were going to make it. You knew they wouldn’t kill you. They were all for bets, but they weren’t sore losers. They might catch you, they might hurt you, but they wouldn’t kill you. And, somehow, that excited you.
There was something so rousing about playing the victim for once. It made you feel vulnerable and small, but oh did it make you desperate.
Climbing over a fallen pine and sliding down the short ridge beyond it, you crouched close to the ground, pressing close to the roots and bushes as you caught your breath again. You had to think one step ahead, had to conserve your energy; any chance for a break was a good one. They wanted a chance, so you’d give them a chase. But you had to be smart too.
Snap.
You froze, slow breaths shaking as the condensation fogged at your mouth. You clenched close to the ground, careful not to move as you heard the thumps of boots more clearly now, a matching pair. You clenched your jaw, bracing your hands against the side of a tree as their voices grew too.
“Come on, little mouse,” Masky called out, the giddiness in his voice making you cringe. “You’re not very good at hiding your tracks.” Shit. The rainfall had roused the ground with mud, your imprints being left everywhere and leading right to where you crouched. You had to move.
Rain and sweat dripped off your nose, teeth clenched as you shook, the cold breeze cutting against your skin. Your pupils blew wide as you scanned the ground, snaking your body up quietly as you took eager steps in the opposite direction of the boys. The mud squelched, your body aching as you pushed off the tree, steadying your pace back into a jog to not make too much noise. You heaved, letting your pace grow the further you got, the small steps turning into a desperate sprint as you whipped through the trees, the wind burning your cheeks raw. You were panting, sucking deep breaths of air, and fighting against the strain in your chest.
“There!” You cursed, Hoodie’s voice ringing through the trees as you sprinted, fists clenched as you dug your feet into the ground. In your attempt to get away, you had done exactly what you wanted to avoid, catching their attention. You heard the sound of their boots taking heavy steps in the distance, far enough but definitely still too close for comfort. Your heart thumped, adrenaline pumping. You tried to look back, to gauge just how far they were, just how fast you needed to run. You couldn’t see when your ankle snapped against a root popped from the ground, flinging your body down.
The ground was damp, mulch and rocks lodged into your knees as you clattered to the dirt, heaving for breath. You didn’t remember which direction you were trying to go, but it didn’t matter as you pushed your aching body up, lunging back into a sprint. Rain and fog blurred your senses, the stout smell of wet earth suffocating you with every labored gasp. You groaned, palms and clothes covered in mud and grass, your chest aching from the abrupt contact. The boys howled with excitement, their chanting and loud laughs making you nervous, and desperate to get away. The worst part, however, was the fact they had now put on their masks.
The three of you had grown comfortable, there was no desire to cover their faces around each other, saving the covers for jobs. But now, the stupid masks were snugged on, concealing their expression and making this situation all the more terrifying. Now, you realize they saw you as a job, a mission to catch and take, no longer just a little game. You wanted to cry, the anger shooting through your veins as you ran, heaving for air and distance, your brain screaming to get away. They were going to catch you.
You were so used to being on the other side. You were the one chasing, the one seizing runaways. But, something about being the one having to get away, the thought of you fighting within an inch of your life against your friends. It got you stirred in the worst kind of way.
You sprinted, half-running half-sliding down the steepening slope, your shoes catching on vines and mud as you went. You had no clue where you were going or why the terrain was suddenly changing, but you continued to press forward, feet flinging out from under you as you sprinted. The slope picked up, rocks and thicker soil breaking under your steps, clattering down the side of the hill you were pressing down, leaning back to claw into the mud as you lost your footing, pummeling down. Your foot caught on a root, hauling your shoe off your foot and snapping your body with it.
You met the clearing at the bottom face-first.
You landed hard, a thick stream of water splashing against your face as you gasped. The air knocked from your lungs, rolling onto your back as the water flowed around you, the tiny stream picking up from the rain. Rocks and moss stuck to your clothes, your teeth grit as your chest ached. You had to get up, you had to keep running.
But the chuckles from above you made you whine, footsteps crunching down the muddy slope as they paced just out of your sight. “Aww, think before you run. Don’t go panicking now.” You could hear the smile in Hoodie’s voice despite your dizziness.
Out of pure adrenaline, you shoved yourself up, looking towards the slope, but finding nothing there. You spun on your heels, surveying the trees and sides of the hill, nothing sticking out. You hissed, looking down towards your hands as dirt sunk into the cuts, your palms torn and bleeding down your wrists, mixing with the rain. Your socks were soaked with mud, your feet aching and pounding with pain as your foot had been welted raw. But you couldn’t find them. For how large and annoying they were, you couldn't find them. You had to keep moving.
Turning away from the slope, you dug your heels in, pushing away from the stream. It was hard to focus, hard to keep your mind from spinning as you clawed, legs burning every step they ran. Your head felt light, too nauseated to notice the flash of yellow in your direction.
A hand seized around your throat from behind, the other gripping into your hair as you cried out. You flung, fighting back against the tight grasp Masky held, kicking your knees. How the hell had he gotten to you? You swung your arms, reaching back to claw at the fists wrapped around you, elbow flying back to make contact with his ribs.
Masky gasped, grunting heavily as how grip loosened, reaching for his side. You slammed back hard, taking the opportunity to shove your shoulders back, knocking the brunette off balance and releasing you. In the process, you took the chance, sprinting away and pressing through the rain, gasping as you heard his yells behind you.
Gripping the side of another steep hill, you clawed at the roots and rocks protruding from the side, launching yourself up the side of the ravine and scrambling up onto flat ground above. Your socked foot caught on a rock, slicing through the fabric and through to your skin too, making you hiss and clench your jaw. Don’t look back, don’t stop, don’t be afraid-
Hoodie grunted as you slammed into him, chest knocking against him so hard you landed flat on your ass. He wasn’t so easy, not allowing you to get back up as the taller man pinned you down. You thrashed wildly, arms and legs flailing as his fists gripped your jacket, raising your chest to slam you back down against the ground, knocking the breath from your lungs. You gasped, tired arms reaching up to claw at his hoodie, tugging the soaked cloth, and trying to reach his skin. Hoodie laughed, his fingers digging into your sides as you groaned, panting your exhaustion. Masky was following behind, grappling up the side of the hill and chuckling his amusement. You were panicking, flailing under the man as you whined.
“Didn’t last very long at all, huh?” Hoodie mocked, pushing your legs out of the way as you tried to kick him, your hands still clawing. The man just pressed harder, reaching up to clench your jaw, angling your head closer to the ground and into the mud. It was disgusting, your pants and whines making him smile as you gripped his hoodie, feeling for anything you could use.
When your fingers brushed his pistol holstered snugly against his side, you strained your jaw, reaching as far as you could. Hoodie was focused, eyes locked onto your face as his fingers clenched around your throat, tightening excruciatingly as you gasped, head already spinning. Your breathing was labored, the intensity of his grasp faltering your reach as you strained, the eagerness in his grasp making you dizzy.
You whined, pressing your shoulder down as you finally wrapped a finger around the end, tugging the weapon out of its holster. Masky was close now too, boots crunching in the mud as your vision blurred, rain and lack of oxygen snaking a darkness into the edges of your sight. You snagged a finger around the cold metal of the gun, hauling it up and bringing it down quickly, slamming against the side of Hoodie’s skull. His groan rang, his grasp on your throat letting free as he hauled back, gripping at the side of his head.
You scrambled up, panting breaths of moist air as you pushed back in the mud, hauling yourself up. Masky tried to press in, your hands were quick to shoot up and aim the pistol, a finger placed steadily on the trigger. The man stopped, mockingly holding his hands up and laughing, angling his head to the side in amusement.
