#creepypasta x Reader

[intimidating-fettuccine]

[In a mirror maze]

Y/N, seeing Toby: C'mon, you got it! Almost through!

Toby: I see you! [Runs full force into a mirror, shattering it]

Y/N: [Screams]

[noctiva]

How about Toby with a reader that has a cigarette kink? Like just gets turned on by him taking a hit during sex haha (maybe putting it out on them idk 👀)

I love when me and my readers are on the exact same wavelength <3 Toby smoking!! helloooo sailor!!

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Inhale, Exhale

Toby Rogers x F!Reader

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WC: 7.3k

Summary: There’s a lot of things you find hot about your boyfriend. Him smoking, though? That might just take the cake. Good thing that he’s on board when you tell him about it.

CW: Explicit sexual content, 18+ content, unsafe sex, smoking kink?? idk the name for it, slight masochism and sadism, reader gets a cigarette put out on her, Toby speaking german, oral sex (male receiving), deepthroating, messy sweaty sex, dirty talk, a little bit of mocking, big dick toby bc duh, hair pulling, creampie, praise kink, multiple orgasms, size kink I suppose

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Some of the acts written here aren’t meant to be replicated irl! Stay safe!

for any german just highlight then click translate!! <3

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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Everyone has something (or maybe multiple things) they find strangely attractive about their significant other.

Maybe it’s the way they laugh - the way their eyes crinkle up and their breathing turns into a wheeze. Maybe it’s how they look when they’re freshly rolled out of bed, with hair mussed up and drooping bleary eyes. Maybe, it’s something a bit more obvious, like the curve of their hips or the slope of their neck - both looking best adorned with splotchy marks of your desire.

For you, it was something you refused to bring up to him. Because it just seemed so… Oddly embarrassing. So strange in the way such a simple habit of his made your skin heat up just from watching him partake in it.

But was it really your fault, that Toby looked so agonizingly good when he smoked?

There was just something about it. Keeping the cigarette perched between his lips as he exhaled the smoke through his nose, hands busied as he sharpened his hatchets in the backyard. The way his cheeks hollowed when he took a drag, or how runaway smoke would always drift out the gash on the side of his face. Maybe it was how serene he always looked while doing it - nicotine being the perfect bandaid for all of his wearies and troubles, leaving him with not even a wrinkle of stress as he filled his lungs to the brim with miasma.

It was cute, how he always kept one tucked behind his ear in case of ‘emergencies’ as he had put it. It was even cuter, how he’d nibble of the filter of one but not light it when he was getting close to running out.

You know that you probably shouldn’t find it hot. Shouldn’t encourage it, definitely, because it surely wasn’t a healthy habit (especially with the rate at which he partook in it) but you just couldn’t help yourself.

He made it look so effortlessly good. Unaware that he was even brewing these thoughts within you as he flicked his lighter for the millionth time that day - casting a golden glow against the features of his face.

Every time he lit up, you had to clench your fists to try and negate the urge to jump his bones right then and there. It was maddening really, how such a simple act could turn you into a simmering puddle of desire. It was even more maddening, that Toby was none the wiser.

You’d think that it would get obvious, but as much as you loved him, Toby wasn’t exactly the best at picking up on social cues. It had taken you literal months of dropping the most obvious hints known to man before he realized that you actually liked him. So it’s not really a surprise at all, that he hadn’t caught on to your sick desire yet.

If anything, he thought that you were just thinking about picking up a smoking for yourself. Whenever he caught you staring a little too long, or fixating on the sight of the cigarette slotted between his lips, all you’d get in return was a raised eyebrow and his hand extending it to you as an offer.

You’d always refuse. You didn’t want to smoke for yourself, you just wanted to lick the taste of tobacco off of his lips.

Which, was precisely what you were doing right now.

Sat on Toby’s lap, your arms lay resting around his shoulders, lips slotted against his as he lets out little rumbles of appreciation against you. His hands rest of your hips, squeezing softly, pulling you in closer and closer with each second that passed by.

He had gotten home from a mission a few hours ago, and you had barely given him time to dry off from his shower before you were preying on him - watching him from the bed as he tugged a pair of baggy sweatpants over his hips, his still damp hair dripping onto his skin and rolling down the slope of his back.

Toby didn’t complain, of course, how could he? Coming home from the brutality of his job, just to be showered with attention and affection from the woman he loved most. It didn’t take long for him to join you on the bed, took even less time for innocent cuddling to escalate into something more, and from there it took mere seconds before you found yourself perched on his lap - running your hands down his bare chest to feel each groove and dip of his muscles and scars.

“Y-You’re needy today.” He murmured softly against your lips, unable to help the sly smile that stretched across his face as you slowly began to rock against him. Barely there movements of your hips, like maybe if you’re sneaky enough about it he won’t notice. “What’s g-gotten into you, pretty girl?”

What’s gotten into you, indeed. Well, maybe the fact that you can still taste the smoke on his lips. Maybe it’s because despite the clean, crisp scent of soap and shampoo that was wafting off of him, it was bordered with that familiar twang of burnt tobacco. Why? Well because he had slotted a cigarette between his lips before he had even gotten dressed properly, puffing away at it to ease away the unspent nerves from his mission. Something that might’ve been a nuisance to anyone else, but to you? It was the cherry on top to having him finally home.

“Nothin’.” You answer back softly as your lips slowly trail from his mouth, down the curve of his jaw. God, you can taste it on his skin too. That smoky musk that coated him completely. The perfect accent to the squeaky clean scent it was covering up. You feel goosebumps rise on the back of your neck before a shiver goes down your spine, and the you let out a shuddering breath just next to his ear. “Just missed you.” That was an understatement, and you knew he could tell. You had barely done anything more than kiss him, and yet you were burning up beneath your clothes - sweat beading up on your brow just from being so close to him. “And… You taste good.”

Toby’s eyebrows shoot up, and he pauses for a second before letting out a deep chuckle that rumbles out from his chest. One of the hands gripping your waist slides upwards, cupping the back of your neck as your nose into his hair and nip at his earlobe. He couldn’t deny how intoxicating this felt, being the object of your unwavering desire. He barely even had to do anything and yet you were melting into him - the movements of your hips growing more obvious as you pressed your body further against him.

He was a lucky, lucky man. If only he knew he was just about to get luckier.

“I taste g-good?” He laughs softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your hipbone as his other hand curls into your hair. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, permeating through your clothes to beat against his bare skin. Your attraction towards him was always obvious, but right now it was palpable - thickening the air around the two of you, shallowing his breathing as you pulled him further and further down into your pool of desire. “Baby, I p-probably taste like an ashtray right n-now.”

And he wasn’t wrong. He did. It coated his skin like a film, sunk into his hair and clung to his very essence no matter how many times he scrubbed himself clean. You loved it. Loved how musky and raw it was, how it left your tongue tasting bitter when you pulled away from him - like he was leaving a stain on you. It seeped out of his pores when his sweat mixed with yours, dirtying you from the inside out, stripping away the sweetness you sported and making you cohesive with his scent instead.

“You do.” You murmur as your lips drag against his neck. Back up his jawline, across his cheek, finding a home against his once more. “I like it.”

So intoxicated, you just couldn’t help but finally let the cat out of the bag. In your opinion, it’s been out for a very long time, Toby’s just been too oblivious to realize. You supposed you couldn’t blame him. He viewed his smoking as a troublesome, dirty addiction. Of course he wouldn’t expect you to be into it.

As proven by the way his eyebrows immediately furrow once your words sunk in. Staring up into your eyes from below, you could see the mixture of shock and confusion swimming in his irises. His gaze darting around your face with a desperate need to figure you out.

Because, you liked it? Liked the taste of ash on your tongue? That couldn’t be right. Everyone else he came in contact to who wasn’t a smoker constantly complained about the smell. Scrunching their noses up when he got too close, letting out an annoyed scoff at the sound of his lighter flicking.

But you? You didn’t just… not mind it, like he had originally assumed. You were a fan of it. A big fan, actually, if the way you were turning to mush in his hands was anything yo go by. Was that why? Was it the ember at the tip of his cigarette, that ignited you?

Was it not because you were fighting the urge to indulge in smoking yourself? Was it because you wanted to indulge in him, instead?

His brain was struggling to compute all of it, but all of the answers he could possibly need were laid out clear as day in the depths of your eyes. He could drown in the potency of the desire swirling within them. Not trying to mask it at all anymore, letting him see just how deep your attraction for him ran.

From where he was sitting, it looked bottomless.

“You… You like it.” He breathes out those words in repetition, not as a question, because he knows the answer anyway. It’s a statement. An affirmation. An acceptance of something he never thought would be brewing in the pretty little head of yours.

His fingers dance against your waist, quivering as they sneak up and under the hem of your shirt - splaying against the warm skin hidden beneath before they’re smoothing up the expanse of your back. You’re burning up, he can feel it. He himself felt warm but compared to you? His palm felt cold against the all consuming heat you were coated in. “H-How much?”

Cradling your head with his other hand, he coaxes you in closer, not stopping until the tip of your nose was pressed to his. “How much do you l-like it?” He can hear his own voice quivering, buckling under the weight of the desire that was wrapping itself around his limbs. His head felt like it was underwater, and yet all of his senses had suddenly spiked. Every sound that wasn’t your heartbeat and breathing sounding muffled. His skin tingling wherever it met yours.

He has to hear you say it. Has to know just exactly what you’re getting at. Because he’ll give it to you - he’ll always give it to you. No order too tall, for the woman he loved the most.

