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mrstobyrogers · 2 months ago

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Behind Closed Doors

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

WC: 12.8k

Summary: Toby Rogers was an enigma around campus. He didn’t speak much, he barely socialized, and he always - always - kept to himself. Who knew it would just take a bit of drunken confidence at a college party to find out what he’s like behind closed doors?

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, Toby is an asshole, and also a little shit, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, low-key exhibitionism, biting and marking, semi-clothed sex, vaginal fingering, wet and messy, they’re both so desperate, seven minutes in heaven trope lmfao, forced proximity, wall sex, low-key degradation, Toby’s just a bit mean, creampie, a smidgen of dacryphilia, a smidgen of salirophilia, dom/sub undertones kind of, some possessive behaviour on Toby’s part

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

“So what? W-We just gonna have a staring contest for the next s-seven minutes?”

The closet you stand in is small and stuffy. One singular dim lightbulb hangs above you, flickering and seemingly moments from death. Hot, claustrophobic, barely any room to properly stretch your legs out amongst all of the boots and coats piled up around you. It’s a squeeze for one person, for sure, but of course - you weren’t in here alone.

Toby Rogers stands parallel to you, shrinking back against the opposite wall like he was trying in earnest to phase through it. Even in the dim lighting you can tell his face is flushed, gaze locked on yours with you trying to avoid it as he shifts and twitches in place. Feet knocking against yours every time he tried to move and get comfortable. But, it was in vain. There was no getting comfortable in a situation like this - that was the whole point, after all.

About an hour ago, you would’ve laughed at the prospect of something like this. You had been slipping through the threshold of the house party you had been invited to, already tired, but looking forward to this little break from the hectic schedule your college degree forced upon you. You weren’t a party girl, per se, but you liked to indulge every now and then. Like to let yourself just be dumb and uninhibited for a night, before turning your brain back on in the morning.

It was the chaos of it that drew you in. The music loud enough that it begged for a noise complaint, the air around you thick with laughter and the smell of sweat. Hot, sticky. Bodies sliding against one another as you shoved through a doorway to get into the kitchen. The soles of your boots sticking to the tile floors, like you were peeling layers off of it with each step. So much noise, you could barely even get a single thought in through the disorder. That was how you liked it, though. That’s the reason you had even come here, after all.

You downed a drink quicker than you should’ve, and took one for the road before you began scoping out your surroundings. The lights were low on purpose, you knew that. It was easier to make a fool out of yourself when your features could barely even be made out. Combined with blurry vision from the liquor flowing, it was like a mask. A fog of partial anonymity - so that you could brush everything off once the sun rose again. Despite all that, though, you could still make out a few familiar faces as you squint through the crowd. Some you liked, some you didn’t. Some you knew well, some only in passing or from sharing a class together.

But, previous relationships didn’t quite matter in a setting like this, and you knew that. Out of all scenarios, this was the one to put past baggage aside. To spark up a conversation with an absolute stranger like you’d known them for years. That was the point of this, after all. To break down those barriers, to wash away your fears and reservations with each drop of liquor down your throat.

It was a way to be someone else, if you really wanted to be.

And some people were better at that than others. You were always a people watcher, but a situation like this just made it all the more entertaining. The drunk girl giggling and tripping over her own feet, with a hoard of ill-intentioned frat guys watching on - oh so elated to be the one to break her fall. The desperate guy, thinking he’s got his plans for the night locked down, too hazy to see the agonizingly bored expression on the face of the girl he’s talking to. The messy type, the confrontational type. The ones who looked like they didn’t even want to be here.

That’s exactly what he looked like, when your eyes honed in on a far off corner of the room.

Leaned against the wall, with a mop of curly brown haired frizzing up from the heat within the space you both stood in. Drowning in the oversized hoodie he wore, hems frayed and worn at the edges. Not as bad as the jeans he wore, though, which were ripped to shreds at the knees - exposing skin that was scarred and bruised. The fingers curled around the solo cup he held were much the same. Bandaged up and trembling. So was his face. His left cheek mostly covered up by a large plaster, his jaw set. Stubble trickling across his jawline as he ground his teeth together. Even under the low lights, you can see how dark the circles under his eyes are, but they frame the warmest brown eyes you might’ve ever seen.

Long fluttering lashes. Freckles speckling the bridge of his nose and down onto his pale cheeks. The glint of metal pierced through his nose and lip.

You knew him. Toby Rogers.

Well, maybe ‘knew‘ was an overstatement. You knew of him. Saw him often, but never sparked up a conversation. Mostly because he lived his entire life like he was right now. Closed off. Quiet. On the fringe of every gathering he found himself privy to.

He sat at the back of one of your classes. Always showed up late, always left early. Always popped his headphones in right away, drowning out the lecture as he scribbled away in the little notebook he always kept on him. It made you wonder about him, more often than not. Why he even attended the class, if he showed a complete lack of effort. How he was even passing? What he was jotting down, because you sure as hell knew they weren’t notes. What music he had blaring in his ears. Why he always skipped out on the full duration of the lesson.

He was an enigma. Everyone you had asked felt the exact same way. It didn’t take long for you to find out that Toby was just… like that. It didn’t matter the setting, or who he was with. A few words at a time at most, that’s all anyone had ever gotten out of him.

And maybe it was your curiosity reaching its boiling point after so many weeks of speculating. Maybe, it was that he just looked so agonizingly lonely. Not just right now, but always. Constantly solitary. You wanted to know if that was intentional, or just a product of his brusque demeanour.

And well, what better situation to find out?

He doesn’t catch your gaze. Not once as you wriggle your way through a hoard of sweaty bodies, most of which halfway to fucking right before your very eyes. You barely even bat an eye, sliding through the sea of sweat-slick bodies with a one track mind - your sights laser focused on the man hunched against the chipped paint on the wall, looking like being here was driving him to the brink of death. Wincing a little every time he took a swig of his drink, his nose crinkling up as he tried to suppress it.

Why was he even here? You ask yourself as you approach, your own drink going warm as the heat from your palm permeates through the plastic of the solo cup. Fuelled by the singular drink swirling through your veins, mixed stronger than you would’ve usually taken it. The fact that he wouldn’t look up was as endearing as it was irritating. He just looked so lost, so out of place. Gazing out at the party goers like a window shopper. Lips tugged down into a perpetual frown, his expression wrinkling in distaste every time his shoulders twitched or jerked.