“What? Is the little mouse scared now? What happened to all that big talk earlier?” You cringed, panting loudly as puffs of condensation clouded around your mouth. You were shaking wildly, mud and rain crusted deep into your clothes and skin, soaking you to your core. “I thought this was some game, not a real chase.” You grit your teeth, snarling your desperation through angered words.
Hoodie was up now, looming close to Masky’s side as he watched, an expression showing he was ready to pounce. He wanted more, you could see it in the way his fingers flexed and palmed against his jeans. You shook, keeping the pistol aimed between both of them. You didn’t give them a chance to get to you again. Turning on your heels, you lunged into another sprint, chest, and legs aching at the sudden burst. The boys latched on, not giving a second thought before chasing behind you, desperately trying to match your pace. You were faster than them, but there was no way you would be able to beat them again physically. With a hurt foot and weakened body, they would overpower you in an instant.
Mocking chants and laughs echoed loudly behind you, the rain and wind snapping at your skin. You limped through every step, trying to keep a good pace as the pain began to sink in, mud clinging against your cuts. Your mind was racing, excitement and pent-up energy exerting themselves in every ache and stretch. So many times on missions you were forced into uncomfortable situations, clawing and begging to prove yourself, to show just how useful you were.
But now, you weren’t chasing anymore. You were the one running, the one begging and sobbing to be shown mercy. Masky and Hoodie weren’t capable of mercy, they didn't know the meaning of the word. So now, the role flipped on its head, you were truly aware of just how much you needed to get away.
You swung your arm around as you felt bodies close in, gripping the pistol tight and aiming high as you took a shot. An ear-piercing ricochet rang through the trees. Curses shouted, loud gasps as the bullet whizzed past their heads, and maniacal laughter soon followed. “Shit, Hood! Mouse’s got some bite!” Masky panted, exhausted tone showing as he continued to run. Hoodie growled his approval, grappling off of trees and closing in again. You’d been a fool to think they’d scare so easily. Of course, your violence would just get them more excited.
Clattering across a stretch of gravel and mud, you cursed, the gash in your foot screaming with pain. The limp caused you to be ill-timed, Masky taking the falter and seizing you, your bodies clattering to the nasty ground.
Masky chuckled, your hair knotted in his hand as he forced you onto your chest. Your fingers dug into the mud, desperately trying to push yourself up as you flailed, pistol gripped tight. Limbs burned, lungs gasping for air as you felt a knee press between your shoulder blades before you could move. He crushed you against the gravel harder and harder. Masky pressed down close, dragging your head to the side so he could groan into your ear. Hoodie was already on you too, the sole of his boot crushed atop your hand to pry the pistol away, tossing it a few feet away. Masky’s knee pressed hard, the mask covering his expression, but you could hear his excitement all too well.
“All that running just for us to still catch you, little mouse. I say we deserve some compensation for all that work.” You clenched your teeth, tears welling in your eyes not only from the exhaustion that was creeping in but from the terrible pain shooting through your body. Everything hurt, sleepiness hanging on every limb. They must have noticed as the Hoodie knelt down beside your head.
He caressed his fingers over your skin, marveling at the softness of your cheeks cool with the rain, before nudging your jaw with his fist. “I think I know a pretty good reward, eh?” His hoodie was soaked, the usual mustard color a dark brown as Masky loosened his grip on your hair, tugging your shoulder over as his knee lifted. You tried to gauge their expressions and understand what they were so giddy about as you lay on your back, face, and clothes splattered with mud and rain. “I’d say I have to agree with you there, man.”
As Masky stood, you tried to sit up before large pairs of hands shoved you back to the ground. Your bodies pressed close, Hoodie wedging himself against your side as Masky gripped your arms, pressing them down against the rocks. That’s when you felt it, the heat in his jeans pressed against your hip, your skin exploding with warmth. You tried to look through his mask into his eyes, shimmying your hips as Hoodie did the same, gripping the side of your face to keep your head down. They were overpowering you, binding you down to submit, forcing you to stop. You didn’t want to. They wanted a fight, and you weren’t so willing to lay down and take it.
“Keep moving your hips like that and watch what happens.” Masky barked, snaking a knee between your legs as he pressed close, breathing muffled as he held you. Your body was useless, their arms and hands gripping tight and hauling you close, gasps ringing at every fist tightening. “You’ve lost, alright? Just fuckin’ give up.” Hoodie jerked your jaw, pressing your shoulder to the ground as you kicked your legs, Masky’s knee slid up against your core and held it there even when you squirmed. “Even after all that runnin’ you’ve still got energy? Fuck.” Masky angrily laughed, tugging at your jeans and undoing the buttons, your heart immediately jumping from your chest.
“Masky-” Hoodie clasped a hand over your mouth, tugging your body up against his own as he pressed beside you. Masky let go of your hands, Hoodie quick to take them in one hand, and hold them above your head as the latter worked on shimmying your pants off of your thighs. The rain made you twitch as drops hit your bare skin. “We won, remember? Gonna have to show you just what girls with big egos get, yeah? You could use a little humbling…” The hooded man smiled, snaking a hand around your throat and clamping down, your airway choking closed as you gasped. It felt like a rush, every inch of your body overwhelmed as they gripped at your skin. You were falling apart, fighting and fear leaving your body, anxiousness and excitement slowly creeping in the lower Masky’s hands dipped against your thighs.
“Every inch of you is a tease.” He snapped, your muddy jeans discarded as fingers dug into your skin. The man acted ravenous, fingernails clawing against your damp skin as he nudged himself between your legs, your head swaying lightly as Hoodie pushed his grip on your throat harder. “Been dying to get a good look.”
You couldn’t deny how many times you caught them staring. Every time you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in the creek or laid out in the truck's backseat to get some rest, their eyes lingered, awkward silence hanging in the air. It was obvious now. That same ravenous look was caught behind the eyeholes of their masks, your heart skipping as Masky hooked his fingers into the waistline of your panties. Jerking against Hoodie’s grasp on your wrists, you let your back arch off the ground, panting against the fingers gripped onto your throat as Masky slowly slid the cloth down.
Rain soaked your face as Hoodie took his time sliding a hand up your shirt, palming at your moist skin and dragging your jacket off of your shoulders. “You’ve always had such a loud mouth, y’know that? It’d be nice to see it occupied with other things.” Hoodie chuckled, letting his fist off of your throat to slide up to your lips, your gasps and coughs music to his ears. He was quick to slide two fingers past your teeth, shoving them down to the knuckle and pushing down your tongue. You gagged, head rearing back but his fingers followed, pressing down into your throat with a cough. He let go of your wrists, snaking a fist into your hair as he held his fingers still, your throat constricting around the digits as you reached back to grip his hoodie, tugging him closer. Masky watched close, your warm cunt throbbing as the cold air ran goosebumps across your skin.
“Christ.” Masky hummed, pressing your knees apart as he adjusted himself between them, his cock constricting tight against his jeans. He slid your folds apart with his thumb, swiping the digit through your wetness and spreading it, smiling at the way your hips instinctively jerked. You whined, senses overwhelmed as you choked again, gagging as Hoodie began to pump his fingers. “If you can’t even take my fingers, how are you supposed to take my cock? Do better.” Hoodie was so much more gruff than Masky, barking his command and pushing you further than you knew he could go. The man was always the quieter of the two, his shadow-like demeanor starkly contrasting Masky’s. So when it came to primal instincts, the two flipped like a coin. Masky took a much more silent authoritative stance, while Hoodie was all bark and bite. The two worked perfectly together, you realized, in murder and sex. Perfect contrasts no matter the circumstances.
Your cheeks shot red, your eyes watering the louder you heard him huff. You tried to let your throat relax, you tried to breathe steady. But when you felt a finger screw into your cunt, forcing its way into your hardly prepped warmth, you cried out.