And with him so clearly on board, it felt like a disservice to yourself to try and hide it any longer.

“I like it… A lot.” You whisper, breath fanning against his lips as you look into his eyes. Gaze unwavering. Really letting it sink in that this is nothing but the bare truth. “I like the taste of it. The smell of it.” You hesitate for just a moment before laying it all bare. “I like watching you do it. I think it’s really hot.”

Hook, line, and sinker - you got him good. It’s almost embarrassing how viscerally his body reacts to those softly spoken words. Feeling it immediately as all the blood in his brain rushes south so quickly it nearly makes him feel lightheaded. His already shaky breathing catches in his throat, lungs feeling tight as he stares up at you in a state of near awe.

You just got better and better every single day, didn’t you? Just when he thought he couldn’t win even more than he already had.

“You do?” You feel his fingers curl against your back, blunt fingernails scratching against your skin as he tries to reign himself in. It’s not working, and you can tell, because he’s just getting harder and harder beneath you. “Th-That why you’re always watchin’ me like a hawk when I do it?” His other hand frees itself from your hair only to grasp your chin, holding you in place. “I just thought y-you wanted a taste.” You watch as his lips curl up into a cocky grin. “You do, just n-not how I had thought.”

You could practically see it, the moment that switch flips in his brain. When the shock and disbelief subsided for something more heady. Something that deepened the darkness already present in his eyes. Something that makes his grip tighten minutely, but enough to be noticeable. Noticeable enough for the heat within you to migrate lower and lower. Swirling in your gut and weighing you down heavily. Making your hips press to his more firmly, shivering when you feel him throb beneath you.

The sweatpants he’s wearing aren’t doing a thing to conceal him. You can feel the shape of him, so hard and thick as he slots against your core - the only barrier being a few flimsy pieces of clothing. And you were impatient before, but now you really are. The clothes that you’re wearing feel like shackles, so irritating in the way they’re preventing you from feeling him fully. Skin to skin.

Your hands reach upwards to splay against his chest, feeling the heat of his bare skin against your palms. The lingering dampness from his shower had all dried up now, leaving just smooth soft skin behind. Marred by a multitude of scars and blights but you couldn’t care less. You would trace every scar with your lips without ever once growing bored. Count each once and marvel at the differences in them. Some small and thin, some deep and wide - all holding a story that Toby kept under lock and key.

All being proof of another foe he had slain, who stood in the way of making it home to you.

“I just…” You take in a shaky breath, your eyes dropping down to watch as your thumb smoothed against the biggest scar on his body. The symbol of the group he had been roped into, carved into his chest like a brand. “I don’t know how to describe it. You look really good while doing it.”

You feel it against your palm as Toby hums softly, vibrating through your hand.

“A-Alright.” He murmurs back to you, muscles twitching and tensing up beneath your ghostlike touch. “I’ll indulge you. Grab me my ss-smokes.”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears. Freezing for just a moment as your heart rate picks up to an almost dangerous degree. But once you break free from your state of shock, you’re moving faster than you ever have.

Wriggling out of his grasp to lean over to the nightstand, grabbing the pack of cigarettes that feels like gold in your palm. You grab his lighter too, and get settled back on his lap comfortably, before extending both items out to him. He doesn’t move. “Nuh uh.” He laughs softly, lips stretched into an absolutely shiteating grin. “D-Do it for me.”

Oh. Right. Of course. Why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to melt you even more? Of course he’d want you slipping between his fingers, nothing but a simmering pool of desire-filled mush. And you know deep down, that you want that just as badly.

So you oblige. Holding his gaze as you tap a cigarette out of the pack and into your palm before tossing the carton onto the bed next to you. Then, you lean forwards, waiting a moment for Toby to part his lips before you slot the smoke between his teeth. And he’s watching you like a hawk. Tracking every little movement of yours - from the way your bottom lip trembles, to the way you nervously fumble with his lighter to try and get it lit. “W-Why’re you nervous, baby?” He asks softly, words partially muffled around the filter.

“Not nervous.” You breathe back to him, fingers trembling as you spark his lighter once - twice - before getting the flame to ignite. “Just… Excited.”

You lean forwards, watching the flickering golden light dance against his face as the flame hovers before it. And he looks so beautiful. Always looks so beautiful, but especially now. Bathed in hues of orange in yellow, a reflection of the fire glimmering in his eyes. So effortlessly subjugating you nearly fumble and drop the lighter completely, but luckily you manage to keep hold of it - even with sweat beading up on your palms.

Next, you lean forwards. The sound of tobacco fizzling under the heat when you catch the tip of his cigarette, it feels like a beckoning call. The scent that had already drawn you in seeping exponentially, sticking to your nostrils as runaway spirals of smoke drifted towards you.

But that’s not what you’re focused on. You’re focused on Toby. Toby, as his cheeks hollow to take a drag. Toby, as smoke puffs out of the corners of his lips while he gets the ember on the tip to really heat up. Toby, as he watches you with eyes so dark it makes you shiver, smoke leaving his lips to curl upwards towards the ceiling in winding tendrils.

You weren’t religious, but you might just consider it now, so long as your worship was directed towards the absolute god sat below you. “Hah, you really d-do like it.” Toby snickers softly, using his right hand to pluck the cigarette from his lips so that he could speak properly. “You’ve pretty much g-got hearts in your eyes.” He ashes the cigarette right above you, and the ash falls - landing right against your bare thigh. “E-Ein bisschen krank, f-findest du nicht?”

You’d think he was trying to kill you. He knew. He knew that the sound of his mother tongue always hit a sweet spot within you. But right now, with his voice gravelly, low, and thickened by smoke? You might just pass out on top of him. “P-Pretty girl’s gonna drool over it.” He lets out a laugh that’s downright cruel, before taking in another lungful of smoke. “W-Wanna do something about th-that?”

Of course you do. You had been wanting to before he had even sparked up, the weight of his hardened cock beneath you making you feel dizzy. But, you were glad that you waited, because now you were going to get a show along with it. Maybe you should learn to just voice all of your deepest desires, because doing so seemed to always really work in your favour.

You nod, and before Toby can even blink you’re shimmying down his body. Spreading his thighs with your hands so that you can comfortably kneel between them. You’re happy that he’s dressed comfortably, because you barely even have to work to get him bare. No belt, no zipper, just a stretchy elastic waistband that you couldn’t get pulled down quick enough.

And oh he must’ve been at least expecting this, because you’re very pleased to find that he’s not wearing any underwear beneath. Just one tug and you find yourself face to face with his bare cock, looking just as glorious as when you had last laid eyes on it.

You considered yourself lucky to be with Toby for a multitude of reasons. His undying devotion, his charisma and charm, the sweet side that he only ever showed to you, the fact that he would literally die to protect you. All, lovely things, but you’d be lying if you said that his dick didn’t make the top three. To say that he was well endowed would be an understatement. Long enough that you really had to work to take him all, thick enough that the stretch left you brainless. Flushed the prettiest shade of pink at the tip. Curved just enough to perfectly hit your gspot every time he sunk into you.

It should be illegal, really, to have a dick like this just walking the streets. But with that arrogant nature of his, you probably should’ve expected it when you first met him. He knew what he had, and he just loved to watch you drool over it.

Which you did, and were doing right now. You could feel it pooling in the corners of your lips as you reached forwards, curling your fingers into a fist around the base of his cock. Feeling how incredibly hard he was, how he throbbed against your palm. Then your eyes flick upwards, and you feel lightheaded. Because he’s watching you. Watching you through half-lidded eyes, that damn cigarette perched between his lips as smoke puffs out of the gash in his cheek.

His hands had come up to rest behind his head. Getting real comfortable for the best show ever, his girl and her pretty lips stretching around him - struggling to take him all but trying to so earnestly. The look in his eyes, equal parts lust-filled and amused makes your cheeks burn, but the words he speaks next absolutely set you alight. “Hübsches Mädchen. I-Ich will dich schmutzig machen.”

A full body shiver makes your thighs tremble, and your chest feels tight as you dip your head down low. Giving a few kitten licks to the tip to get acquainted, unable to hold back the soft moan you let out when his precum meets your tastebuds. It’s stupid, how absolutely enamoured you were with every single part of him. So much so that you haven’t even touched yourself, but you can feel the wetness accumulating between your thighs as your lips wrap around him.

Sucking him into the velvety warmth of your mouth, dragging your tongue against the underside of his cock as you do so. Fresh out of the shower, he tastes so good. So clean and fresh, and so him. Drunk on it, you sink down as low as you can, only stopping when the tip starts nudging against your gag reflex. “F-Feels so good, baby. L-Love that mouth of yours.” If you needed encouragement, that sure did the trick. Low and strained with pleasure Toby’s voice meets your ears. Breathless, eyebrows pinching together as his lips part. The saliva coating his lips lets the filter of the cigarette stick to it, dangling from his mouth as he takes in gasping breaths of air.

His vision is hazy, but he can see you clear as day, even through the streams of smoke clouding his view. Propped up on your elbows between his thighs, eyebrows furrowed as you try to sink down lower, nails sinking into his hips as you relax your throat as much as you can. “D-Don’t hurt yourself. Y-You don’t gotta take it all.”

Like hell you don’t. Especially when he says that, cooed out in a tone of near pity. You would, and you could take all of him. You’ve done it successfully before, and he clearly needs a reminder of that fact.