You felt like you were approaching a scared animal. Hasty steps, slowing the closer you got to him. Slower, slower, one foot after another. Trying to school your expression, though your nerves were crawling up your throat and closing it up. You weren’t quite sure why you were so nervous. Sure, he was the textbook definition of unapproachable, but you doubted you’d leave this situation with anything more than a bruised ego.

And you’ve lived through that before. Time and time again.

You wrack your brain over and over again. File through your repositories of conversation starters at lighting speed as you encroach on the little bubble he had formed around himself. With your lungs tight and your heart in your throat, all of your efforts are null, because all you’re able to come up with is-

“Hey. Toby, right?” And you’d swear you dropped a bomb right at his feet. He flinches like you’d screamed at him, his whole body going rigid as his head whipped towards you at an almost painful looking speed. You hear his cup crinkle under his fingers when his grip tightens, see the look of absolute bewilderment etched into his features as he stared back at you with wide eyes. Not just observing you, but breaking you down. Eyes scanning across your face like he was trying to decode you, like you had offended him by daring to speak to him at a social event of all things.

He doesn't speak. Not a single word. Not even gracing you with a greeting as he stood before you, shoulders rigid and jaw tense. It’s almost enough to put you off completely. Almost enough to have you spinning on your heel without another word slipping off of your tongue. But, you stand your ground. Try your absolute hardest not to completely shrink under his scrutinizing gaze, though the weight of it was making your skin crawl.

He looked at you like you weren’t supposed to be here. Like coming close to him was breaking some sort of law.

And you know it shouldn’t, but it just fuels this sick little fascination that had been brewing inside you. Made you crave the moment when you finally cracked him. So, you push. “You.. You’re in one of my classes, yeah? Ecom, I’m pretty sure.”

You keep your tone soft, light, like raising it even an octave would ruin this all. Stood before this growling dog, just waiting for him to snap and break free from his leash. You don’t know what you’re expecting, really. For him to curse you out and tell you to leave him alone. Maybe just more stony silence, complete dismissal as he turns his head and brushes you off completely.

He doesn’t do either of those things though - but to be honest, what you do get isn’t much better.

“Y-Yeah, and?” His words come out dryer than a desert, eyes narrowing in a way that makes your gut pinch. Like you were stupid for even trying.

And you might just be, but that might also be an advantage for you here. You were stupid enough to try. Stupid enough to keep going, even when he was giving you every sign to just back off and give up. Stupid enough to hope, that this bitter nature was just shrouding something sweeter beneath it.

Stupid enough to have your heart leaping at the sound of his voice - low and raspy. Quiet enough that you have to strain a bit to hear it. But it's more than you’ve ever gotten from him, and it sinks deep into your veins. It circulates in your blood like a toxin, winds its way up to your brain and makes itself at home.

You needed to hear more of it. You knew that for certain.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you.” You speak back to him, taking another step closer. Toby notes that, his eyebrow twitching minutely as you just creep in closer and closer. Hopping over the walls he built up like it was your right. “I never had the chance to, though.”

“Y-You wanted to talk to m-me?” His tone is almost incredulous, and he’s eyeing you like he’s waiting for you to pull the rug out from under him. Disbelieving. Like it's all an elaborate prank. So on edge, you can see his jaw tremble when you take another step towards him. It’s not enough to be something inappropriate - still a few feet between the two of you as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Cheeks flushed, skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat that had accumulated from the balmy atmosphere.

Not drunk, though, even though that’s what he had originally assumed when you had waltzed up to him. Maybe a little tipsy, but not enough to be unaware of what you were doing or saying. That’s what had him so tense. That you weren’t just seeking him out because you were another drunk girl stumbling over to the first guy you laid eyes on. You were here for him, and that was scary to someone like him.

Someone who tried his very hardest to keep himself invisible. Never speaking more than he needed to so that he never gave anything away. Hastening his way back home before anyone had the chance to catch him. Keeping himself in the corner, in the back, where he was easily glossed over.

Not to you, though. You had noticed him.

“Yeah, you.” You hum back to him softly, tilting your head to the side a little. “But you’ve never given me the chance. You’re pretty unapproachable, you know.”

That almost gets a smile out of him. Almost. Just a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips. He hides it well, but what he can’t hide is the look in his eyes. You see how they soften in amusement, how the warmth floods into those deep brown irises. Glinting under the low light, sparkling with underlying emotion you can’t quite place.

It’s curiosity. Intrigue. That’s the only way he could think to put it as he stared down at you. This cute little thing, all sweet and unassuming. Hair sticking to your forehead, your makeup smearing in the creases of your eyes. Trying to hide your nerves, but he can see it clear as day how anxious you are. Gritting your teeth to keep from cowering before him, your voice wobbling on the end of each word.

Like a scared little deer.

And what did that make him, then? The hunter? Staring down at you through the lens of his scope?

“That might be on p-purpose, y’know.” He mutters back to you, quirking an eyebrow as he leans back further against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest, the cup he holds dangling precariously near his hip. “ I’m not exactly a p-people person.” His gaze sweeps down your body, head to toe, watching the way you shift from one foot to the other. “You sh-shoulda picked up on that.”

“I did.” You murmur back to him, taking in a deep breath before lifting your hand to take a swig from your drink. You needed it more than ever right now. The burn of the liquor sizzles in your throat, but it’s a welcome distraction from the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. “But, then why are you here? This isn’t exactly the place for introverts.”

Toby hums softly, thinking on his answer for a moment as he reaches up to scratch at the stubble on his jaw. You can see it, the way he’s slowly but surely thawing. Trying to keep up his icy front, but melting under the warmth radiating from you to him.

“Felt like it.” He answers back shortly after a moment, offering you a soft shrug. “N-Needed a change of pace.”

“Oh.” You answer back, albeit a tad bit dumbly, your brain working on overtime trying to figure out the best way to keep this conversation going. “So, you didn’t get invited or anything?”

“D-Did I need to?” Toby snorts, his lips curling up into a minute little smirk. “Was on a walk, heard the c-commotion, and just waltzed on in. Pretty sure that the dipshits r-running this whole thing are too fucked up to keep track of their guest list.”

You let out a little huff of laughter, lips curling into a grin as you swirl your drink around in your cup.

“Yeah, you're probably right.”

There’s a gap in conversation after that. A moment where you’re left nervously fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt, trying your hardest to come up with something to say - all while Toby just watches you. Observes you. Not coldly anymore, instead equal parts curious and amused.

You were trying so hard. He could practically see the smoke coming out of your ears as you flipped through your thoughts, trying to find something that might just interest him.