Masky’s nails dug into your thighs, his knees shoving your legs open as he twisted his middle finger, angling to press up against the gumminess of your walls. “So warm, damn…” He grunted, letting his thumb press against your clit and rub aching circles against the nub. Hoodie didn’t give you a moment, however. His fingers were soon tugged from your lips as he snagged your hair back, pushing your cheek against his jeans, face-to-face with his boner. How were you going to take that? You tried to stammer, tried to press your hands on his legs, but he was already undoing his belt. “Hoodie-” You hissed, your sentence cut off as you jerked your hips up when another finger crammed itself into your tight cunt, digits spreading and scissoring you loose. Your eyes shot back and forth, focused on fingers tugging down their zipper but also on the hungry way fingers dug into your folds.
You were overwhelmed, the rain and wind snapping at every naked part of your body and sending chills. And the boys were eating you alive.
“Wait, please- I’m sorry! Ah! I was wrong okay-” Hoodie’s palm was back around your mouth, your pants and whines muffled behind the hand as he tugged his jeans down with his boxers. Your eyes shot wide when he tugged his cock out, shoving his waistband below his balls and giving his length a few good tugs. Masky chuckled, pressing the heel of his palm down onto your clit as he rhythmically curled his fingers up, your cunt soaking them. “If you’re so sorry, then show it, sweetheart.” You gawked at the girth wrapped in Hoodie’s fist, unsure of how you were even supposed to take half of that in your mouth. But take it you would. It didn’t matter if you screamed, bled, or passed out, Hoodie was going to make sure you would melt on it.
You were trembling, as vicious as you were, you were excited. Hoodie and Masky could see it. They had no intention of hurting you, but they had every intention of breaking the little ego you held onto. You held their gaze, rain streaming down your face as you whined. “Open up.” The brunette didn’t give you much of a choice as he pressed his cock to your lips. You gasped around the tip, his hands wrapping into the back of your hair and pressing your head closer. Hoodie groaned as he went deeper, your throat convulsing around him with a barely suppressed gag. You felt like you were losing air, taking a last deep breath before Hoodie stopped, your lips wrapping tight around the middle of his girth.
He held steady, Masky keeping you distracted with his fingers, but you couldn't fight the dizziness in your head. Hoodie drank up the way your eyes slammed shut, the way your hands gripped into his clothes and pawed for release; he couldn’t stand it. Masky couldn’t either.
When you caressed your tongue along the bottom side of his cockhead, Hoodie growled, fisting your hair tight. He snapped your head closer, pushing your throat open around his girth and tugging you back off quickly, snapping his hips back again to set a sickening pace. You choked, slobber pooling around your lips and glistening on his length as he fucked into your throat, giving you no time to breathe. You dug your nails into his hoodie, clawing for something to hold onto as he rattled your head. Every squeeze of your throat just spurred him on, the resistance only making him more eager to fuck you open and raw. “God, you must be real sorry, huh?” Hoodie growled, letting one hand shove up your shirt up and tug your bra off of your tits, gripping onto the mounds.
Masky watched, smiling wildly behind the mask as his cock throbbed against his jeans. Your cunt had soaked his fingers loose enough to slip another in, his free hand shimmying his belt undone and tugging his zipper down. The man took a shaky breath when his cock met the cold air, twitching and eager as he unscrewed his fingers from your cunt, surprised at the way your hips tried to follow them. The loud sound of slobber and gagging on Hoodie’s cock made Masky excited to hear more, pumping his cock in his fist covered with your arousal as he pressed a free hand back to your folds. “Don’t pass out now, little mouse.”
You couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own head roaring, throat tensing and convulsing at every press of Hoodie length into your mouth. He was so rough, so aggressive in his actions, desperately clawing for more as if he had been begging for this for forever. You finally felt like you could get the hang of it, finding a good position for your mouth until-
Smack!
You nearly screamed when you felt a palm slap down on your cunt, snapping against your cunt and sending your hips shooting off of the muddy ground. Masky laughed, his fist jerking his cock as your eyes shot open, trying to pull your head back off of Hoodie’s length. He growled, snapping your head back down onto his cock and shoving your nose into his pubes, snapping at you to stay still.
Masky raised his hand again, your stomach tightening as you watched through tear-beaded eyes when his palm made contact with your clit again. It stung, your throat grunting and sobbing as Hoodie gripped either side of your head in his hands, fucking his hips into your warm mouth. You tried to press your thighs shut, Masky shoving them apart as he slapped again, spanking your cunt and grinning at the squelch. Pained whines muffled around Hoodie’s cock as he rubbed his fingers against your clit before hauling his hand up, smacking back down to watch your hips jerk. You dug your heels into the dirt, trying to press away, but Masky’s hands were already gripped around your hips and tugging you back.
Your head was light, oxygen barely seeping through as Hoodie completely ignored your wails, hips jerking, and balls slapping against the side of your face the deeper you drank his cock down. “So good…” He muttered, gasping as he hunched over your head, driving his hips at an exhausting pace. Your jaw hurt, eyes raw with tears as you lulled your tongue against the underside of his length to desperately hurry his orgasm along.
Your mouth was so full, so warm and tight, and took the brunette the best you could. Hoodie whined when he felt his balls tighten and abdomen tense, ecstasy shooting through his body as he throbbed in your mouth and spilled down your throat. You clung to his hoodie, unable to swallow as quickly as he pumped into you, cum and slobber dribbling down your chin. You gasped as you felt the intrusion leave your mouth, desperately trying to catch your breath as seed dripped down your chin. Masky didn’t give you time, barely able to swallow before you felt a tension pushing into your cunt.
“I think you still owe me an apology, right?” The man between your legs chuckled, pushing your hips down to the soaked ground as he slowly sunk in, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. Hoodie was panting, wringing the last of his orgasm from his cock as he hauled your head up, craning your neck to face him. He shoved his mask up, the fabric bunching at his brow as his flushed cheeks glistened with sweat. You whined as you felt Masky’s cock press deeper, your walls throbbing around him as Hoodie caught your lips, breathing deep as he panted into your mouth.
“Mmn, fuck-” Masky chirped, raising your ass off the ground as he pressed against your tightness, sinking into your gooey warmth. Hoodie ravaged, gripping your jacket and shaking it off your arms, fingers tugging at your shirt until you could hear the seams popping and snapping. Masky bottomed out, you gasp giving Hoodie enough access to shove his tongue past your lips and suck on your own. Groans and whines swapped, Masky watched, stomach twirling with arousal.
He slowly tugged his hips back, your thighs trembling as you peeked out, groaning when you watched Masky slide his own mask off of his face, the object clattering into the mud. His hips didn’t get far before they snapped back, nails tugging your hips back to meet with a stifled moan. Hoodie shuffled behind you, adjusting himself to your back pressed against his chest as Masky started his drowsy pace into your puffy cunt. You whimpered with every inch, panting desperately. Your pussy gripped him tightly as Masky pressed all the way inside—before withdrawing completely and plunging back in again. You screamed, the sound choked with frantic need as Hoodie replaced his lips with his fingers again. Masky pulled your hips back, fucking mindlessly until your knees tightened around his sides. He snaked a hand between your legs and rubbed your clit, grinning as you shook from head to toe and went limp against Hoodie’s chest, the pleasure shattering you.
“Too much, little mouse?" You managed to shake your head, defiant little thing. Masky snapped his hips again, pace slowly and sickeningly increasing, thrusts getting harder but not faster. You mewled, sucking on Hoodie’s digits as he played with your nipples, massaging your tits with every heave of your chest. “Don’t get needy now, sweetheart,” Hoodie noted the way your hips craned to meet Masky’s every move, stomach tightening to get a better grip around his cock. You groaned, flexing your hands as they both laughed at your desperation. You were irritated. They wanted badly to ruin you, to make you theirs. But when it finally comes time for you to enjoy their part, they won’t let you. You felt yourself snap as you hauled your bodies forward.