You shoot him a look that very clearly conveys that sentiment - pure, unrefined determination - before you take the plunge. Taking one last quivering breath in through your nose, then forcing your head down lower. Fighting against your aching throat as you let him in completely - sinking all the way down, not stopping until you find yourself nuzzling into the patch of fuzz at the base. “Scheiße-“

Toby gasps so harshly that the cigarette really does fall from his lips this time, hitting his chest and dirtying his skin with ash. It is the absolute least of his problems right now though, and he struggles to pick it up with quivering fingers as you slowly begin to bob your head. “J-Jesus christ-“ He can’t stop his hips from twitching and bucking, and can’t help the way his toes curl when you drag your tongue against him the whole way up.

You were heavenly. Drooling all over him but it didn’t fucking matter, because the sound of you slurping it all back up was so filthy it made his blood simmer in his veins. So quickly, you had flipped the script on him, turning him into just as much of a mess as you were - maybe even more.

But that was… Debatable, because you were definitely falling apart. Your panties were damn near soaked by now, clinging to your folds as more and more slick dripped out of your aching cunt. You loved going down on Toby, you really did, and it showed. From the way you were shifting and pressing your thighs together, to the moans slipping out of your lungs and vibrating around him.

You just couldn’t get enough of it. The drag of his length against your throat, the ache in your jaw as you stretched your mouth open to take him all. The feeling of all that filth. All the saliva that you couldn’t swallow back, pooling around the base of his cock and dripping down his thighs. The tears welling up in your eyes as you teetered on the edge of your limit, before they were bursting free and rolling down your cheeks.

It was hard to breathe, hard to suck in gasps of air everytime you pulled your head up, because your nose was all stuffed up and snotty. It only got harder, when an acrid cloud of smoke consumed your vision.

Toby, the absolute marvel of a man, had just taken a deep drag, filling his lungs up to the brim completely - before blowing it all out, right at you. It made your eyes burn, springing forth more tears that joined your already overflowing collection. It filled your nose and made your lungs ache, but it was everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and you didn’t even have to ask him.

He just knew.

And it just spurred you on more. With thighs quivering and your neglected cunt throbbing within the confines of your panties, you were moaning around him with each nod of your head. Being taken higher and higher just from the taste of him on your tongue, the smell of him filling your lungs. He was all consuming, completely drowning you in stimulation on every front. It was working. You were so wound up by now you were convinced you’d cum if he did so much as lay a finger on you. “B-Baby, baby-“ You feel his hand atop your head, gentle but insistent, before his fingers curl into your hair and tug you upwards. He drags you up his cock, until your mouth is left empty and it’s hitting his stomach with a wet slap. “Keep goin’ like that a-and I won’t get to f-fuck you.”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, his eyes gleaming with nothing but adoration as he gazed down at you. You were a mess, just how he wanted you to be. Lips swollen and glossy, cheeks streaked with tears. Chin smeared with drool. And yet, you looked so beautiful. So, incredibly beautiful. Because you were his mess. “C’mon.” His hand drifts down lower, before he’s pinching your slick cheek between two fingers. “G-Get that ass up here.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You barely even needed to be asked at all. You’re moving before he even really finishes talking. Crawling back up his body, hastily tugging down your shorts and panties as you do so. Your desperation is obvious, and it just makes Toby love you even more. “You’re such a s-slut.” He laughs softly once you’re straddling his hips once more, your visibly aroused, glistening pussy hovering right above his cock. And his words are harsh, but his tone is soft. Enamoured even. “All I had to do was smoke a c-cig and let you suck me off, and luh-look at you.”

With the hand not holding his cigarette, he reaches down lower. Sliding between your thighs to really feel the effect he had on you. Slickness coating his fingers the moment he made contact. “Fuckin’ dripping all over me.”

“Don’t be mean.” You whine softly, hips bucking when his fingers leave you just moments later. In the wake of that lack of contact, you drop your hips down lower - sliding your cunt against his spit-slick length, shivering at the feeling of him beneath you. You grind against him like that. Back and forth, back and forth, slotting his cock between your folds with each rock of your hips.

And it’s enough to stoke the flame within you. Enough for you to just get even wetter. ‘Dripping all over him’, as he had put so eloquently.

“N-Not being mean. Just telling the t-truth.” He catches his cigarette between his teeth once more, now smoked down almost all the way to the filter. Another spot of ash falls off the tip when he takes a drag, joining the little pile that had accumulated on his pecs. “You g-gonna keep teasing me?” He asks as your hips roll against him once more, a slow drag of your hips that makes his own buck up towards you. “C’mon baby, let me g-give it to you.”

“You ever heard of patience?” You ask him softly, but you do listen. Reaching down between the two of you to take hold of his cock once more, lining it up with your entrance before teasing swiping the tip through your slick.

“Not with you.” Toby answers back almost immediately, before taking that last final drag off of his smoke. He plucks it from his lips and observes it for a second, before his gaze flickers back over to you. You can see the thought brew before he even moves next. But then he does, bringing the butt of the cigarette close to you. Closer. Close enough you can feel the heat on the still smouldering ember. Then, it touches you.

Presses into you. Right into your shoulder as it sizzles against your skin. Toby watches with a keen interest. How the smoke dissipates. How you tense up and falter where your hips hover over his. How your whole face scrunches up in pain from the feeling of his cigarette snuffing out against you - but most of all, how you don’t pull away. How you just take it. Lean into it, actually. Melting into his touch when he flicks the smoke away and wipes the ash from your skin.

The mark it leaves behind, a red angry little burn mark, is so beautiful to him that it makes his stomach twist.

Almost as much as when you start sinking down onto him. Spurred by the heat that burn had sunk into your bones, your hips lower. Not prepped even a little bit, but you don’t care - even if it’s a tough task to bear. “W-Woah, take it easy baby.” Toby has to gasp out, his hands flying down to grip your hips and slow your movements. “Take it slow, a-alright? I’m here all night.”

You knew he was right. Just a few inches in and your thighs were already shaking, your whole body quivering from the feeling of him stretching you open around him. He was almost too much to take. Almost. Easier on a night when he had fingered you open first, but you were too impatient for that today.

So instead, you reach up to grasp at his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles as you listened to what he said - and took it slow. Gently rocking your hips downwards. Revelling in the stretch with each inch he sunk into you. Giving yourself a moment to adjust before you let yourself take more. More, more, drooling all over him as your welcoming cunt swallowed him up - your jaw going slack the deeper that he got. “There you go. A-Always take me so well.”

Toby’s hands rub your hips soothingly, not rushing you, just encouraging you gently as you dropped down lower and lower. Holding back the need to buck up into you, even as his teeth grit from how fucking tight you were. Wrapping around him like a glove, this hot, velvety warmth that made his mind go blank. You were so perfect. He’d go as far to say that you were moulded to him, because it sure as hell felt like it. Your pussy was heaven on earth, and he’d swear it just got better every time he got the blessing of indulging in it.

It takes a considerable amount of time for you to finally take him all, but once you do, it’s euphoric. Your hips meet his and you melt - crumpling against his chest from the feeling of him nestled so deep inside you. Throbbing inside you. The head of his cock just barely kissing your cervix, filling you up to the brim. “O-Oh, there it is.” His arms come up to wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he gives you a moment to just feel it. Just feel him, right where he’s supposed to be. “So fuckin’ good.” His lips brush against your ear as he nuzzles into your hair, breathing quivering on exhale.

It’s hard not to just grip your waist and just start pounding up into you, but he knows you need a moment - so he gives it to you. Feeling how you tremble against his chest as your pussy twitches around him. Slowly, but surely, relaxing. “G-Gonna let me fuck you good?” He asks, once he’s sure you’re ready for it - able to feel how your cunt eased up around him. Still tight as a glove, but less tense. “I won’t make you do a th-thing.”

And that sounds lovely. So, you nod. Letting out a little whimper of agreement that meets his ears and immediately snaps whatever control he had been clinging on to.

You give him permission, and he takes it immediately. With arms around you, he pulls your body upwards, groaning into your neck at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. It was too good. Too good, and he had barely even started yet. “D-Du fühlst dich himmlisch.”

And once he’s sure you’re ready for it? When just the tip remains enveloped in your heat, but you’re whining for more - gasping against his neck for him to just give it to you? He delivers exactly what he said he would. He fucks you good. While barely letting you do a damn thing.

You don’t need to. His strong arms cradle you, bouncing you on his lap to a pace that makes your knees go weak. Slumped against him weakly, moaning desperately into the crook of his shoulder with each drop of your hips. Because he was everything. He left absolutely nothing to be desired, with the way each stroke left you breathless. With the way each thrust in made you gush around him even more.

He was gentle with it at first. As gentle as he could be. Rolling your hips up and down, up and down, slow enough to get you used to it, but with enough fervour to have you drooling for more.

“T-Toby-“ You gasp against his shoulder, barely even able to get his name out between moans with how delicious the drag of his cock was against your quivering walls. You had been so pent up already. So close to the edge just from tasting him, that lasting long enough to keep up with him was laughable at best. That heat within you was boiling over now. Consuming you completely as you clawed at his shoulders and sobbed against his neck.

You could feel him so deep it made your eyes roll back. So deep, you knew you’d be feeling him for days after this. But he just kept bucking into you, kept pulling your hips down to meet him, fucking up into you like he owned the cunt he was abusing. Because he did, and you both knew it.