Despite himself, he found himself endeared by it. It had been a good long while since somebody had put so much effort into him, of all people.

So, he decides to be nice. To stop torturing this poor girl in front of him, and give you some bait to latch onto. It probably wouldn’t go anywhere, and he was aware of that, but it didn’t really need to. Just having you here was enough. If all he got out of this was a few moments of toying with you, it would still have been far more excitement than he had expected when he planned his evening.

Fate, though, is a funny little thing. It listens. It hears the words you speak and the thoughts you conjure up, just to twist them into whatever sick endeavour it hopes to throw you into.

And fate might’ve just been on your side this particular evening. It gave you a push. Held your hand and guided you through the motions, rewarding you for being so brave in the first place.

The moment Toby opens his mouth to speak again, he’s cut off by a holler. A shout of your name, drunk and slurred - just barely poking out through the cacophony of voices around the two of you. You recognize it immediately, and any other time you would’ve been happy to hear it, but right now of all times your roommate’s voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard - splitting through the somewhat civil atmosphere you had managed to create between you and Toby. Her arm slinging around your shoulder feels like a noose, irritation seeping into your pores as she drunkenly nuzzles into your neck.

“Hey, chica.” You hear her giggle into your ear, her body heavy as she leans into you - all but slumping against yours as her liquor drenched breath tickles your ear. “Been lookin’ for ya.”

“Well, you found me.” You hum back to her, reaching an arm out to try and steady her as you let out a soft breath through your nose. Peering up at Toby, you notice that smirk of his has stretched wider - his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement as his gaze flickers between your less than impressed face, and the girl all but two seconds from collapsing against you.

“Just in time, too!” You feel her grin against your skin, her hands pawing at you before she finds your free hand and grasps it. “ We’re playin’ a game in Alex’s room, c’mon! You gotta be there, s’no fun without you.”

“A game?” You quirk an eyebrow at the same time Toby does, stumbling a little when she starts tugging you away without a second thought. “If it's strip poker, I’m not playing.”

“Better than that.” Her eyes are hazy when she meets yours, a dopey little grin on her face as she weakly tugs you towards her. “Seven minutes in heaven.” Her voice takes out a singsong lilt, her giggles only increasing tenfold when your face crumples in a mixture of annoyance and exasperation.

“What are we, in high school?” You scoff, but her grip on you is steadfast. Surprisingly firm, despite her sloppiness. It’s pretty clear that you’re not getting out of it, especially when she’s staring at you like you’re obligated. Besides, what kind of friend were you, if you just let her run off on her own in this state? It was just a disaster waiting to happen, and you’re not quite sure how she’s stayed in one piece so far without you.

So, you give in. With a sigh and a wrinkle in your brow, but you do.

Though, not without keeping track of your main endeavour - which had been rudely derailed. “Toby?” You shoot a glance back over at him as she tugs on your arm, your gaze almost desperate - like you just couldn’t bare to lose the minuscule progress you’d made with him. “You wanna come with?” It’s a last ditch effort, something you’re expecting to brush off with a snort and a waved hand.

And maybe he would’ve. Maybe he should’ve, but something within in is tugging him towards you as you’re pulled away. It’s that intrigue, that desire to know just exactly what you want from him. Why you were stumbling over yourself trying to reel him in.

Besides, it’s not like he had other plans. He had just expected to steal a couple drinks, then drag himself back home. He had said he was looking for a change of pace. You were offering that up on a silver platter.

“Sure.” He pushes himself off the wall with a sigh, downs the rest of his drink in one gulp before crumpling the cup in his fist and tossing it off to the side.

His body near protested the movement the moment he started following after you. Knees stiff like they were trying to stop him.

He shouldn’t let you win. He knows he shouldn’t.

Toby wasn’t one to get wrapped up in stuff like this. Messy, impulsive decisions. Following curiosity, instead of rationality. He used to, long before he had gotten the notion beat out of his skull from hundreds of less than kind situations.

Curiosity always led to a mess - one that he was less than keen to clean up.

And yet here he was, following after you, knowing it would end with a stained conscience.

His eyes trail down your form as you lead him up the stairs - your roommate clinging off of your shoulders like deadweight. The softness of your hair, despite the frizziness from the heat. The slope of your shoulders, the curve of your spine. Lower, his gaze drops to the hem of your skirt - his lower elevation giving him a good clear shot of your panties from underneath.

A lacy little thong - barely doing a thing to cover up everything that hid beneath it. Whenever you lifted a leg to climb higher up the staircase, he got an eyeful of your clothed cunt, the fabric of your underwear clinging to each dip and curve. Sheer tights sticking to your skin, thighs glistening with a thin sheen of sweat wherever they poked through the fabric.

The fat of your ass squishing against your thighs with each step, creating a crease in the flesh that made him quirk an eyebrow - a near indistinguishable smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

It’s like you wanted him to look.

A barely audible hum rumbles in his chest as he tilts his head, his eyes flickering back up your body to see if you’ve noticed the weight of his gaze on you. You hadn’t. Too preoccupied with dragging your barely coherent comrade up the stairs to even notice his eyes had been far less than respectful. You hadn’t even turned your head back to him once. He viewed that as more of an invitation than anything else.

Hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze goes straight back up your skirt - his pupils blowing right out at the sight. It was almost better the second time.

You just looked so soft. This forbidden skin before him, so supple and enticing - looking like it was made to be grabbed. Made to be bruised. Moulded to the shape of his touch, bearing speckles of red and purple that his grip pressed into you. His fingers twitch against the fabric of his jeans, tempted to just throw caution to the wind, reach out and touch. He could all but imagine the sound you’d make, the look you’d give him, the blush that would rise up on your cheeks.

Would you push him away? Berate him for it? Or would you lean into it?

You had been the one to seek him out, after all. You had been the one to invite him along with you. There had to be at least a sliver of you that wanted it, right? His hands, slipping under the soft material. Grasping, squeezing, tugging you towards him.

Why else would you want to drag him along? To talk more, like you had said?

He doubted it. But, maybe he was just far too hopeful.

It had been a long while since anyone had actually put the effort in to try and snare him. He was more used to less than passionate hookups, people who cared less about who he was or what he looked like, just so long as the night ended with full body tremors and gasped out moans.