Masky grunted as you shoved your hands against his chest, kicking your feet free from his hands and slamming the big guy on his back. Hoodie was quick to follow, stunned at the sudden movement but sure to find his place snagged onto your back as you straddled Masky again.
“You’re a fucking prick.” You groaned, pressing your nails into his face as your knees dug into the rocky mud-caked ground. You all were nasty, sweat and rain dripping from your brows but you were so horny it didn’t matter.
Masky pressed back, tugging at your wrists to let off of his face. It was only when he shoved your jaw back did you saw the gleam of metal in the rain, the dark pistol smeared with mud but close enough to grasp. You pressed forward, shoving Masky’s forehead down as he snapped, Hoodie gripping your hips to drag you back.
You tried to claw, to reach the gun, but the boys were stronger. “Little cunt. You never learn, huh?” Masky barked, gripping his cock tight as Hoodie angled your hips to sink back onto the length. You choked out when they slammed your hips together, Masky setting a brutal pace up into your cunt as Hoodie pressed you down, jerking his own growing cock now.
“I don’t know where you- ah- where you get this attitude from,” Masky growled into your ear, your chest pressing down against his as he quickly tugged his cock in and out of your drenched warmth. You whined through every echoed slap, the rain, and sweat making you both slippery, and every thrust of his hips reverberating off the density of the trees. You reached out, stretching your shoulder as far as it would go to reach the pistol just at your fingertips. You groaned, pressing your sore hands into the mud for one final stretch, your index brushing the metal and tugging it in your direction.
“Fuck you.” You growled out, tugging the gun into your hand and turning to aim it at the side of Masky’s temple. You wanted a reaction, for his pace to hesitate or his eyes to stutter, but they never did. He just kept tugging your hips down, mercilessly shoving the air from your lungs with every press of his cock against your sore walls. Your noses brushed as you stared deep into the other’s eyes, a silent challenge. If anything, he went faster.
Hoodie chuckled behind you, letting his cock slide between your ass cheeks every time they bounced in Masky’s cock. He was grunting, pressing your lower back down to get a better arch out of you. “Cute.” He smiled.
Masky glanced, acknowledging the weapon pressed so aggressively against the side of his head, but keeping his attention on you. You wanted to yell, to tug the trigger just enough to watch fear creep in, but your thoughts got abruptly lost.
Masky let your hips go, tugging a fist into your hair as he slammed your lips together. You grunted into the kiss, anger fuming between the two of you and tearing your resilience apart. The kiss was aggressive, teeth snagging on lips and tongues shoving against cheeks as Hoodie took his chance to rest his hands on your hips. “Shit.”
Hoodie tugged his cock back, your hips riding Masky on their own and setting your own pace, cunt gushing and squelching at every move. You hadn’t even cum yet, and the desperation was getting to you.
“Stick your tongue out.” Hoodie reached between you two, cutting your kiss short as he selfishly shoved two fingers into your mouth, Masky growling at the loss. The brunette just laughed, a cheeky grin flashing as he tugged his fingers back, swiping them between your asscheeks.
You hissed, hips stuttering their pace as you felt Hoodie press his index finger against your asshole, swirling the muscle eagerly. “Hoodie.” You grit, craning your neck to look back at him, Masky letting his hand fall to your upper thighs. The brunette smiled, slowly nudging his index finger through the tight ring and making you sit up straight. Masky growled, reaching up to wrap his arm around you, tugging your shoulders back down, your neck in a headlock against his chest.
He slowly began to thrust his hips up again, achingly slow to distract from the feeling of Hoodie stretching your asshole. You wanted to growl, to fight back, but your eyes just rolled. Masky smiled as he watched the pistol slowly slip from your grasp, clattering back against the gravel as he fucked lazily up into your cunt, the warmth a lot more gooey than before. You could feel your abdomen flutter, clit brushing against Masky and sending your thighs tensing. “Please…" you moaned. "Coming… make me come…”
Hoodie craned his index, stretching the rim of your asshole and jerking your ass apart. Masky’s breath startled, resilience cracking as you came on his cock, cunt tightening and throbbing around his length. You convulsed, breath hitching as they brought you to your peak, shuddering violently in Masky’s arms. He couldn’t take it, he had to pull out.
You moaned out, whining when Masky slipped from your cunt and groaned loud, regaining his composure. Hoodie still worked your ass, the sting and stretch were painful but strangely so addicting. He let a second finger tease the rim, your hips sensitively jerking against the feeling as another finger slowly sunk into your ass. Your cunt clenched on nothing, tensing through your orgasm before Masky realigned himself, squeezing his cock back in. He could’ve come from how warm and gummy your walls were after cumming.
“You ready for both, mouse?” You felt dizzy, head straining as Masky kept a hold on your neck, locking you down against his chest. You tried to nod, mumbling your eagerness as Hoodie successfully pressed another finger past your rim, your whine making them grin. The brunette gave you a few good tugs before pulling his fingers out, stroking his length as he pressed the tip to your rim. You groaned against Masky’s chest, biting into the cloth of his shirt as he thrust his hips, trying to give you a good duality as Hoodie slowly pressed in.
It stung, the stretch and fullness making your fingers grip into anything you could get, nails indenting into Masky’s sides. Hoodie cursed, fingers digging into the mounds of your ass and tugging them apart, trying his best to sink in through the constraint. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re tight as hell- shit-” You sobbed through the tension, trying your best to relax as both of your holes slowly filled, your abdomen swirling with waves of arousal. You felt dizzy, panting in Masky’s scent as Hoodie finally snapped in the rest of the way, the stretch making tears spill down your cheeks.
“Fu… Fuck me…” You choked out, craning your hips just enough to make Hoodie whine, nails cutting into your hips. The boys got the hint, Masky slowing down his pace to match Hoodie’s stuttered one, the brunette fighting against the constraint of your ass while he bluntly thrust. You moaned anyways, Masky’s cock snagging your g-spot and ramming there, his grin telling. He couldn’t resist leaning forward to steal a kiss again, biting into your plump lips.
Hoodie couldn’t get over your mouth, however. He needed to be in that warmth again. So, he leaned forward, pressing his fingers against the side of your cheek and pressing them into the corner of your mouth, Masky tensing at the foreign taste. He looked like he was going to say something, but you shut him up with a plop of your hips, raising your ass up to fuck against Hoodie’s cock and ride right back down onto Masky’s. “Be nice.” You gasped as Hoodie curled his finger into the side of your cheek, tugging the skin back to make drool pool against your lips. Masky growled, rolling his eyes before snagging your lips again, loud groans and hisses panted into the other’s mouth. You felt so full, holes stuffed so nauseatingly well you could feel the way their cocks brushed together inside of you.
You could feel it again, the way your gut clenched. Masky clenched your thighs, his cock aching inside of you as Hoodie snapped his hips, riding close to the edge again. You tried your best to angle your hips back, giving them both the best angle to tug their cocks in and out. “‘M coming- Fuck! Please, please, please…” You panted through every snap of their hips, their cocks squeezing and stretching your holes so wide you knew you were ruined for anyone else. Your head was so tired, cunt throbbing and aching for release the harder they went, chasing their own.
“Pull out, Hoodie…” Masky choked, getting the last few thrusts he could as he felt you tightening, his cock teetering dangerously close to the edge. Hoodie whined, the tip of his cock popping in and out past your rim and dragging him closer too, both of the boys a whining grunting mess with you sandwiched between them. “Ma- Masky… Hoodie…”
Both of your holes clenched down as you came, the intensity of your orgasm washing over you so strongly that your eyes lulled to the back of your head. Your stomach twisted, the knot unraveling as you released on their cocks. Masky moaned lowly, biting into his lip as he forced his cock out of your swelled cunt, ropes of cum dripping from his tip as he stole your lips. Hoodie followed quickly, pushing your ass off of his cock as he started fisting his length quickly, pumping tight at the base to shoot his seed across your back. He whined through his orgasm, smearing his cum across your ass and lazily smiling at his work.