“A-Ah, you’re gonna cum for me already, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice rough and gravelly against your ear - his once clean skin slick with sweat as it slid against yours. “G-Gettin’ so tight for me.” With one hand on your waist and one sliding up to grasp your hair, he plays your body like a fiddle. Moving you against him so perfectly, hitting that sweet spot within you on each stroke in. “Let me f-feel it, pretty girl.”

And how could you deny him? How could you even attempt to, when you could barely breathe from the intensity of your pleasure? So, just moments after he asks you to, you follow the command in stride.

The intensity of your orgasm is blinding. Makes your vision damn near go white as you absolutely crumble against him - your cunt pulsing around him through his never faltering thrusts, squeezing him so tight it makes him let out a hiss through his teeth. His nails bite into your hips, sinking in so deep there will probably (definitely) be bruises by the morning, but he doesn’t care - and you definitely don’t either.

How could you? You could barely think. Not when he gave you not a second of reprieve, just fucking you through your release with thrusts that make your whole body buzz. You can feel yourself just soaking him even more, the slickness of your fluids dirtying both of you and causing a filthy sound of stickiness every time his hips separated from yours. “F-Fuck-“

If you thought Toby was fucking you good before, the moment that your coil snapped and left your pussy spasming around him - whatever last vestiges of control he had been holding onto were gone. Completely thrown to the wind.

Now, with you all pliant and shaky on top of him, he was bouncing you on his lap like a doll. Drilling his cock up into you, sinking in to the hilt on every brutal thrust. Getting himself buried balls deep in the absolute heaven that was your cunt. So warm and wet he could fucking drool over it. The sound of skin on skin so loud it echoed off of your bedroom walls.

The once clean sheets? Sullied. Toby’s freshly washed skin? Dirtied and coated with a sheen on sweat and slickness. “Shoulda-“ His words cut off into a moan that’s muffled into your neck, an absolutely guttural sound. “Shoulda t-told me you luh-liked me smoking before.” And he’s panting against you. Heavy huffs of breath against your neck, littered with husky grunts and groans. “C-Coulda been fucking you like this a-ages ago.”

And you know he’s right, but better late than never, right? You can still feel the burn he placed upon you - stinging more and more with all the sweat accumulating on your skin - and you loved it. It was just one more intense sensation to add to the absolute heap of ecstasy you were being drowned in. “God, I just-“

He doesn’t finish his sentence, because before he can he’s flipping the script. Sitting up then pushing you backwards - pinning you to the sheets without ever letting his cock slip out of you. And like this, he absolutely owns you. Lifting your legs until they’re slung over his shoulders, never once faltering in the absolutely brutal thrusts he was dealing upon you. Fucking out more wetness from you with each press in, this new angle getting him so deep it sprung tears to your eyes. “So good-“ His hands slip down and around to splay against each of your ass cheeks, spreading you apart even wider for his taking. “And ss-so fucking pretty, god-“

He was absolutely intoxicated by you. His mind turned to nothing but mush that sloshed around in his skull. A teeming pool of desire, saturated completely with thoughts of you. “You g-gonna let me fill you up?” He gasps against you, sweat dripping off of his hair and smearing against your skin. “G-Gonna let me get this pussy f-full of me?”

“Uh huh-“ You hiccup out, your whole body jolting from the force of each thrust he gave you. So sensitive that you were already beginning to twitch around him again, and the idea of him pumping you full of his cum? Yeah, that just took you higher. Just got you wetter. Just got you closer to a second release. “Give- Give it to me Toby, please.”

God, how did he get so lucky? How did he, a literal serial killer, land a woman so perfect it hurt? A woman so beautiful it made his chest ache? A woman who, was currently begging for his cum with tears in her eyes. Maybe, karma didn’t exist. It sure didn’t feel like it did right now.

“Scheiße-“ He hisses out, and he really only doubles his efforts from there. Feeling you starting to twitch around him and wanting to get you there again. Wanting to cum to the feeling of your pussy milking his cock like it was its job. “So eine d-dreckige Schlampe. Und du gehörst g-ganz mir.”

His right hand slips upwards, and it only takes a few tight circles rubbed against your clit before you’re coming apart for the second time.

And when you come apart, so does he. The tightness of your cunt nearly suffocates him, and he’s barely even able to continue thrusting into you - instead just rutting against you. Grinding his cock against the walls of your convulsing pussy until he’s falling apart right alongside you.

Toby cums with a long, drawn out groan against your neck. Lips dragging against your skin, hips stuttering as he empties his spend right up against your womb. Pumping it into you with lazily thrusts that leave you whimpering, cheeks heating up when you feel it gush out around you and drip down your thighs.

It’s a lot. You can tell it is. That warmth that flooded your cunt, stuffing you fuller than you already had been. And you love it. So much so, that when he tries to pull out you let out a whine - nails digging into his shoulders with a pout on your lips. “A-Alright, alright.” Toby chuckles breathlessly, choosing instead to just wrap his arms around you and pull you in close, even as his cock starts to soften inside you. “Fuck, you j-just get better every time, you know that?”

“Says you.” You murmur breathlessly, your voice strained and raspy - so raw from the cacophony of moans and sobs that had left your lungs. You sink into him easily, revelling in the feeling of his bare skin against yours. In the feeling of his seed dripping out of you - joining the mess that had already accumulated on the sheets beneath you.

“Mm, you’re j-just sayin’ that because I indulged in your sick little f-fantasies.” He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your neck. You can feel his hair tickle your skin, can feel his stubble scratch against you - and you can smell him. That musky smell of sweat and smoke. It’s almost enough to get you going all over again.

“Maybe.” You agree with a soft giggle. “But my point still stands.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You can’t see it, but you just know Toby’s rolling his eyes. Rightfully so, to be honest. “Next time, I’ll put out my c-cig on your tongue.”

And that, is a threat you can’t wait for.

—————————————————————————☆

okay! more filthy toby smut!

this was yummy lols thank you to my lovely anon for making this happen

thank you for reading!!

[bingobongocheerio]

E.J.: How do you spell Hawai'i?

(Y/N): Well, you need two I's...

E.J.: [puts pen down] My life is a joke to you, isn't it, (Y/N)?

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 9

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

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Taglist: @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @kindadolly @guineveresghost @cedarwood-05

Divider by @plum98

You wake with a start.

You gasp—choking and coughing with the taste of ashes on your tongue. Your lungs are burning.

Everything aches. Your coughs are dry and scratchy, your throat raw like you’ve been screaming all night. You’re so stiff and sore that it takes you longer than you would’ve liked to sit upright in bed—a bed that isn’t yours.

You try to ignore your searing thirst as you look at your surroundings.

You’ve no idea where you are.

It looks like you’re in the small room of an old, somewhat dilapidated cabin.

The walls are wooden, with various kinds of marks and imperfections etched into it. Dark stains are splattered about, with the occasional cobweb clinging to the nooks and crannies of the room.

The place is small, with just barely enough space for the double bed you’ve woken up in. There’s a nightstand flush between the bed and the wall, and a single square window above it. The only other pieces of furniture are a wooden drawer and a coat rack.

None of it looks familiar.

You try to recall how you ended up here. The last thing you remember is walking through the woods with the masked men. And then you remember being afraid, and feeling that now-unfortunately-familiar knot of dread at the pit of your stomach like you were about to die. You remember heat like you’ve never felt before.

Vague memories of a giant spider resurface, its legs long and spindly like the twisted branches of old trees coiling together. But you’re not certain if you’re remembering the remnants of an old dream, or if it actually has anything to do with reality.

You flinch, cradling your head as a migraine threatens to split your head open.

Everything hurts. You’re sore and thirsty and hungry, and you just feel wrong.

You plant your feet on the floor, only for a wave of dizziness and nausea to wash over you. When you try to breathe through it, another fit of coughs wrack through your diaphragm.

The taste of blood tickles the back of your throat.

You swallow it down.

When the coughing subsides, you stand.

Another wave of dizziness overtakes you, black dots blotting your vision, but after a few slow and steady breaths, it eventually dissipates.

You tread over the frayed rustic carpet. Every step hurts. When you look down, you realize why.

You look like you’ve been through hell and back.

Your clothes are torn. The pants you’d been given have holes at the knees, with the ends filthy with something dark and crusted that you hope is only dirt and nothing else. Your skin is scraped and bruised with dirt caked into the wounds. There’s dried blood beneath your fingernails.

What happened?

You look down at your hands, filthy and scabbed over with fresh wounds, and for a brief moment, you get the strange feeling that this isn’t your body. You don’t feel like yourself.

You shake your head, as if it could clear the feeling away.

Deep breaths; it’ll pass.

You know that you probably should wait for the unease to fade, but you really don’t want to. You want to leave this place—wherever you are—as soon as possible. So even though you’re as dazed as you are, you still make it to the door, open it wide and leave.

And you immediately collide with something hard and warm—another person.

In your already unstable state, the collision is more than enough to knock you off-balance. You fall and tumble over—until a pair of hands reach out to gently steady you.

“Woah—e-easy, easy.”

You don’t know whether you should be relieved or apprehensive as you recognize who you bumped into.

He’s warm.

You don’t know why that—of all things—is the first thought that comes to mind.

You’ve been away from normal people—normal civilization—for too long, you think. And it’s messing with your head—because there’s no way in hell you’d otherwise find comfort in the arms of a killer.

And yet, here you are, trying to resist the urge to lean into him, and have him wrap his hands around you and hold you tightly and tell you that it’s going to be ok. That he won’t let anything happen to you.