It wasn’t something he often complained about. It got the job done - but you? You and your insistence, your desire to know him - to learn - it was thrilling in a way he hadn’t felt for god knows how long. It sparked up something low in his chest and deep in his gut. Some quietly burning flame, heating up his body from the inside out as his eyes trailed up and down your figure like you were some kind of feast to behold.

He hadn’t noticed it when you had first walked up to him - too busy trying to keep his walls resolute and intact - but now that he had long since failed at that, he was really allowing himself to appreciate this. To appreciate you. How someone as pretty as you, was tripping over your own feet to gain the attention of someone like his.

It was mind-boggling. It was addictive.

By the time you all reach the top of the staircase, there are a few drops of sweat beading up against Toby’s jaw. There’s a tension in the air he’s sure that only he can sense. Palpable desire that thrums through the air like a vibration, making the hairs on the back of his arms stand up. Goosebumps rising on the back of his neck, as if the hallway you walked down wasn’t hot and stuffy enough to suffocate.

“I’m not expecting you to play, or anything.” Your voice tugs him out of his thoughts, his eyes quickly snapping upwards just fast enough to keep him from being caught as you turn your head to look at him. Meeting his eyes with a nervous little smile on your face, the low lighting of the hallway casting shadows across all the high points of your features. “I just wanted to hang out a little longer.”

You say that so sweetly, your voice just barely disguising the anxiety that lay beneath layers and layers of false confidence. Words mostly drowned out by the vibrations of music floating through the air, but all of that was just background noise to him. You were the main focus now. Just like you had been hoping.

He cocks an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between you and your friend.

“Yeah? L-Looks like you’ve already got your ha-hands full, though.” He snorts - taking a moment to soak up the appearance of the other girl, before his eyes wander back to you. You were much more his type, and so much more composed - not falling all over yourself like half of the girls he had observed here.

You looked like the type he’d write off immediately, because he knew it’d be too tough of a challenge. You were sweet, confident, self-assured, pretty enough to make him feel hot under the collar after only a few moments of ogling. You were the type he’d stare at from across the room, his mind running with ideas of what it would be like if he somehow managed to snag you.

But that hadn’t happened. Because you had spotted him first.

He hadn’t even noticed you before tonight. Too busy keeping his head tucked down and his gaze tunnel visioned. Hoping that it was enough to keep him as unapproachable as he strived to be.

Obviously, that didn’t work, because here you were right in front of him - gazing up at him with a cute little smile as you lead him into a different room of the house.

So sweet. Like you had genuinely no idea he was currently plotting six different ways to get you alone, and four different things he could say to get you to stay afterwards.

“She’ll be fine.” You snort, dragging your friend into the new room along with you, as Toby follows suit. “She does this every single time.”

Somehow, the bedroom is just as lively as the party downstairs. About twenty people packed into a space made for two - half of them sat on the stained carpet in a makeshift circle, the other half either spilling drinks on the bed or rifling through the host’s belongings. The chatter in the space was loud, the moisture in the air was thick. The lights were low, save for a few neon LEDs that were strung up in the corners of the walls.

There was a cracked TV that was half buried by solo cups. Clothes, wrappers, and half smoked cigarettes on the ground. Toby lets out a soft hum as he spots one of them - still good for about six puffs - before he snags it off the ground and pockets it for later. He himself had run out about an hour into the function, and he wasn’t about to let such a good amount of tobacco go to waste.

You’re too busy wrestling your friend into a seated position to notice, but he also didn’t have enough shame to care about it even if you did.

You get yourself sat down on the carpet beside her, smushed in between a few less than coherent bodies, with a bottle laying on the ground in the middle of the circle. Toby stands behind you, watching you, hands shoved in his pockets - fingers fiddling with the cigs he had stolen from the ground. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your back, settling onto you like a burn mark, making your shoulders tense up instinctively.

It’s inevitable that you turn back to look at him.

He raises an eyebrow, eyeing the spot that you’d left next to you - that empty space calling to him like a silent invitation.

“Thought you s-said you weren’t expecting me to p-play.” He snorts softly, pulling his hands out of his pockets to fold his arms over his chest.

“I’m not.” You hum back to him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” He huffs back to you, before taking a few steps forwards - settling himself into the space you’ve saved, all he had to do was sit down to seal the deal. “You know, all th-this shit is just semantics.” He takes a seat, legs folding crossed with his hands pressed into the carpet behind him to support him as he leaned back. “If you wanted a ch-chance with me alone you could just a-ask.”

It’s bold. It’s worthy of a smack. But it’s worth it when you blush so pink it covers up any freckle or blemish in your skin. You scoff, roll your eyes, fidget with the hem of your skirt - but he’s got you, and he knows it. He has since the start. Since before he even knew you existed.

“That’s not what this is.” You try to protest, but deep in your gut you know that’s not the truth. That curiosity you had within you about him? It was fuelled by something dark. Something heady and lustful you weren’t prepared to try and confront. You could tell yourself all you wanted to that you were simply intrigued, but you knew deep down that it ran deeper than that.

You had never seen Toby be anything less than hostile. There was a part of you that wondered what it would be like to tap into the more intimate side of him - if it even existed.

Those deep brown eyes of his were magnets, sucking you in before you had even first made contact. The aura that surrounded him was one of mystique and a hint of danger, something that you knew you should stray away from in hopes of keeping a clear head - but now that you finally had him so close? You weren’t quite sure that was even an option anymore.

His knee bumps with yours as he gets comfortable. Just a minute point of contact that has the heat of his body seeping into yours like a leech. When you breathe in, you smell him. The air filled with the sickly scent of alcohol and sweat cut through by the scent of tobacco and aftershave. He smells fresh. Enticing. Like his body was tuned just to pull yours in.

Maybe it was.

“Y-Yeah. Keep tellin’ yourself that.” Toby hums, casting you a sidelong glance before his gaze flickers to the sight of someone picking up the bottle and spinning it.

It’s round after round of this. Glass shifting against the carpet and drunken giggles when two people get paired up. The door of the closet in the room closing, then locking. Shuffling, hushed noises barely drowned out under the music playing through a portable speaker. Leaving the confined space with flushed faces with bruised lips.

That’s all this was. A chance to get lucky without having to do the work of actually trying for it. The bottle chose your fate, and through the haze of blurred vision - almost anyone looked like a good enough candidate.

But not for you. And not for Toby. He’d pass up on every single person in the circle if it meant he could skip this whole mess and just tug you into a spare bedroom.