You all panted, shoulders slumped and bodies sore. You felt like you couldn’t move, every muscle inside and out aching from the exertion you had gone through.
Rain still poured, the chill seeping into your bones as you shook, water and sweat dripping from your nose. You felt so spent, cunt and ass ruined and throbbing wildly as you let your head go limp on Masky’s chest, the man grunting underneath you. “Fuck…alright, mouse.”
You were far too sleepy to care much as they shoved their limp cocks back into their jeans, everyone’s clothes soaked and cold as Hoodie wrapped his arms under your limbs, hauling you up. “C’mon, sweetheart…” Even they sounded tired.
-
You slipped in and out of sleep on the way back to the truck, Masky collecting your items as they went and tossing everything into the bed as the engine roared. Hoodie laid you in the backseat, climbing into the passenger as Masky peeled back towards the interstate. You were too tired to ask where you were going.
You only stirred back when the obnoxious luminescent lights showed into the truck window, blinding you. You squinted, tossing your hand in front of the light as you sat up, the backseat suddenly opening.
“Don’t make me regret buyin’ this,” Masky growled as he tossed a blanket towards you, you just now realizing how nasty with mud you all were. You smiled as Hoodie helped you out, shuffling you close to his side as the boys dragged you around to the shabby door of the motel they had found. You flinched as you remembered your foot, the crusted blood and mud staining the underside of your sock as you limped through the rusty door.
It wasn’t anything nice, definitely not five stars.
But as you three tugged off your clothes and cleaned as much of the mud off as possible, it didn’t matter. The boys cringed at your cuts, mumbling their apologies and helping you clean them up, too. Exhausted, the three of you crawled into the way-too-small bed, the boys on either side of you as they cradled in, sticky and sore body parts finding their comfortable spaces.
It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was better than sleeping in the back of the truck. You smiled when their breathing labored, faces cradled into your shoulders while you slowly blinked your sleepiness away. You didn’t want to acknowledge what this night might mean for the future, at least not tonight. You’d much rather sleep.
But as Masky and Hoodie slid their arms around your torso, legs interlocking as you all finally relaxed, maybe it didn’t seem so bad anymore.
You’d have to learn to watch your tongue, though. For your sake.
This was an anonymous request!
Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹
Thank you to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!
Summary: Hiking to capture the perfect sunrise photo for your portfolio, you stumble upon a supposedly abandoned cabin, your curiosity driving you to investigate. When you're met with two very large and very aggressive masked men, they decide that they'll put you to good use.
You would do anything for a good shot. Trespassing included.
Working on your portfolio for school was proving to be more physically demanding than you anticipated, but if it meant you got in on a good scholarship, you were willing to break a few laws.
Your heart raced as you pushed down the barbed wire fence and swung a leg over. These woods were off-limits as deemed by the state, but you knew of a beautiful mountainscape that would make for a perfect sunrise picture. And, considering how your portfolio was currently looking, you needed this shot. Glancing at the “Private Property, Do Not Enter” sign one last time, you swung your other leg over and pulled your backpack back onto your shoulders.
You filled your large pack with enough stuff to last you a day. A sleeping bag, a one-person tent, a fire starter, and all the other junk you could think of. It was late afternoon now, and you planned on setting up camp closer to the lookout and hiking the rest before sunrise. It would be a couple of miles, but you were willing and excited. Photography was your life and passion, and you planned on following it through no matter the challenge (or legality).
Pushing away from the barbed fence, you trekked through the dense forest, with no clear path in sight. You pulled out your phone and found your map, searching for an easier way to the scenic lookout, but finding no angle except the one you were taking now. You groaned, shoving your phone back in your back and continuing on. It wasn’t all that bad though. The weather was warm, a breeze blowing through the dense trees and cooling you off. The late summer afternoon had animals and bugs buzzing, creating a nice scenery to walk through. You wouldn’t only get a good picture, but a nice hike in as well.
But as the day passed and the sun stooped lower into the horizon, the woods were becoming less and less inviting. The animals had gone quiet now, with no chirping or singing of birds in the trees. The only noise was the low humming of insects in the grass, an ominous feeling creeping on you the darker it got. You knew it was only your mind tricking you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. Only about two miles out from the lookout now, and this felt like a good place to set up camp.
Hurriedly, you unpacked your bag, popped up your tent, and rolled your sleeping bag out. The sky was dark with the colors of the sunset, but it provided just enough illumination to gather fallen branches and make a small fire stack. You crouched down, tossing some brush and leaves into the pile and striking the fire starter, creating a spark that flamed into a small fire. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to heat your bowl of food and provide you warmth against the cooler night air. Still so strangely quiet, the forest was dark, unable to see past the glow of your fire. You tried not to psych yourself out, but you gripped your pocket knife close, fiddling with the blade anxiously. You knew there were no people out here. At least none besides brave teenagers who dared each other to throw parties out here. Your main concern was a bobcat or some wild animal running up on you, but you thought scaring anything off wouldn’t be too difficult.
You breathed deep, trying to calm your nerves against your racing mind. Deciding you were tired enough, you zipped open the small tent and wrapped it up in your sleeping bag, closing the tent back and nestling it. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and grasshoppers in the grass, but your brain was still on high alert, listening closely. But when nothing came, your eyes eventually fluttered close and you slipped into sleep.
-
Morning eventually came, and you were pleasantly surprised with how little you stirred during the night. Unzipping the tent, the cool morning air rolled in, pulling you awake. The forest was covered in a dense wave of fog, the sun still low on the horizon and just barely peeking up against the horizon. Jumping up, you quickly packed your things and shuffled your backpack on. But when you went to stomp out your smoldering fire, something in the dirt nearby caught your attention. Peering closer, your heart sunk, fear rising in your throat. In the damp dirt, a very large bootprint was sunk into the ground. As you looked, you found more following closer to your tent. You began to silently panic, swinging your head around to look through the trees, but sighing when you saw nothing. Your heart still raced with the knowledge that someone had been walking around near your camp making you sick.
Stomping out the rest of the fire, you scurried away back onto your path, walking a little faster than you were before. As you walked, you tried to convince yourself that maybe you were tricking yourself. Maybe it was your boot print that you accidentally left, or someone that had hiked there before and it was just their leftover tailmarks. But you knew that boot was easily four sizes bigger than your own, and that boot print looked way too fresh. Shivering, you continued your trek but kept a close eye out, jumping at any slight movements.
Eventually, you crept up the mountainside, breathing heavily as you raced against the sunrise to the rocky overlook. The fog had settled, a thin haze of mist against the grass all that remained. Gripping onto trees, you pushed up the hill, the lookout coming into view. You sighed heavily, tugging yourself up the rocks and eventually reaching the top, breathing heavily. But as you caught your breath, you tossed your backpack off and rummaged through for your camera and the stand. The sun was just barely peeking up, offering a nice pink haze across the entire scene. Your excitement bubbled as you found your supplies and began to set up at the edge of the rocks.
High up on the mountain, you could see the stretch of the forest, the trees looking even more dense from up high. It was stunning as the sun reflected off of the morning dew. The mountain range in the distance complemented the horizon beautifully, the sun shining right between the peaks. Clasping your camera onto the tripod, you turned it on and angled it, catching the expanse of the forest in the lens. You smiled wide, snapping dozens of pictures before repositioning and capturing more. You would go through them all later, editing and angling them just perfect for your portfolio. This scene just screams adventure, solitude, and daring. It was perfect.