As soon as the idea comes to mind, you shove away from him. Something hot and sticky like guilt and humiliation churns in your gut.

“Where are we?”

Your question comes out snappy and irritated to compensate for how you'd previously gravitated towards him. And, without waiting for his answer, you push past him to stumble out of the room.

But you move too quickly and too suddenly, and those black dots return before you can even make it through the doorframe.

“W-woah, easy—“

His hands are on you again, and you open your mouth to tell him to stop, but your legs buckle beneath you. Darkness overtakes your vision for what feels like a fraction of a second, and when you snap out of it, you’re suddenly sitting on the bed, and he’s holding your hands and kneeling before you.

And he’s flipped one of the lenses of his goggles up.

Just like the first time, seeing part of his face unobstructed has your breath catching in your throat.

A thin ray of sunlight pierces through the dirty window and catches in his eye. It reflects the warmest, most honeyed tone of golden brown you’ve ever seen, and when he shifts just a certain way, you notice the flecks of green amongst the golden colour framing his dark irises.

It’s like you forget how to breathe.

His eye crinkles slightly, like he’s smiling beneath his mouthguard, and you realize that neither of you have said anything for the past few seconds, and you’ve just been staring into his eyes and holding your breath like you’re expecting something.

“Stop touching me,” you order with a shaky exhale as soon as you realize what’s happening.

“I—oh.”

His smile falls, and, much to your relief, so do his hands.

“Where are we?”

Every word hurts to pronounce as you repeat the question. Your throat aches. When you swallow, you taste blood again.

“You—you’re home. It’s—it’s ok, you don’t need to be—be—scared. You’re safe here.”

There’s this sweet, earnest kind of look in his eye. Like he wants nothing more than to reassure you, and make sure you’re ok.

You’re anything but ok.

“Listen, I—I just want to go home. I swear I—I don’t have anything to do with this. I’m not who you’re looking for—I don’t know anything about what you’re after.”

He’s quiet for a moment longer than you’d like. And then he stands, extends a hand out to help you up, and nods to the door.

“Come, you must be hungry.”

You look at his hand. He isn’t wearing his gloves, and you can see hints of his freckled skin peaking out from the sleeve of his hoody.

You don’t take his offer.

Instead, you stand, wrap your arms around yourself, and wait expectantly for him to show you the way.

He clears his throat, jerks his head to the side, his eye twitching, and then he says something beneath his breath, turns, and heads out the room.

The door opens to a hallway, which is devoid of any kind of material comfort or decoration, and you can’t help but wonder how long this guy has been living here.

You wonder if this place is also abandoned—like that hotel—and if this is just how he lives; killing people and hopping around from one abandoned place to the next to avoid the police.

You shudder, carefully keeping an eye on him as you follow behind.

Everything about this man, you realize, is a mystery.

Besides his name, you don’t know much else about him. You know that you’re treading dangerous territory; the more you get involved, the harder it’ll be to return to your normal life. But, at the same time, knowing the base minimum might be the only thing that ultimately saves your skin.

The hallway eventually opens up to a living room, and you nearly stop dead in your tracks when you see it; Masky’s there.

His mask is pushed halfway to the side so that it’s still covering most of his face, but his mouth is exposed. He has sideburns and a stubble, and you’re not certain if the facial hair is because he hasn’t had time to shave, or if he’s just too lazy to maintain himself.

He’s holding a can of beer in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other. Something about him looks casual, almost relaxed. And it feels… off.

Like the lions have let a lamb walk freely through their den.

He doesn’t acknowledge you or Toby as you walk by, and Toby doesn’t acknowledge him, either.

You wonder if they live together, and how long they’ve been living together, and, most of all, why. From what you can tell, they can’t stand one another’s guts; you can’t imagine they make good roommates.

When you walk past the living room, you catch a glimpse of what’s playing on the tv. And a hard pit of dread solidifies in your stomach—like this place just isn’t right—when you notice he’s just watching static.

Past the living room, another door leads to the kitchen. It’s furnished with the bare minimum to make it liveable; a small wooden table, a few chairs haphazardly scattered around it, a trash can and a few basic appliances sitting on the counters.

The fridge, yellowed with age, buzzes with electricity as Toby opens it.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

He pulls out a bag of sliced bread with obvious green and blue patches of mold eating through it. You peek over his shoulder at the other contents of the fridge, but there’s nothing else inside besides a few dozen beers, some plastic water bottles, and some condiments.

He looks at you looking inside the fridge. And he almost seems… embarrassed as he gestures at the bag of moldy bread.

“There—there might be a few good slices left, if you want…”

You don’t know whether you should feel bad for him or for yourself, or both.

You eye the bread, and your stomach tightens with hunger.

How long has it been?

It feels like it’s been days since your last meal. And, considering the way things have been going recently—with your getting jostled from one location to the next—the threat of starvation seems more real than ever.

Maybe you could check if there’s a good piece left…

You’re considering whether or not you’re ready to sink to that level, when something’s thrown onto the table.

You jump at the sudden noise, spinning around to find none other than Hoodie leaning against the doorframe.

He isn’t wearing his hoody, which, again, makes this whole thing seem much more casual than it feels. Instead, a simple black tee compresses rather flatteringly around his chest and biceps, and you’re, admittedly, relieved that he’s still wearing his mask.

“Quality nutrition.”

He snickers the words out—the same words you’d snapped at Masky, and embarrassment floods your face.

“Yes!” Toby celebrates, and you hear the distinct crinkling of a takeout bag being opened. “You get me the all-day breakfast?”

When you turn your attention back to him, you find him tearing through a greasy brown bag with a big yellow “M” printed on it.

Your mouth waters. You don’t think you’ve ever been more excited to eat takeout in your life.

Hoodie doesn’t indulge him with an answer. Instead, all he says as he walks away is, “You owe me 40.”

“40 bucks?” Toby repeats incredulously. “What do you mean 40 bucks??” he exclaims after him, “It’s just McDonalds!”

From the other room over, you hear Hoodie’s muffled reply of “inflation,” and then Toby’s shaking his head and muttering about the prices of things these days, all while splitting the food between the two of you.

You waste no time digging in.

Toby unwraps his burger, and he’s about to pull his mouthguard down to take a bite.

You pause mid-chew.

And, at the sound of your silence, he looks up at you. He notices you watching him, and then it seems to click that he was about to reveal his face.

He flushes—you see it in the way the top part of his cheeks redden. And then he puts the food down, flicks the lens of his goggles so that you can no longer see part of his face, and tosses his half-wrapped burger to you.

“Eat.”

You can’t tell if he’s faking the bite of frustration in his voice, or if he’s actually angry at you.

As if it’s your fault he almost revealed his identity to you.

Even if he is mad at you, you’re too hungry to care.

The first few times you swallow, no matter how much you chew, feels like nails scraping down your throat. The only thing that alleviates the pain is when Toby tosses you a water bottle from the fridge—and you nearly chug it all at once.

You’re making your way through the fries when the brain fog is starting to lift. With every bit of food hitting your empty stomach, you feel increasingly lucid, until you’re just clear-minded enough to try to figure things out.

"What is this place?" you ask, "Where are we?"

“…Home.”

He doesn’t elaborate on his answer as he sits down in front of you.

He leans back, fingers toying with the sides of his seat, and then he’s pushing off to balance on the two hind legs of the chair. You wonder how many times his teachers had to tell him to stop doing that as a kid.

You don’t think he ever listened.

"Where?” you press the question, “What city—what country?"

"...Does it really matter?"

You pause, then realize there’s no point in answering that question. You take another sip of water.

"When can you bring me back?”

"Bring you—bring you back where?"

"Home."

"This is home."

You're not getting anywhere.

You take a breath.

“This isn’t my home, this is your home. When can you bring me back to my place?”

You should be scared.

You’ve woken up in a strange place with strange men, and your body is bruised and beaten, and definitely in some kind of survival mode, at this point. You’re hungry and tired, and the last few days of your life have felt like nothing short of a nightmare.

But you’re too wrecked to even be scared anymore. It feels like a bitter seed of anger has been planted within you, and it’s slowly spreading its roots through the dirt of your agony.

“This is your home,” he reiterates, and then before you can keep arguing with him, he suddenly snaps his chair forwards. “Listen, whether you like it or not, this is—this is it, right now. Th—the best—the best thing you can do is j—is j—is just trust me right now, ok?”

You open your mouth.

Trust him?

Trust a murderer, a kidnapper—a criminal who’s done God-knows what else to innocent people? Trust the person who’s responsible for dragging you into this whole mess in the first place?

You close your mouth before you can keep arguing. Before you can upset him any further.

And when he sees you silently going back to eating, he sighs, deflating a little.

“I know…” he quietly hesitates, his voice low, “I know this seems… like a bit of a mess right now. I know… I know you don’t—don’t really understand anything. And—and I know it must be—must be pretty jarring t—to wake up in a house with—with people who won’t even show you their—their—show you their face.”

You, again, don’t indulge him with an answer. You don’t even lift your eyes up to look at him.

“But… but you have to trust me. Please… please trust me.”

He’s begging.

It finally has you lifting your gaze to look at him, but you still can’t read him through the mask.

He might as well be sneering at you right now, and you’d have no way of knowing.

How could you ever trust him?

“Toby…” you reluctantly start, “I dont... I'm not whatever you're looking for,” you reiterate. “I—" you shake your head, searching for the right way to phrase your thoughts. “You have the wrong person…”

He’s quiet for a moment.