But of course, fate is fickle and so are you - so you stay, and so does he. Keeping himself parked in the middle of this little game with a bored expression on his face. Eyes trailing everybody that disappeared together, before they were flickering back to you - sat beside him like you didn’t know how much of a treat you were. Offering yourself up to him, even though you seemed oblivious to the fact that you were throwing yourself to the wolves the moment you approached him.

The bottle spins. More bodies disappear. It spins again. More bodies. It spins again - It lands on Toby.

The face he makes when it does is one that you don’t miss. Reluctant. Annoyed. Downright offended by the fact that he’d be chosen by anyone but you.

But, the rules of the game stand steadfast, and this just means he’ll be the one to shift the tides in the next round.

He stands up, shackled to hide away with a girl you recognize from one of your classes, but not before resting a hand on your shoulder as he pushes himself upwards. “Don’t worry. Y-You’ll get your chance.” It’s a promise, you know it is. The twinkle in his eyes proves that.

And yet, for some reason, the sight of him slipping behind the closet doors makes you twitch. It’s not your right to get jealous. He’s not yours in any capacity of the word. You didn’t know him. You knew his name, his mannerisms - that was it. You had spoken to him for a total of maybe fifteen minutes before dragging him into a situation that boded this exact scenario.

Despite all that, the minutes drag on. Every second he’s not beside you feels like a punch. You eye the closet doors like they’ve become your own worst enemy - cursing the name of the person in there with him like she had stolen your firstborn child.

It was just hard not to wonder.

Was he letting her touch him? Was he touching her? Did he pounce the moment that the doors closed? Or did he stay the exact same as normal - straight-faced, arms crossed like being in his presence was a sin in itself?

The more you thought about it, the worse the itch under your skin became. It feels like a gift from god when the timer goes up, and the two of them come stumbling back out.

To your pleasure, Toby looks the exact same. No flush on his cheeks, no messiness to his hair. No blemishes on his skin, or bruising on his lips. His clothes are intact, and when he comes moseying back over to you - the girl he had been stuck in there with looks less than pleased. Disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm, probably.

It’s difficult not to feel self-assured by that fact.

When he sits back down, he doesn’t say a word to you. Toby just shoots you a sidelong glance, smirks softly, then reaches forwards to spin the bottle for himself. Pleased with himself, clearly - because his effect on you is obvious, even if you don’t think it is.

The look of relief on your face when he wandered back over to you, completely unscathed? That was all he needed. You were so desperate it was almost pitiful, and yet you didn’t even seem to realize it. Maybe that was the best part.

When Toby flicks his wrist, the bottle spins like an oracle. Determining the fate of the man who sat beside you, and you by proxy. It’s embarrassing to say that you were holding your breath the entire time, but you were - your gaze flickering between Toby and the bottle like maybe if you thought about it hard enough you could manifest the results you desired.

The universe seems to be on your side, just this one time.

It spins and spins. It slows, builds suspense, and then it settles - with the bottleneck pointed directly at you.

You’re not quite sure if you should drop to your knees and thank god right there, or continue playing coy.

You choose the latter.

Though, the enthusiasm when Toby grabs your wrist is palpable. Your pulse thrums under his fingertips when he stands again and pulls you along with him, giving away how you truly felt despite the strong face you were trying to keep. His touch felt like fire on your skin - his hand rough and calloused, scratching against the delicate skin of your arm. His grip firm, but not demanding. Just assured. Confident. Like he was already aware that this was the exact situation you had been hoping for.

Maybe, you hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

When the closet doors close behind you, that fact is more than clear.

You almost immediately shrink. The space is more confined than you could’ve prepared yourself for - your body shoved between crumpled jackets and sweaters, feet squashing piles of shoes underneath the treads of your boots. Toby is so close that it’s suffocating - his knees knocking against yours, the soles of his shoes bumping against yours every time he shifted. It’s claustrophobic. Nowhere to run, nothing to do but stand there and bask in his presence.

For a moment, you don’t speak. Arms crossed over your chest like you were trying to shield yourself - his gaze burning into your skin with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. The low lighting only makes him look all the more threatening when your eyes flick upwards, your throat feeling dry as you swallow thickly.

You wanted to close the minuscule distance, every atom in your body knew that. But with such little time? With constraints that refrained you from truly appreciating him? It was difficult for you to rationalize it. To take the first step.

Good thing you don’t have to.

“So what? W-We just gonna have a staring contest for the next s-seven minutes?” Toby’s voice echoes through the confined space like a taunt, his head leaned back against the wall behind him - eyes half-lidded as they gaze down at you like a predator. There’s a spark in his irises that you don’t miss. An expectation.

Like he knew exactly what you were thinking, and he was just waiting for you to break. You were seconds away from doing just that.

“Well, yeah.” You mutter softly. “I guess. Seven minutes isn't exactly a lot of time to… Get acquainted.”

“‘Get acquainted’.” Toby repeats with a snort, rolling his eyes minutely at your choice of words. Despite the apprehensiveness, he could see it in your eyes by the way you looked at him - the fascination, the near longing. He had noticed it from the second you walked up to him. It was something that was easy to tap into. He barely even had to do anything - you had just been begging for even a morsel of attention.

It was almost funny to see how hard you had tried to get it, but now that you were face to face with him all alone - you looked so small. Like you were in over your head, barely able to handle it without breaking into a sweat. “We’re d-down to…” Toby checks the watch fitted snug around his wrist. “Six minutes and th-thirty seconds. That’s plenty of time.” His lips twitch. “I’ve taken care of my-myself in less.”

The effect of his words is immediate. So shameless it makes your ears burn, your eyes flicking up to meet his with something close to bewilderment swimming in your irises. His candidness was shocking, something that you didn’t quite know how to deal with. Your brain short-circuiting, it’s difficult to even formulate a response to counter that - and what does end up slipping from your lips is downright blasphemous.

“I’m not going to fuck you.” In this context. Those were the words missing from that sentence. If you had all the time in the world, and privacy that wasn’t one door away from being disturbed by a rowdy room full of part goers - sure.

Despite how much you wanted it, and despite how magnetic Toby’s entire presence was - you still had morals, and dignity.

(For now.)

Toby lets out a bark of laughter that nearly startles you, his nose crinkling up in amusement as his shoulders shake with every rough chuckle that leaves his lungs. His lips stretch into an amused smile, eyes honed in on you and sparkling with something a little too close to fondness for comfort.

“Wh-Who said anything about fucking?” He downright wheezes, his hands falling down to his sides. “G-Got a one-track mind, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You snap back at him, cheeks burning so hot you can feel it seeping down your neck. “Don’t act like that’s not what you were getting at.”