As you finished taking pictures, you noticed a gap in the treeline further up the mountain, another great angle of the mountain range. Grabbing your stuff, you hauled further up, clicking through the photos you had already taken as you walked. These were exactly what you needed, but you wouldn’t mind snapping a few more from a different angle just in case.
Pushing through the brush of the mountain, you finally reached the higher peak, already throwing your stuff down to set up again. But as you set your tripod up, something in the trees caught the corner of your eye. Turning, you could barely make out the cabin hidden amongst the large trees. Peeking, your brows knitted, unsure of why there was a cabin out here in the first place. Turning back, you quickly snapped a few pictures before packing your stuff back up, the sun well above the mountains now.
Pushing deeper into the trees, you studied the cabin, the small lodge otherwise invisible from outside the forest. The thick leaves and foliage disguised it, making it all the more ominous. Maybe it was a hunting cabin used during the winter or some old abandoned home before the state closed this forest off. You knew you should’ve been more cautious, but as the sun peeked through the trees and cast a warm glow against the dark wood, all you could think of was how good it would look in a photo.
Pressing closer, you hugged against the trees, trying to see the best angle for a picture. The cabin was older, with weathering and vines decorating the exterior. But it was charming, in a creepy kind of way. As you rounded to the side of the cabin only a couple of yards away, you lifted your camera and shot a couple of pictures, admiring the mist radiating around the lodge in the early sunlight. You trudged around to the back, lifting your camera again but stopping quickly. At first, you thought it was just the sunlight shining through one of the windows. But as you looked closer, you could see a small lamp turned on inside of the dusty window.
Your heart stopped, a cold shiver shooting up your spine. There was no way someone was out here. Especially not inside that decrepit old thing. You knew you should’ve high-tailed it out of there, packing up your stuff and shooting back down the mountain. But you being your daring self, you pressed closer to the small porch of the cabin, trying your best to peek inside the fogged window. When you eventually got so close your feet knocked the steps of the porch, you stepped up, sliding to the window.
Cobwebs decorated the porch, and large vines and patches of weathering surrounded the wooden door. You couldn’t see very well through the window, but as you crouched against the cabin and peered inside, you were shocked to see nothing. There were no signs of life inside besides the small lamp, somehow powered on in the middle of nowhere. How it was getting electricity, you were too dumb to figure out.
You stood slowly, trying your best to see further than the lamp through the fogginess of the glass. Maybe it was just left on accidentally? You hoped so. But who would come all the way out here? After deducing that the place truly was abandoned, you set your bag on the porch and lifted your camera. Even though scary, the closeness would make for a good picture. Angling, you captured the lamp framed by the foggy window. However, when the flash of the camera went off, a sudden thud echoed inside the lodge. Your heart dropped, white fear shooting through as you backed against the railing of the porch. Shit. Shit. Shit. The sudden loud thuds of boots sounded inside, your body scrambling quickly to grab your bag and run, but it was already too late.
The door slammed open in your face, knocking you back on your ass down the steps and onto the grass below. You didn’t even look up, turning quickly to dig your feet into the ground and sprint. You held your camera close to your chest, panting heavily as you dodged through the trees. You had no idea who was in that cabin, but you weren't going to stick around and find out. If they were crazy enough to live out here then they were crazy enough to hurt you, and fuck that. Nudging through the brush, you pressed through the trees, heaving desperately for air as your legs burned with fear. As soon as you felt like you had gained a good distance away, it all ended. You felt your head stop before the rest of your body, your limbs shooting forward before you were slammed down to the ground with a loud thud. Your head pounded, a large hand pressing your face down into the ground and giving you a terrible impact headache. You’d be lucky if you didn’t have bruises from how hard your body stopped.
Groaning sharply, you squinted your eyes, your vision partially blinded by the thick fingers pressing down against your face. Your body panicked, writing under the weight as the body on top of you pressed down harder, restricting your movements. You wanted to scream, but your head was pounding too hard to speak, let alone scream. Clawing at the hand on your face, you whined, desperate to move as fear ran through you.
“Quit fighting.” A gruff voice groaned in front of your face, pressing your head down harder into the grass. You tried to see him, your head pressed to the side so all you saw was the dirt and grass beneath you. Until you heard those boots thudding beside your head again, echoing against the forest floor. When they came into your vision, you panicked, the thick black soles blocking your vision. The figure knelt, the other person holding you down angling your head up to get a clear shot of the man crouching beside your head. “Well, hello.” This voice was lighter, scratchier than the other but not as rough. They were both men though, and large enough to hold you down.
The man in front of you was odd, something straight out of a movie. He wore a white mask decorated with a face, little holes cut in the eyes so you could see his dark eyes. He glared at you, his brown hair messed in front of his face. You were caught in confusion, your eyes flicking quickly against him as you tried to gather as much about his appearance as you could. The other man gripped your face tight, angling you to look at the sky as the two of them talked.
“She’s a fast little fucker.” The lower voice growled, nails digging into your cheeks as you began to struggle again. “Hold her steady, don’t let her wiggle out.” The other one commanded, standing and shuffling away. You finally caught sight of the other one, a mustard hoodie pulled over his head, a dark ski mask painted with a red frowning face. Who the hell were these two? They looked like some emo band wannabes and it seriously was beginning to scare you. What in the world were they doing in the middle of nowhere dressed like that? The one with the hoodie was staring right at you, his face covered but his eyes roaming your body. “What the hell are you doing out here anyways?” He gruffed, snapping your camera out of your hands. You gasped, reaching for it but him holding it above your reach.
“I was- ah- taking pictures. Of the sunset. I- I’m a photographer.” You huffed, tears pricking at your eyes as he remained unamused. He ignored your response, looking to the other one who was now dragging your bag towards you two. Zipping your backpack open, they rummaged through your belongings, throwing your supplies out onto the ground carelessly.
“Damn, so she was the camper out last night.” The lighter voice rang, tossing your sleeping bag onto the ground. Your heart sunk, tears finally spilling over your cheeks. So someone had come to your campsite last night. This was getting worse by the minute.
“Shoulda just killed her then like I said.” The darker voice growled, throwing your extra pair of socks down too. You sobbed into his hand, your hands clawing against his hand as he refused to let up. The one in the white mask crouched again, staring you directly in the eyes. “Knock her out, bring her back to the cabin.”
The last thing you saw before you blacked out was the hilt of a gun slamming down against your head, a sharp pain rining before everything went dark.
-
You had no clue how much time had passed when you awoke, but the sun was low in the sky, the colors of the sunset already spilling against the horizon through the window. The inside of the cabin was warm, a low fire crackling in the fireplace across from you. You glanced around, the inside was just as shabby as the outside, but the furniture inside wasn’t half bad considering you were tied to a table chair. Thick ropes wrapped around your torso, securing you against the back of the chair as you struggled. Your head pounded, a sharp throbbing echoing from the spot the gun made contact with your head. When you fully came to, you heard the loud ring of arguing from somewhere down the hallway, the small cabin doing little to conceal their words.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Masky, that on our only fucking week off some bitch decides to get curious.” The one in the hoodie, you recognized his voice. There was loud stomping, one following the other as they came closer down the hallway. “I say we just kill her, Hoodie, but you always need to interrogate the little shits.” The masked one growled back, the both of them coming into view through your hazy vision. They both glared at you, closing the distance between you as you struggled against your restraints. You could barely breathe as they hovered over you, their intimidating presence making it hard to stay calm. “Ple- Please. I just, ah, got lost. Please.” You gritted, pressing your feet against the floor and pulling against the ropes, but they didn’t budge. Respectively, Masky and Hoodie, their names fitting, leaned closer, basically ignoring that you had even said anything.