His shoulder jerks and twitches, and he whistles that one note you'd previously heard him whistle, but he otherwise stays silent.

You wish you knew what he was thinking. You wish you knew what the hell was going on.

“I know you don’t understand,” he starts, spelling out every syllable like he’s choosing his words very carefully. “But you’re… you’re exactly what I—what we've been looking for."

You feel sick.

You push the food away.

“I—I’m not—“ you shake your head again, pursing your lips. “I—I don’t know anything. I lied about knowing the neighbour—I don’t know anything about her, or about the secrets she kept, or—or anything at all. I was just trying to save my skin, I—“

You shake your head again, at a complete loss for words.

And then eventually, all you say is, “I promise I won’t say a word about any of this if you just bring me back.”

He hesitates.

And then, finally, he answers, his voice strained, just barely above a whisper.

“There’s... there's no going back anymore.”

[000000-000000-000000]

Bite the Hand (Brian Thomas/Hoodie x Reader)

f!reader, pre-established relationship, angsty (a lil) smut, slapping, spitting, degradation, creampie, he's an asshole in this one lol

1.6k words

You don’t even know how it started.

Something small. A wrong word, a wrong tone, a wrong look. Maybe it was just a long day for the both of you, or maybe it was just a spark that blew up the fuse to something bigger and unaddressed, festering under the pretense of love and thrill.

Now, your cracking shouts are echoing through the pacing of his boots on the floorboards of your shared cabin, every footfall louder, more forced, angrier and just barely held together.

“Fuck you, Brian!” Your voice cracks, but you don’t care. “You think you can just—just control me? Just tell me to sit here like some fucking dog while you go around killing and—"

His laugh is sharp, humorless, mean. “Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

It feels like years of patience and understanding are being flushed down the drain when you stare back up at him, teeth creaking in your mouth under the force of your jaw, just trying to be reasonable, to calm yourself down, to—

He just fucking scoffs at you, all dismissive and mocking, and that's really all it takes for you to finally snap.

You lunge to shove him, hard enough to make him stumble back a step. Not enough to really move him, but enough to challenge him.

The second his eyes drop to yours, you know it’s over. You feel your hands run cold—not with fear, but a feeling of impending something.

He steps forward. You don’t move. He grabs you—yanks you into him, fingers digging into your jaw, squeezing until your lips part in a sharp gasp. His other hand grips the back of your neck, holding you there, keeping you still.

“Try it again,” he mutters, voice low, calm—too calm.

So you do.

You slap him across the face in a moment of adrenaline and instinct, your palm stinging with the force you put into the strike.

His breath catches. His head turns just slightly from the impact.

But then he’s just laughing again—just a soft little huff as he shifts his jaw, drags his tongue across his teeth—and slaps you back.

It’s sharp, quick, more shocking than painful. But it makes your knees buckle, makes your breath hitch, makes something inside you snap all over again.

You’re on him before you realize it.

Grabbing, clawing, biting at his lip when he crashes his mouth against yours. His hand is already around your throat, squeezing, pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“You wanna fight me, sugar?” he murmurs, lips brushing yours, breath warm and slow, too calm when he starts tightening his grip, pushing down your windpipe. “That what you want?”

You don’t answer. You can't find the words or the breath to.

So his hand slips up to your jaw in a brusque movement that pushes your head into the wall, fingers digging into the muscles of your cheeks to pry your mouth open, before he spits straight down the back of your throat.

And you fucking moan.

His grin is razor-sharp and knowing, mocking tone in his voice. “Yeah. That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

Before you have the chance to swallow the spit that's trickling down your throat, he’s moving—yanking you around, bending you over the couch, pressing his weight against your back as his fingers shove into your mouth again.

“Bite,” he mutters, voice rough, wrecked. “Bite down, bitch, swear to fuckin' God, I dare you.”

But you don’t. You can’t.

Not when he’s got his other hand between under your pants, two fingers dragging through the humiliating slickness pooled in your panties, rubbing, teasing, slapping your clit just to hear you gasp.

“Talk all that shit,” he breathes, pulling his fingers away, undoing his belt with one hand. “And you’re this wet?”

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t give you a second to process before he shoves your pants down, before he’s inside you and bottoming out in one brutal thrust, before he’s gripping the back of your neck and fucking you open.

It’s raw. Messy. Filthy. It's the only flicker of familiarity still daring to keep you wanting it.

He’s slapping your ass, your face, your clit, leaving red-hot stings in his wake, laughing like the fucking asshole he is when you flinch and cry out but still grind your ass back into him like you fucking need it. No words. No tenderness. Just raw, blistering rage channeled into every relentless thrust, into the way he presses his hand between your shoulder blades to arch your back deeper, into the way he keeps your hair in a tight fist, forcing your head down into the cushions, cock bruising your cervix like he's trying to break you.

“Look at you,” he groans, voice shaking, movements getting sloppy. “Thought you were mad at me, sweetheart, you like being dicked down by a murderer? You're—fucking sick."

You can’t answer or spit anything back at him. Just clawing at the surface beneath you, gasping, moaning, tears slipping down your cheeks from the sheer intensity of it.

And when you come—hard, helpless, body clenching, shaking, squeezing around his cock so tight you feel like you might snap it inside you—he pulls you up, hand still around your throat, mouth against your ear as he growls—

“Stupid fucking bitch."

And fuck, you don't know whether to be hurt or flutter around his cock again.

Your body is limp against him, still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but Brian doesn’t let up. Not even a little.

His grip stays tight around your throat, his chest pressed to your back, his cock still buried inside you, twitching, pulsing. His breath is ragged, uneven, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

But he doesn’t.

His hand slips lower—smears spit and sweat across your collarbone before wrapping around your jaw again, forcing your head to the side, straining the muscles in your neck. His lips are right against your cheek, his voice dripping with some kind of threat, or promise.

“You done?”

You should be. You should tap out, should give up this fight that, if you're being honest with yourself, you don't even remember where it started. He made his point, you proved it, it should end here.

But you don’t.

Instead, you laugh. A breathless, shaky little thing—half a moan, half a challenge. "Eat my shit, Hoodie." You spit it out with venom like it's some slur. And shit, you see it as one.

He stills behind you, almost long enough to make you shiver in anticipation.

Then?

He spits in your mouth again, and before you can have a reaction to it, his palm cracks across your face again, far harder this time. Angrier.

Your head snaps to the side, cheek burning, ears ringing—and your body responds. A full-body shudder, a sharp pulse of pleasure between your legs, a whimper that you can’t swallow down fast enough.

Hoodie fucking growls.

“Ohh, you love this, don’t you?” His fingers dig into your jaw, smearing the spit across your lips. “Love bein’ treated like a fucking whore?”

Your moan is answer enough.

His hand moves down—pushing between your thighs, feeling the mess there, groaning when he realizes you’re still soaking.

Then he pulls out.

You whimper at the emptiness, at the loss of him, but it doesn’t last long—because he flips you onto your back, yanks your legs apart, and slaps his cock against your cunt, making a filthy, wet smack echo through the room before spitting down over your clit.

You barely have time to react before his hand cracks down over it, making you jerk—legs snapping shut on instinct, body twitching from the sharp jolt of pain and overstimulation.

Hoodie grins, dark and sharp. “Sensitive?”

You nod frantically, panting, eyes glazed, body barely holding itself together.

He shoves your legs back open.

“Too fuckin’ bad.”

Then he’s inside you again, all the way, his hips slamming against yours, forcing you to take every brutal inch of him. Harder. Faster. Meaner.

He fucks you hard, deep, pounding into you like he’s got something to prove. Like he owns you. Like he wants to ruin you.

And fuck, maybe he does. Maybe this is weighing on him more than he lets on.

He slaps your face again, with the back of his hand this time, gently—just enough to make you open your mouth.

He spits right onto your tongue again, knuckles then lightly smacking up into your chin to close your mouth.

“Swallow.”

You do, so fucking readily, lips parting again like you're just waiting for another.

That’s what fucking breaks him. Even now, with your cheeks reddened by his hands, with this argument feeling like a detrimental crack in your dynamic, you still take what he gives you, still milk his cock with every thrust, still look up at him like you're ready to be fucked within an inch of your life.

His grip turns bruising, punishing. His rhythm stutters. His moans turn into deep, desperate groans, his breath catching, his fingers digging into your ass as he loses it, his release violent.

He slams deep—so fucking deep it knocks the air from your lungs—and comes inside you, filling you with thick, angry spurts of cum, grinding through it, making sure you feel it.

And when it’s done, when you’re both ruined, breathless, spent?

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, voice low, raw, wrecked, so deceitfully gentle it gives you fucking whiplash.

“…Still mad at me, sugar?”