Toby hums, his subtle smirk stretching into a shit-eating grin.

“Got me.” He laughs softly, before checking his watch again. “But f-five minutes? That’s quite the time crunch.” He murmurs. “M-Might just have to s-skip out on the full treatment for tonight.” He leans in a little closer. “Could still give you s-somethin’ though, unless you’re planning to waste all my time ch-chatting like we can out there.”

Your eyes narrow.

“Are you normally this bold?” You ask softly, slowly but surely unfurling your arms - dropping them down to your sides, subtly opening yourself up to him more. “Didn’t strike me as that type.”

“Th-That’s because you don’t know m-me.” Toby snickers. He doesn’t even need to take a step closer to encroach on your space, dipping his head down does the trick just fine. So claustrophobic that you have nowhere to try and shrink away from his presence, unless you were planning to phase through the wall behind you. “But, I-I’m more than happy to help you learn.” Lower, the frizzy hair of his bangs tickles your forehead. “Been wa-watchin’ me for so long.” He hums. “Don’t’cha want some hands on e-experience? This is your chance.”

“Who knew you were such a sly bastard when you crawl out of your shell?” You huff, your breathing growing more and more shallow the closer he gets. You can feel the heat of him - radiating off of him, seeping into your skin through your clothes, and he hadn’t even touched you. “I was expecting you to cower like a virgin.”

“Yeah?” Toby lets out a breathy laugh, just barely refraining from rolling his eyes. “That th-the vibe I give off? A virgin who d-doesn’t know shit?”

“Honestly?” You barely hold back a little smirk. “Yeah. It is.”

“You wound m-me.” Toby hums back to you, his breath tickling against the skin of your face when he speaks. He smells like cigarette smoke, and horrible decisions. It only pulls you in more. “W-Well? Think I can prove you wrong in fi-five minutes?”

It’s bait. Something you know you shouldn’t agree to. The stakes are high, the chance for complete humiliation is almost inevitable. And yet, you cave. It’s a near impossible task to stay strong, when he’s already slipping into your space like he had the right to. Hands creeping to hover over your waist, his eyes flickering down to your lips with less than innocent intentions.

His gaze is dark. All consuming. The overhead light flickering off of his irises, like flames dancing behind his eyes. You’re not quite sure anyone would be able to hold strong in a situation like this - when he’s got you so close, and is promising so much. So sure of himself, confident that he could give you everything you could possibly need in the nick of time. It’s an attitude flip you never would have expected from him. It’s enrapturing.

“You can try.” Your brain and mouth have a complete disconnect when those words leave your lips. A clear invitation, that Toby takes quickly - not giving you time to think it over. With time against you, he surges forwards, racing against the clock to get his hands on you as quickly as he can.

Which, he does. His hands immediately latch onto your waist and pull you in close - fingers digging into your flesh through the thin material of your shirt as he tugs you flush to his body. His touch feels like a brand - a claim - something that’ll linger. You hope it does.

“Kn-Knew you’d say that.” He mutters, before dipping his head downwards and closing the distance. Not even giving you a chance to react before his lips are slotting against yours.

You let out a little squeak - surprised by the sudden progression - but melting into it nonetheless, your heart rate kicking up a notch as he lets out a soft groan against your lips. It rumbles out of his chest and through yours, the vibrations from it searing through your body like a plague, only heightening the desire you had been trying to simmer down throughout the course of this entire night.

It was a losing battle. Especially when his lips slide against yours. Rough, cracked, sloppily - kissing you like he never learned the definition of patience. But, to be fair, in this situation - it was difficult to pay any mind to the word.

His teeth snag on your bottom lip and tug, pulling a soft moan out of your lungs that he swallows down like it’s sugar syrup. Fingers digging deeper into your skin, one hand slipping downwards to grasp at your ass with a grip harsh enough to elicit a moan. He uses that as leverage, slipping his tongue into your mouth the moment your lips part. It’s dirty. It’s desperate. It feels like heaven on earth.

The heat between the two of you grows and grows, the air around you charged with desire to the point you’d swear you could feel it crackle. Toby lapping up your moans as they fall onto his tongue, returning them with soft rumbles of pleasure that make your entire body light up.

Your hands snake upwards as his slide downwards, tangling into his hair in a desperate grip as he presses you further back into the wall behind you - near tripping over your own feet as you struggle to follow his lead, clothes slipping off of their hangers and crumpling against the floor with each shuffled, frantic movement the two of you make.

There’s barely any room to move, but it’s almost better that way. No room to run. No room to escape from his touches as his lips slip from yours and start leaving a sloppy trail from your jawline to your neck. Spit smearing against your skin, each kiss punctuated with a bite that makes you hiss - Toby tugging your skin between his teeth like marking you was something that was a given. Like he knew you’d let him, without even having to ask.

Leaving a scalding trail of saliva and hickeys, his palms greedily knead the fat of your ass through your skirt as his lips travel towards your collarbone. Stubble scratching against your skin, his breath hot and heavy as he pants against you - leaving a thin sheen of condensation against your already clammy skin. He moves like a soda bottle that had just burst its lid, a mess of heady desire all coming to the surface and directed solely at you. Hands clawing at your clothes like he was two seconds away from just ripping them off to feel more of you. Lips latching onto your flesh like he was trying to suck your very essence out through your pores.

You were desperate and trying to hide it. Toby was desperate and letting it all show. His enthusiasm was near maddening. Your lungs choking on every breath that you forced inwards, eyes screwed shut as your fingers tugged at his hair - so overwhelmed you weren’t quite sure if you were trying to pull him in closer or yank him away.

He was everywhere. His fingers leaving indents in every soft spot of flesh he could find, his teeth scraping against any stretch of flesh that became victim to them. He was a wildfire, and you were just a piece of wood waiting to be burned. Leaning into every flame that licked at your body, happily submitting into it all as his heat danced across every nerve signal. “Gonna- Fuck-“ Toby hisses through his teeth, his nails scratching against your ass cheeks when his hands slip under the hem of your skirt - leaving behind little welts that do nothing but get you hotter. “F-Fuck, I-“ Lips dragging, drool smearing against your shirt collar. “I don’t ha-have time-“ He gasps. “Don’t have time t-to do what I want to-“

“Try-“ You breathe back to him. You tug his head back by the grip on his hair, forcing out a hiss from his lungs that sounds far more pleasured than pained. When he meets your eyes, he sees it. The want pooled in your irises is enough to wind him, your pupils blown out so wide with desire it’s akin to two black holes staring right back at him. Ones that he’d be more than happy to let himself get sucked in by - your magnitude so inescapable, he’s sure right then that he’ll be orbiting you for months after this. Maybe years, if you let him. “Just try- Fuck- Don’t think about it-“

All apprehension from before is lost in the intensity. Like his saliva was a drug that washed all the doubts away. Nothing had changed. The stakes were the same. The time constraint was wearing thinner and thinner - and yet the heat within you had never burner hotter. You were half-sure that if you didn’t get him at least semi-bare in the next waking moments, you’d crumble into a pile of ash at his feet. His effect on you was baffling. But at the same time, it had been since the start.