Masky slid away, grabbing your camera off the dining table and sliding it to Hoodie who turned it on. They flicked through the photos, you awkwardly staring as they studied each photo. “Seems like she was just taking photos,” Hoodie grumbled, handing the camera back to Masky as he glared back to you. “Ain’t half bad either.” You flicked your eyes hurriedly between the two, anxiety growing in your stomach as they silently examined your camera and you. There was no reading these guys, their every emotion concealed behind their stupid masks. Were they going to kill you? Over taking some pictures too close to their shitty cabin? What a way to die.
Masky tossed the camera down, you cringing as it scooted onto the table. “Looks like she wasn’t lying. Lucky you.” He grinned slyly, leaning against the table. They both had this bad habit of just looking at you and not speaking like they were communicating in their minds. It seriously freaked you out as you again tried to tug against your restraints. “Just let me go and I swear I won’t tell nobody. I- I’m just tryna take some photos.” You whined, shriveling in on yourself when they pressed closer again. They stood tall, looming above you and just stared. It was impossible not to just squirm under them, their eyes studying every inch of you. Their weird dynamic made you unsure, their personalities so different but complimenting each other perfectly.
Defeated, you hung your head, your head hurting too bad to plead anymore. But when you looked down, you noticed what they were looking at. Your face blushed, eyes widening as you shot your head back up at them. Your shirt was torn to pieces, your bra doing little to hide your tits through the shredded fabric. It must have happened when you were slammed to the ground, the thick underbrush tearing at your clothes before they dragged you back to the cabin. Your cheeks went dark, embarrassment creeping as you tried to hide yourself, but the ropes under your tits pushed them up further. When they noticed your embarrassment, you could hear them chuckle. “Embarrassed, huh? Sorry, Hoodie here isn’t very good about being polite while chasing someone.” He laughed, pressing close to your left, his gaze fitting on your tits. You squeezed your knees together, your stomach tight with embarrassment as Masky stared at you through the mask.
“Yeah, not very sorry if it meant I got a view like this,” Hoodie grunted, shoving Masky’s shoulder as he pressed closer to your right, leaning his masked face down closer to yours. You glanced quickly between the two of them, unsure of what to do as you felt trapped between two wild animals. Anger ragged at you, your face growing hot. These creepy freaks were perverts too, great. You thrashed against the ropes, kicking your feet forward but Masky held your knees easily. Hoodie gripped your jaw in return, angling your face to look at him as they held you still. “But I’m still not opposed to shooting you.” Masky huffed, digging his nails into your skin. Hoodie laughed, turning your head in his hand to get a better look at you. You struggled slightly, pressing your face against his hand in retaliation. “Feisty.” He smiled. Hoodie’s playful provocations and Masky’s intense gaze made you acutely aware of the charged energy between the three of you.
Masky gripped your knees tight, pushing them down against the chair and sliding his hands to your crotch. He tried to rub his hand against your clothed cunt, but you resisted, wriggling your hips down against the chair. “Don’t be all bratty now. I’m sure Hoodie would love to break that little attitude.” Masky huffed, gripping your legs apart. You whined, Hoodie’s answering grip against your cheeks. You glanced between them, shutting your eyes before sighing. “If I let you… whatever. Are you still gonna kill me afterwards?” You whined, struggling against the ropes one final time. The men glanced between each other, then back to you.”Depends on how good you take us. We’re trying to enjoy our week off of work but you had to just run up on us, huh? You gotta earn your way out of this one.” Hoodie barked, fiddling with the zipper of his jeans when you noticed the slight bulge prodding through. Your cheeks grew dark again, your eyes shutting as you gritted your teeth. “Not my fault you’re squatting in the middle of nowhere.” The hooded man gripped your face tighter, tugging his pants down and letting his large cock spring free, the thick length bobbing in front of your head eagerly. “Then maybe don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Giving the length a few good pumps, he pressed his cock head against your mouth, tapping it against your lips before pulling your jaw down. You glared up at him before sliding your tongue out, flattening against the head. Hoodie’s playful dominance contrasted with Masky’s more forceful desire, their eagerness coaxing you.
Hoodie grunted, holding your jaw open as he pressed the rest of his length in, your jaw unhinging to fit the sheer thickness of him. Your eyes slammed shut, throat constricting around him as you strangled to breathe. He huffed above you, fist tugging at your jaw as he forced you to begin bobbing on the length. You strained, tongue pressing against him as he fucked into your mouth haphazardly. This was rough, but his tight grunts and moans made your stomach flutter. Masky was quick to wrap his fist around your hair, gripping it tight and tugging your head in time with Hoodie’s thrusts.
It was becoming difficult to breathe as Masky slid his free hand down in between your thighs and began to unzip your jeans, pressing his hand down underneath. His fingers found your clothed clit easily, rubbing harshly against the bud and waking it up. You grunted hard around Hoodie’s cock, breath catching and ragged as he refused to let up. His large hands were rough on your jaw, forcing it to stay open as his hips thrust into your throat. It was like Masky could read his movements, pulling your hair back or pushing your head forward to match his hips, making Hoodie grunt and moan loudly above you.
Tears pricked your eyes, the need to breathe becoming desperate, but you knew they didn’t care. Masky hands had abandoned your panties and were now under them, rubbing against your bare clit and making your hips jerk. “Ah- Damn. Bitch’s got a damn good mouth.” Hoodie growled, gritting his teeth. Masky just chuckled, sliding his thick fingers down your folds and pressing against your entrance, your stomach fluttering when he pressed the digits inside. You moaned loudly, slobber drooling out the corners of your mouth as Hoodie nestled his cock inside your mouth and refused to move. Your body strained against the ropes, hands gripping the chair as you begged for air, eyes wide and pleading with tears. Hoodie laughed, hands holding your head still and keeping you suffocating on him. Masky was gripping your hair in return, prodding his fingers deep inside of you and watching closely as you choked.
“Come on now, don’t make the poor thing pass out.” Masky cooed, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gag hard, body straining to moan around the cock. Your head was light, the lack of air getting to you as you choked, eyes growing heavy. Hoodie huffed before he popped out of your mouth, a thick string of slobber still connecting his head to your lips. Pressing your cheeks together, the hooded man chuckled, slapping his glistening cock against your swollen lips. “Nah, she’d be too boring knocked out. I like to watch her submit.” He growled, fisting his length.
You moaned sharply, eyes closing as Masky continued to curl his fingers, drawing noises from your mouth. He slid them out, his fingers glistening with your arousal, holding them up. He let go of your hair, his hand tugging down his zipper and freeing his strained cock. It wasn’t much bigger than Hoodie’s, but your raw throat didn’t make you thrilled to have two large cocks in your face. Hoodie gripped Masky’s wrist, pulling his hand to his mouth as he slid his mask up, barely revealing his mouth. Taking the soaked fingers in his lips, he swirled his tongue around them, reveling in the taste. Masky watched carefully, cock twitching in front of your face until Hoodie popped the fingers out of his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Yum.” He growled, kneeling between your legs and shoving your knees open. As he shoved your jeans down and off your legs, Masky was quick to grip your cheeks and slide the head of his cock into your mouth. However, unlike Hoodie, his hands let go, placing them on his hips as he watched you. “Well?” He grunted, your questioning look evident as your lips stayed wrapped around the head.
Hoodie was pressing your folds apart, his mask still hooked above his nose as do dove in, licking a thick stripe between them. You grunted, flinching as he lapped at your arousal. Masky still watched impatiently, eyes baring into your face. “Told you you were gonna have to work for it. Either get to sucking or I put a bullet there instead.” He grunted, tilting his head.
You furrowed your brows, your anger pooling but soon interrupted by Hoodie’s tongue breaching your entrance and curling. “Fuck you.” Reluctantly, you began to bob your head, chest straining against the ropes to suck as far down as you could. Masky was cocky, a smug expression in his eyes as he watched you slide down as far as you could before choking and retreating. You slipped your tongue around his head, lapping at the precum that pooled out. The tongue in your cunt made it hard to focus, little whines and moans vibrating on the cock in your mouth as your pleasure grew.