[somnambuletta]

shotgun (mdni 🔞)

(implied continuation of sex scene, minor fondling, grinding, making out in brian's tetanus feeding-ground of a truck.)

the truck is older than sin, and twice as mean.

the seats are torn; gutted down the middle with stuffing spilling out like something killed. the dashboard is cracked, the vents cough dust instead of air, and the whole thing reeks of smoke, oil, and something tangy- sharp. like metal. like blood, maybe.

you don't care. not when brian is kissing you like this- hoodie bunched in your fists, the fabric old, fraying at the seams. you don't care about that, either. you're hauling him closer, dragging yourself into his lap because the space between you is wrong- unbearable, and his hands- god, his hands- are already moving. grabbing at the meat of your thighs, pulling you down onto him.

the truck groans under your weight. the suspension is shit- the doors don't lock. the radio crackles every time it sings- the windows are fogged up, dripping with condensation, sweat pooling at the base of your spine because it's hot in here. it's humid- it's suffocating, it's--

"fuck," he breaths against your mouth, voice shredded and guttural. a beast defeated by something that lodges pinpricks in its throat. his hands- large and rough- dig into your hips, dragging you closer until your knees are crammed into the metal bearings of the two-seaters backing, heels grazing your sides in aerobic cramps. the pressure makes your head snap back- lips parting on a sharp inhale.

brian follows. of course, he follows.

his mouth finds your throat, teeth scraping over skin, his breath hot, damp, near drooling against your jugular. a hand slips up, fingers spreading over your back, palm pressing hard between your shoulder blades to keep you exactly where he wants you.

you roll your hips down- slow, teasing. the noise that leaves his throat is barely earthen.

"don't", he warns. you do it again, and his fingers tighten. pressure a promise- a remonstrance, whatever it may be.

"don't play with me, swee'eart", he mutters against your skin, voice-drawled, smoke-wrapped and a husk of southern lilting. you grin, tongue swiping over teeth like doe testing for peril. "ah.. who says i'm playin'?"

brian’s eyes flick to your mouth, watching you lather your teeth, and the air thickens between you. his hand flexes against your thigh—just barely. but it’s enough to make your breath catch, to make you feel the weight of his gaze like a weight on your chest.

"not playin', huh?" his voice is softer now, but still low, dangerous—a whispering edge to it. "you sure 'bout that, darlin'?"

the pet name drips from his tongue, slow and syrupy, just to watch you react. his other hand ghosts over your waist, dragging light enough to make your skin prickle. "see?" he murmurs, "i think you like bein' smart. you love this game, don'tcha?" his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, grazing bare skin, and he clicks his tongue when he feels you shiver.

"ohhh— there it is.. sweet thing, you’re shakin'.."

your breath stutters. you want to snap at him, to tell him to stop teasing, but brian can see right through you.

"wound up 'lready." he exhales a quiet laugh, almost pitying. "my poor girl. what am i gonna do with you?"

he already knows.

his touch moves slow, a deliberate torture, skimming up your ribs, just under your shirt. he’s not rushing this. no, brian likes to draw it out, to make you feel every second of his attention- infatuation dragging his fingertips along your skin to pick up distinctive evidence. his nose brushes your jaw as he leans in, voice dipping low, mocking. "ya' wanted my attention, didn't you?"

fingers trail higher, teasing the side of your breast, never quite touching, never quite giving you what you need. you push up into his touch, trying to silently beg, but he just chuckles. "desperate," he murmurs, lips barely brushing your skin.

"y'know, i could keep this up all night. just sit 'ere and watch you fall 'part." his thumb finally, finally ghosts over your mammilla, through the thin fabric of your shirt. "and god, you’d let me, wouldn’t ya'?"

you puff, hand joggling up to catch his wrist- albeit he catches yours instead, thumb pressing against your pulse with a famine in his drooping gaze. "ah-ah", he tuts - "where's that fire, swee'eart? you were so damn bold a second 'go." his grip softens, dragging your palms down, forcing them to rest against his stomach. "now look at'cha. all quiet."

brian's hands return to their slow, maddening exploration- fingers dancing down the sides of your ribcage, creeping up the front of your eggshell splotched tank top. he grips the fabric, polyester pulling higher, inch by inch. "see how long that lasts, hm?"

you swallow hard, and he tilts his head, watching you through hooded eyes that look too damn sinful with the grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "yeah," he murmurs, "you love this. think you love it when i talk ya' through it, too" the grin finally breaks into something devilish- jaw tight, but gums stretching as he drags his knuckles over your navel. "bet it gets you all dumb, huh?"

you could deny it- tell him he's full of shit, that he's by far the most egotistical prick you've ever met- hormone incarnate, constantly flirting with testosterone. but your body betrays you- breath hitching, thighs squeezing the sides of his own with a growing discomfort that is beginning to make itself all too present. and he eats it up.

"c'mon baby." his voice drops to something low, molten and seeping. seeping.

"tell me how bad ya' want it."

[c1nnam00n]

me tweaking out trying to find that one good fanfic

[rainrot4me]

Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry... Characters in this story are not canonical!

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can. 

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong. 

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore. 

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too. 

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips. 

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously. 

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat. 

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body. 

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching. 

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest. 

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying. 

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot. 

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine. 

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute. 

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead. 

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager. 

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously. 

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage. 

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing? 

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

-

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing. 

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously. 

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least. 

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while. 

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary. 

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences. 

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

-

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes. 

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs. 

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement. 

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you. 

-

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t. 

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head. 

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing. 

-

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans. 

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement. 

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next. 

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down. 

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours. 

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now. 

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try. 

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them. 

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly. 

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers. 

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight. 

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands. 

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you. 

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other. 

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out. 

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him. 

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly. 

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked. 

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

-

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast. 

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. 

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[hotsexyemogirl77]

╭──────────── ╰─➛✎﹏ | nsfw headcanons ! .°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

incl. jeff the killer, ticci toby, masky, hoodie, eyeless jack, ben drowned

18+ | minors dni

❦.♱ʚ♡ɞ♱❦

jeff the killer

" you look so pretty wrapped around my cock. you're such a whore for me, i'm gonna fuck you dumb "

-filthy mouth ,,, he's so graphic in bed

-always lets you know how good you feel around him <3

-he loooves watching your face

-his favourite position is definitely either missionary or when you ride him

-he loves face fucking i'm sorry he loves watching you take all of him

-likes watching you cough and tear up too

- big on degrading

-he loves edging either you're doing it

to him or he's doing it to you he goes crazy for it

-mean and dominate but he will never deny you pleasure

-you'd have to beg for it first though

-loves finishing on your face and chest

-loves being noisy he does NOT care if anybody hears you two

ticci toby

" fuuck, keep clenching around me like that, i promise i'm gonna fill you up so good just give me one more ok ¿ "

- he wants to be a dad sooooo bad (he wants to see you pregnant with his seed)

- crazy stamina he's at LEAST going 2 LONG rounds

- munch ™ but he likes loves to be all up in there. like All over down there

- very messy

- loves the idea of his and your fluids mixing together

- speaking of, he loves hearing the slick sticky sounds from them mixing

- lowkey kinda sick LMAO

- doesn't know where to keep his hands he's all over you

- he loves finishing down your throat or inside you (if you'll let him of course)

- his favourite position is doggy or reverse cowgirl

- switch dom leaning for sure

masky

" shut your mouth or i'll give you something to shut it with, i wont be bothered to be nice either about it sweetheart "

- if you think jeff was mean you have another thing coming honey </3

- big sadist

- wether him marking you up or him spanking you he's doing it all

- he especially likes spanking your ass

- he like seeing you in any position where he's in control

- likes spitting

- doesn't matter if you spit on him or vice versa he's into it

- hard dom loves seeing you so helpless for him

- likes seeing you cry or tear up

- likes the idea of handcuffs in bed

- rough and mean for sure but he knows when he's taking it too far

hoodie

" such a pretty thing for me, im sorry for being so mean you just look so good begging for me down there "

- likes head a little too much

- loves to see you begging or yknow, just on your knees for him

- sooo cocky

- he likes any position he can see your face in he has no preference for it

- likes gagging you but he rewards you for being such a doll about it <3

- he likes receiving more than giving but he likes seeing his partner happy

- he will do it because he likes returning the favour (he likes when you pull his hair)

- lowkey a masochist but he won't say it out loud

- he likes being bitten, marked up ect

- likes seeing your expressions while fucking, his favourite is when he first slips it in

- and when your eyes shut or roll back during it

- hard/service dom

eyeless jack

" look at you, so needy for me, if you ask nicely i'll give you what you want and more"

- loves the every sound you make

- every moan, whimper, cry ect

- big on telling him yourself what you want from him

- he gets a power trip from it

- doesn't make much sound aside from talking

- grunting, growling and heavy breather

- LOVES 69-ing and missionary

- loves marking you up either from hickeys or bite marks

- especially in places others can see them too

- likes keeping his hands your hips

- loves setting the pace

- service top/dom

ben drowned

" fuck yeah just like that angel, please don't stop you feel so good around me like that "

- switch sub leaning

- LOVES when you're on top

- whimpering ,,, and whining ,,

- he like cumming either anywhere on you or down your throat

- he begs a lot without having to ask

- very very eager to please you

- despite all that he can have his more dominate moments too

- loves doggy or literally just bending you over his desk

- LOVES LOVES LOVES biting, scratching, hickeys ect

- goes crazy when it's happening either way tbh

- loses it when you pull his hair it gets him so hard so fast

- likes to tell you how good you feel and are and vice versa call him a good boy

- loves under the desk support

[lordprettyflackotara]

freaky friday || the proxies

“Son of a bitch, stop being greedy and pass the fuckin thing.”

Masky’s voice was sharp and annoyed, his patience growing thin. Hoodie lifted his head up from in between your thighs, his warm tongue abandoning your cunt to pass Masky the blunt they had bought from Ben. Your head currently laid on the brunettes lap, his cock aching in his jeans as Hoodie resumed devouring your sex. The Operator had begun making drug restrictions at the mansion, deciding that after a violent coked out rage from Jeff, no resident would be allowed to consume any substances at all. Normally you and the boys attempted to be decent servants, following the mansion rules. But as proxies you see and do a lot of fucked up shit, the kind that only sex and drugs can fix. So every Friday like clockwork you all agreed to release your pent up stress, by smoking and fooling around.