He had hooked you in without even glancing your way. Reeled you in with words laced with annoyance. Pulled you to shore with a heady promise that swam beneath all those layers of disinterest.

To everyone else, he was impossible to get to. But to you right now? He was yours. You needed to solidify that fact.

“Yeah?” Toby sounds almost feral as he chokes that word out, his voice raspy and strained with desire - like it’s an effort just to talk with the heavy lust weighing his entire body down. “Thought-Thought you said you w-weren’t gonna fuck me-“

“Shut up.” You cut him off quickly, your hands shoving his flannel down his shoulders even quicker. You don’t glance at the watch on his wrist. You don’t want to know what the number on the countdown has to say about the escalation of the situation. He lets go of you for just a moment, just to let the fabric of the sleeves slip from his wrists and crumble to the ground along with every other piece of clothing you had knocked off the hangers.

Left in just a t-shirt, you can see the texture of his arms. Scars that litter freckled skin, some looking fresh and pink, others clearly old and leathery. Some wide and deep, others shallow and barely noticeable. A mosaic of memories you’re sure he’d never tell you, but none of that even matters when those same arms are reaching down between your thighs and hauling you up into his grip - hips pressed against his, legs scrambling to lock around his waist to keep yourself upright.

He had kept it hidden until now - probably until it was clear you were willing to do something about it - but now the bulge in his jeans was more than apparent. Pressed right up against the thin material of your panties as his hips nudge under the hem of your skirt. You’d swear you could feel him throb even through the thick denim.

“You u-usually this easy?” Toby murmurs to you softly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs - leaving behind crescent shaped indents now, and surely bruises in the near future. He touched like he didn’t care about the consequences. Even brush of his fingers against you being bruising, marking up your skin like he owned it - even if it was just for right now.

It was almost like insurance. If you wanted to, you could slip out of this closet and never once look his way again, but your skin would tell the story for weeks to come. Fingerprints and indentations of his teeth glaring back at you every time you looked in the mirror. Maybe, it would be enough to have you crawling right back. Maybe, you wouldn’t even stray away in the first place. “Or, i-is this all just for m-me?”

“Don’t talk.” You mutter back to him - half desperation, half embarrassment. “You’re wasting time.”

“G-Guess I am.” Toby hums back to you, an air of amusement dancing among his words as his one hand crawls upwards - trickling touches up towards your core, snaking beneath the hem of your skirt as his body keeps you pinned, smushed right up against the wall. “Gotta tell me wh-what you want.” He mutters as his fingers just barely slip below the hem of your panties. “Because I c-can’t promise that we won’t get interrupted. If you were smart, y-you’d wait.”

“Can’t.” You answer back to him breathlessly, hips kicking as an invitation to touch you more - to dive in deeper. To stop playing coy, and give you what you had been wanting since you first walked up to him. His hands were lovely, and they hadn’t even met your cunt yet. With the time constraint encroaching on you like walls closing in, you knew you’d just have to save the patient exploration for another day. Right now, you needed him, utterly and completely.

You knew how it looked for you - easy, desperate - but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Especially not when the size of the tent in his jeans made your stomach flip. You don’t even want to know how much time is left on the clock when you reach down, grabbing his wrist and tugging it down further, nudging his fingers against your throbbing clit.

“You say th-that I’m the surprise.” Toby snorts, nosing into your neck as he swipes his fingers through your folds. The slick that dampens the digits sends a shiver down his spine. You’re just so ready for it. “Who would’ve thought that you’re s-such a slut?” His words vibrate against your skin, sparking up a heat that simultaneously makes your cheeks burn hot, and your clit throb under the pads of his fingers. “I expected m-maybe a little makeout at b-best.” Two fingers tease your entrance, just gently prodding against you as his thumb slides against your swollen nub - his calloused fingertips barely doing anything, and yet it felt like so much. “But here you are. B-Begging for my dick.”

“I’m not-“

“Yeah, you a-are.” Toby’s silencing you in a second, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder as he plunges his fingers inwards. You’re so wet that it’s an easy glide, the digits slipping in and stretching you open so suddenly that it steals the air from your lungs. Legs twitching around his hips, you grit your teeth to try and keep your noises at bay, eyes fluttering when he scissors his fingers wide open - your velvety walls abiding to his every wish. “F-Fuckin’ tight-“ He mutters under his breath, the words fanning out hot and heavy against your skin. “I don’t even kn-know if you can take me.” Curling his fingers, your hips kick - more slickness just being fucked out of you with every movement. “Should wait- Sh-Should take my time-“

“M’fine-“ You gasp out, your head falling back against the wall behind you with a thud, your chest heaving with every shaky breath. “Toby- Please, just-“ His fingers sink in deeper, pressing crudely against a spot that makes your entire body jolt in his arms - and you’re unable to stop yourself when your jaw goes slack, a broken, choked off moan slipping off of your tongue.

To Toby, you sound like sin itself. He’d be damned if he didn’t hear more of that. If he didn’t taste the noise on his tongue.

“Oh, they d-definitely heard that one.” He chuckles darkly, eyes honed right onto your face as he pumps his fingers in quicker - deeper - almost harsh in his movements. Impatiently trying to stretch you out, knowing that if you were getting so worked up from just his fingers, his cock was probably going to make you cry. And that was something he was impatiently looking forwards to. “No hi-hiding it anymore. Might as well just…”

He pulls his fingers out of you in one swift movement, the wet squelch that rings through the air making your entire body clench up in embarrassment - your whole body red as your cunt flutters around the empty space. Still dripping, so eager it nearly made his mouth water. “‘I’m not g-gonna fuck you’.” Toby snickers under his breath, mocking you softly as his dirtied hand goes down to his belt buckle - smearing slick against the metal as he pulls the leather through the loops. “L-Look at you now. D-Don’t even care that everyone out there’s about t-to hear me fuck you like a whore.”