This was all kinds of insane, but your resolve was slowly breaking the further Hoodie’s tongue lapped up into your cunt. You huffed, sucking hard against the head of Masky’s cock and trying your best not to gag. He watched, unamused, very different from the grunts and gasps that Hoodie sported earlier. “You can either gag on it, or I’ll make you. I won’t be as nice as my friend though.” He snarled, smacking you on the face lightly, leaving a little red mark. You huffed, Hoodie still eagerly eating you out, groaning as he fisted his cock between his legs. Reluctantly, you unhinged your sore jaw, your throat pleading not to as you pushed further, throat constricting as his head pushed through. Gagging, your eyes slammed shut, gripping the chair beneath you. Only then did Masky’s face contort, little grunts and huffs of air muffled behind his mask. His nails dug into his hips, shallowly thrusting without showing too much desperation.
Your cunt was growing strained, Hoodie’s tongue poking and prodding and dragging you closer to your orgasm. Your back arched, choking on Masky’s cock as your orgasm rocked you, your hips desperately stuttering against Hoodie’s tongue. Your walls constricted, Masky shoving his cock deeper as you heard him grunting, warm seed shooting into your throat. It caught you off guard, but as your eyes rolled and cunt throbbed, you mindlessly swallowed the liquid.
Hoodie pulled his tongue out of your cunt, standing quickly as he pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans. You panicked, fear contorting your face before realizing he was cutting your ropes off, them falling to the floor. “You’re gonna cum on my cock next, sweetheart,” Hoodie growled, gripping your arms and pulling you, hauling you to the couch behind you. You were still panting heavily as he sat on the couch, hauling you onto his lap and straddling his legs. Masky was quick to follow, his ragged pants behind you as he stood behind your back, pressing his chest against your shoulder blades.
Trapped, Hoodie gripped your hips, cock throbbing under you as he angled himself, nudging his head against your clit. You flinched, sensitivity running through you as Masky ran his hands against your ass, gripping tightly and pulling them apart. Reaching around, he forced his fingers into your mouth, your tongue running over the thick digits. Hoodie gripped your hips down, pressing your entrance open with his thick cock, straining against your sensitive walls. You whined, stretching sharply as he pressed inside, moans stifled by the fingers in your mouth. Pulling back, Masky rubbed his wet fingers against your puckered asshole, your spine instantly straightening as you realized what he was doing.
“Oh, don’t get scared now,” He smiled, sliding the digits against your hole. You gripped Hoodie’s shoulders as he pressed inside, your cunt throbbing as he bottomed out, moaning sharply. At the same time, Masky pressed his middle finger inside of your asshole, a sharp sting ringing through your body. Hoodie pulled your hips up, thrusting you up and down against his length, your hands gripping tight on his shoulders. Masky curled his finger, probing and stretching the tight ring of flesh as he worked you open, soon adding another one. You were overwhelmed, the mix of pleasure and pain sending you reeling with moans, your skin hot to the touch.
“God, you’re so tight. Pussy sucking me in.” Hoodie huffed, nails sharp against your hips as Masky tugged your shirt over your head, free hand kneading your tits. You were whining, head spinning as Masky stretched you open, Hoodie filling you at the same time. “Bet you’ve never been fucked in the ass before, huh? Gonna have you screaming.” Masky cooed against your neck, mouthing against the skin as he fingered your asshole quickly.
Pulling out, he nudged the cock head against your hole, gripping your waist as he slowly pushed. “Hold her.” He grunted at Hoodie who held you nestled on his cock, hands forcing you to bottom out as he twitched inside of you. As you felt the slow push, you began to squirm, hips jerking forward. Masky nipped at your neck, sliding his tongue up to the back of your ear and nibbling, groaning as the head of his cock pressed through your entrance and popped in, a sharp sting rining you. Crying out, Hoodie began to slowly thrust up again, huffing his pleasure as he watched your face contort. “Looks so good when you’re helpless.” He grunted, your hands gripping his hands around your hips and pulling, begging him to let off. He still held, teeth gritting.
Masky pressed slowly, cursing as your tight ass clamped down, offering him little room to thrust as he rutted against you. He was big, and the stretch was uncomfortable. But as he reached his hand around to rub your clit, your whines turned to strangled moans, Hoodie resuming his devastating pace.
Before you knew it, they were both thrusting into you, your mixed grunts and gasps echoing through the small cabin. You were overwhelmed, jaw going slack as their hips thrust in time with each other, cocks brushing against the other inside of you. They pressed close against you, Masky’s teeth digging into your skin as his fingers rubbed harshly against your swollen cunt. “Relax, sweetheart, let us just ruin you.” He groaned, hips pressed flush against your plump ass and rutting up, making you whine.
Their pace was ruining you, for sure. Your eyes roll and jaw slack as you grip tight, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t breathe, air catching in your throat as you cracked a moan. You could feel yourself getting close again, Masky’s fingers working you just right. The sweet mix of pleasure and pain ruined you, gasping hard when Hoodie slammed your hips down. Their pace was becoming ragged as well, hips rutting against you as their groans grew heavy. “Go on, cum all over us, sweetheart.” You whined, their hips heavy and voices rough as you felt that familiar pull spill over. “Oh God, please-”
Your cunt constricted, clit throbbing under rough fingers as you screamed your orgasm. It was dizzying, both holes clamping down and throbbing around the thick lengths as they continued to pound you. Your sensitivity rocked you, hips squirming and tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to claw away from their still brutal pace.
“Oh don’t go running now.” Hoodie huffed, lifting his hips off the couch and slamming inside, relishing in the way your tightness held him. They both grunted, Masky tangling his hand in your hair and slipping out of your ass, your loud whine making him curse. Hoodie was soon to follow, standing and throwing your back down on the couch, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder above you. You were panting, sweat coating your brow as you watched them fist their cocks in front of your face, their grunts and huffs echoing behind their masks. “Open up.” Masky barked, pressing his cock close to your face.
Fucked out, you obliged, too tired to give up a fight. They groaned, cock heads touching as they came on your flattened tongue, their seed striping across your face. You closed your eyes, squirming as the warm liquid coated your face and their moans became ragged.
After they settled, your eyes were heavy, blinking calmly as they watched you. Hoodie slid over to the kitchen table, grabbed your camera and flipped it on, laughing as he snapped pictures. Your cheeks were dark, your face fucked out and tired as the flash blinded you. “Looks real good without cum all over you.” He smiled, stuffing his cock back in his jeans as Masky did the same. Masky grabbed your ragged shirt, huffing as he wiped your face clean, your tired eyes making him laugh. “I like you a lot better when your mouth isn’t running.”
You couldn’t be bothered to give a response, just slumping down further into the couch as sleepiness dozed you. The two men chuckled, watching closely as you finally slipped into a very vulnerable sleep.
-
When you stirred, the first thing you were met with was the forest floor, grass tickling your nose. It was light outside, the early morning light slightly blinding your tired eyes. You sat up, looking around quickly but sighing when there was no sign of the men or their freaky cabin. Your backpack was beside you, leaning against the barbed wire fence where you had entered the forest, your camera sat on top. Standing, you grabbed the camera, flipping it on as you quickly looked through the photos.
You cringed as you looked at the lewd pictures of yourself, embarrassment crippling your face. You were thankful for their mercy, but their bruteness made you groan, your lower region still sore and throbbing. You threw your bag over your shoulders, hopping back over the fence as you made the trek back to your car.
You glanced back one final time, nervously scanning the forest edge, but sighing when you found nothing.
You got more than you came for, but at least your portfolio would be good.
This was an anonymous request!
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