It was Hoodie’s idea to mix the two, his tongue teasingly poking at your entrance. The sickeningly sweet smell of weed flooded your nostrils as Masky inhaled the beloved blunt, exhaling the smoke out of the open window. Hoodie was in heaven in between your thighs, abruptly shoving two fingers inside of you. You gasped, your hips bucking upwards. Masky glanced down at you, flicking the ash out of the window. He smirked as he looked down at you, your mouth fallen open as Hoodie curled his long fingers inside of you. “You want me to pass this to Hoodie or can you handle smoking it at the same time princess?” Masky snickered. Hoodie could feel your walls flutter around his digits at Masky’s mocking. The four of you were all sadistic, but the blonde knew you thoroughly enjoyed being knocked down a peg or two. He purposefully went faster, reattaching his lips to your clit. With a determined stare and a shaky hand you grabbed the blunt from Masky, weakly inhaling as your eyes fluttered shut with euphoria. You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, Hoodie always quick to make you cum so overstimulating you would be easy. You could feel the weed circulating around your lungs as your head tilted back against Masky, his gloved hand finding your hair.

You exhaled the smoke into the air carelessly, your spare hand pawing at Masky’s jacket for support. “Awe you’re adorable princess. Gonna cum already? We haven’t even taken our dicks out yet,” Masky teased. Hoodie grinned into your folds as he abused your g spot, his tongue swirling around your clit. The brunette could tell you were about to cum, sneakily grabbing the blunt to allow you to ride out your high. The cord inside of you snapped, your thighs trembling as you came on Hoodie’s face. Your heart was pounding, your eyes fluttered shut as Masky nonchalantly moved some stray hairs out of your face. He would never admit it, but he cared for you more than he let on. It was then you could hear the bedroom door open before quickly shutting again. “S-Shit did I miss her first orgasm?” Toby asked, throwing his axes onto the carpet. Hoodie emerged from your cunt, a glorious smile painted across his lips as your juices coated his chin. Masky handed him the blunt, Toby shoving off his goggles. “Dont worry kid, I think she deserves many more tonight. Just for being our good little princess,” Masky replied, mockingly grabbing your cheek and shaking it. Hoodie exhaled as he handed Toby the blunt. The blonde looked down at you, his eyes full of lust.

“Cmon princess why don’t you get down on your knees and see if you can suck three cocks at once, hmm?”

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Y/N: You need to be careful!

Helen, who was dragged into Y/N’s issue: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

[imauthicktic]

I’m in the works of stuff but need motivation 🤪 might post some of my incorrect quotes too

[bingobongocheerio]

(Y/N): I'm drinking again tonight.

Jane: Haha, I thought you were over drinking?

(Y/N): That was the old me.

Jane: It's been 2 hours (Y/N)...

[junabuggy]

Ticci Toby headcanons⁉️

A/n: Back and writing for my childhood crush?? Yes, yes I am.

Warnings: None !!

──★ ˙ ̟ 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?

🪓☆ Bro LOVES animals and insects, especially the ones that most people dislike

🪓☆ Such as centipedes, millipedes, possums, raccoons, snakes, beetles (especially weevils omg) and spiders + many many more

🪓☆ MIDWESTERN EMO BOY!! Guys PLEASE just look at him it makes sense

🪓☆ He has a few freckles and moles :33

🪓☆ The type of person who’s kinda quiet until you get to know him, grows more comfortable with you over time :P

🪓☆ He can be kind of a sarcastic jerk sometimes though ngl 😭

🪓☆ NOT a morning person

🪓☆ Hypersexual

🪓☆ Plus due to his CIPA it’s one of the few things he actually can feel.

🪓☆ Likes to go on walks. And I’m talking HOURRR LONG ONES

🪓☆ Toby’s love language is for sure either quality time or physical touch 💯💯

🪓☆ Besties with Jeff and Jane and is like an annoying little brother to Masky

🪓☆ He’s pansexual !! If there’s a hole there’s a goal 🙏

🪓☆ Tried to pierce his ears by himself once… Yeaaahh they got infected the next day

🪓☆ Absolute LOSER but I love him dearly so it’s alright <3

🪓☆ Waffle jokes and whatever aside, he enjoys both waffles and pancakes equally, not really much of a preference there.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[fattuccini-afraido]

Y/N: This is too hot, I can't eat this.

Jeff: You're too hot and that doesn't stop me from eating you.

Helen, chokes:

Slenderman: ONE DINNER. ALL I WANT IS ONE NORMAL FUCKING DINNER.

[tryingtofindava]

OMG , OMG, Are you an expert in creepypasta, I want to give you my request If you don't mind ... May i've a request for Jeff the killer,ticcy toby , Laughing Jack ( if you write for him ) and eyeless Jack please?!

With sweet fem s/o who don't know they are serial killers and only give them affection (like kisses every day) NSFW

Preatty please, love you baby

── 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 & 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭! 𝐒/𝐎

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

INCLUDES: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, and Eyeless Jack.

srry pookie bear not touching the nsfw today :c might come back to this idea later with just NSFW tho >:)

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

You definitely caught his eyes when he first saw you, immediately taking in your sweet bubbly aura. (You were definitely on his bucket list of victims after he stalked you for a bit)

But one day, he got a little too cocky and you caught him. And to his surprise you didn’t seem to mind at all when you found this questionable looking stranger stalking around outside your bedroom window.

You’re guys difference in aesthetic in personality is what made you guys hit it off. YOU GUYS ARE THE DEFINITION OF SUNSHINE X MOON.

He thinks you’re too sweet to actually be sweet tbh, but you never fail to prove him wrong.

He’s cocky and arrogant, and the god complex on this man is UNBELIEVABLE… The only reason you’re alive in his head is because he was gracious enough to let you continue with your life. Not that he’d tell you that ofc!!

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, you’re so handsome!!”

He likes that you agree he’s beautiful for sure. (He fishes for compliments all the time, anything to stroke his ego.)

He’s possessive, and borderline obsessive. You’re his. And that’s that.

He takes you where he wants, when he wants. The woods? Yep. The shitty convenience store toilets? Double yep yep. Anywhere you guys could get caught in general? YUP.

Double life points because you don’t even know he’s a literal serial killer, like, even though all the signs and red flags are there.

When you guys started to date, he did soften up a bit, not as cruel and mean. But only a little bit. He LIVES for the surprise kisses.

Typa guy who’d ask ‘where’s my hug at?’

╰┈➤𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

This boy THRIVES off how sweet you are, it all works in his favour really. Your house is like his hide out spot, away from his… ‘work’ and honestly just everything.

You’re his safe space. His home.

He does think you’re a bitty dull though, and he often wonders how long his ‘I’m a hunter’ excuse will work.

He’d try his very hardest to keep you a secret from the others, but his Tourette’s to make him tic and stutter out your name and nicknames. Which definitely raises some questions on who this ‘Y/n’ and ‘Schatz’ is.

“A-a-and then he- Y/n- fuh-fuck…”

Please, please, please help him through his episodes and tic attacks. He’ll cherish you forever and ever. (He already did but it’s set in stone now.)

He likes that you’re nice to him, he feels so super duper special that he’s getting love and affection, him! Of all ppl!! (poor boy just needs some loving yall)

He’s ECSTATIC when you guys start to date, he’s not very experienced since he’s only dated Clockwork (my beloved) BUT HE’S A FAST LEARNER AND PICKS UP ON EVERYTHING QUICKLY!! ^^

He was so super shocked when you started giving him little kisses here and there, and it soon becomes a game of who can get the most surprise kisses in a day. (He’s proper pouncing on you to get to ur neck)

╰┈➤ 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤

When you guys first met, it was around 9pm. It was dark outside, the street lamps Turing on one by one. We’re carrying home some grocery bags, and when you bumped into a tall, dark and mysterious man with an eerie mask… you immediately compliment his cosplay.

“Ohhh, cool cosplay!!”

“What…?”

Okiii, so anyways you guys are dating now<3

He’s a sneaky one for sure, out of him, Toby and Jeff, he’s the best at keeping what he does a secret. Not that’d you’d notice either way but… yh.

He’s a possessive bastard like Jeff though, he worries about how sweet you are to everyone, he’d hate if someone were to upset you or even worse, hurt you… (And if they do he’d take care of them for you)

He likes that you don’t question his grey skin, empty eye sockets, the sharp teeth, 3 tongues, and ESPECIALLY the tar dripping from where his eyes should be. Less work for him to make up excuses.

But, that doesn’t stop you from questioning his eating habits…

Always questioning him and lecturing him of he shouldn’t feast on raw ‘animals’. Yeah… you bet your ass he’s not telling you about the cannibal or demon thing. And it’s gonna stay like that.

You’re too sweet and pure to him to be revealed to the horrors that is himself. How he longs to be in a universe with you were he can be normal so you guys could live the white picket fence life style.

But, he doesn’t get that. But at least he gets you all to himself, demon or not.

He’s more stunned by your surprise kisses against his mask, but he does find it adorable, how couldn’t he? The way you lean up on your tippy toes with puckered lips. He can’t help himself but slide his mask up and take you right then and there.

wowee was this long, can u tell I had to get this out of my system:3