“Don’t be fucking mean-“ You bite back to him, trying (and failing) to keep your composure and dignity even as you watch him unbutton his jeans. Working clumsily in the squished position the two of you are forced into, it takes him a second to maneuver it all. But, sure enough, it really doesn’t take long until his zipper is all but yanked down, and he’s shoving both his jeans and boxers down in one desperately eager move.

“Not mean.” Toby hums back to you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours as he reaches down and takes hold of his cock. It’s hard enough to look near painful, dribbling precum at the tip that glistens in the light, big enough to make your eyes widen a little bit. He catches that (of course he does) and it only makes his grin widen. “Just h-honest.”

His free hand slips between your thighs, fingers finding a tear in your tights and taking brutal advantage of it - immediately ripping the hole open further - exposing you completely when he tugs your panties to the side afterwards. Stretching the material to the side, he’s got your bare cunt on full display - slick, glistening, still twitching from the loss of his touch.

A little noise of approval rumbles from his chest as his eyes lock onto the sight, his gaze raving over every fold and crease like he was staring straight into heaven’s gate. “Fuckin’ pretty.” He mutters breathlessly. Then, he slaps the head of his cock against your clit a couple times lightly, just to watch the way you jolt and squirm because of it. Just to feel your cunt throb against him. It’s near mesmerizing. “You re-really want me to fuck you?” He asks you softly, voice low and gravelly. “Right here, right now?”

Despite all of his eagerness - how clearly his body craved every inch of you - he was still giving you an out. It probably shouldn’t have come off as sweet as it did, and it probably shouldn’t have made you want him more, but at this point you feel as if you’re a stranger in your own mind.

You would’ve never done something like this before. Never have. And yet all it took was a few sly glances, and a couple minutes of swapping spit, and Toby had you so tightly in his clutches you were near certain you’d roll over and grovel at his feet if he asked you to. It was the confidence he exuded, something that he kept under lock and key. A switch that only got flipped if you were lucky to find your body beneath his palms.

It was addictive. It made you feel so wanted. So special, that you were able to turn the tides with him like this. Someone so unapproachable, so closed off to everyone who gave him the time of day, and yet here he was - near drooling as he ground his cock down against your bare cunt. Hearts in his eyes like you were bestowing a damn gift upon him.

And honestly, you were. It had been awhile since he had gotten someone so fucking needy for him. Borderline dripping down your thighs just at the prospect of him inside you.

For you, you couldn’t remember the last time your body had responded like this to another. Everything about him dragging you in and lighting you ablaze.

So the decision is easy.

“Please.” Your hips nudge back against him - your pussy twitching at the feeling of him sliding between your folds. Thick and throbbing, your thighs quiver just at the thought of taking him - but your mind (and cunt) overrule the verdict. All anxiety smoothed over in favour of learning how that would feel inside you.

“Oh, C-Christ-“ Toby mutters - his words more so a hiss than anything else. Right then, the both of you know that the decision has been made.

It had been from the moment he had closed the door behind the two of you. “F-Fuckin’ desperate-“ As he reaches down and swipes the head of his cock through your wetness - his precum mixing with your slick to just get you both even messier. “Can’t fuckin’ wait-“

One hand slips upwards to grasp your hip tightly as the other one lines his cock up properly, his gaze locked on the point where your two bodies were about to connect. You can see drool glistening on his lips, a pretty flush on his cheeks that swallows up all of his freckles, sweat beading up on his forehead.

His lips are parted, heavy huffs of breath slipping out - and they catch in his throat when he finally sinks in.

He presses into you, slow and sweet. His eyes flicker up to your face as a low groan choked off into the air, watching each and every change in your expression as he feeds you inch after inch - feeling that hot, wet gumminess swallow him up like that was your damn job. “Oh, Jesus-“ His head falls against your shoulder, panting against you like he’d just run a marathon as he pushes himself in deeper - deeper - every little gasp and moan that you let out only encouraging him. You were taking him so well it made his mind go blank, his thoughts consumed with nothing but the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him.

And to you? You think you might’ve just died and gone to heaven. The stretch makes you hiss, but that fullness? It downright makes you drool. It was like his cock was made for you, filling up every nook and cranny so perfectly - the head pressing up against your g-spot like a threat when he finally fully sheathed himself. It was enough to have your eyes going glassy, nails clawing at his back through his shirt before he even started moving. “F-Fuck- That’s it-“ Toby gasps out against your skin, his lips dragging against you as his hands squeeze at your hips. Just holding you there - impaled on his cock, pinned between the wall and his body - making you take a second to just feel it. To feel him. To make sure you remembered this. “God, you feel like f-fuckin’ heaven.” He groans out, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Tight little cunt- Gonna be fuckin’ d-dreamin’ about this-“

His nose presses into your skin as he draws his hips back, breathing in a deep lungful of your scent as his cock drags against your walls on the pull-out. His tongue darts out to lap at your skin as he sinks back in, a moan rumbling against you - mixing in the air with the sound that you yourself let out.

It was near dizzying. Pulling out until just the tip remained, letting you really feel that emptiness before he went and filled you right back up again. Stretching you out around his dick so good that your vision goes blurry, your hands grasping onto his shirt for dear life - clawing the material half up his back. His hands slip upwards - using the weight of his own body to keep you pinned as his hands snake up your body, his hips dealing quick shallow thrusts that punch a moan out of your lungs every time he bottoms out. His hips slapping against your ass cheeks, leaving them red. Slick gushing out of you on every stroke in, dirtying the front of his jeans - leaving a milky white ring of sticky wetness around the base of his cock every time he pulled out.

You were just sucking him in. So wet and tight it made his head spin, his pulse in his damn ears as his hands slip under your clothes - shoving up both your shirt and bra in one go, letting your bare tits spill free into his palms. “Fuckin’ crazy-“ Toby grunts out as his fingers dig into the sensitive flesh, only making your moans reach a new pitch. “Crazy that- Fuck- That a pussy this good is begging for me. Me.” He lets out a strained, breathless chuckle - kneading your breasts in his palms as his hips grind in deeper - purposely abusing your g-spot simply because he wants to see the tears spring to your eyes. It works. “I’m one luh-lucky bastard aren’t I?”

His eyes lock on your face, his expression near manic at the sight of you. Breathless, teary, choking on every moan like it almost pained you. Your entire face contorted in pleasure as your body trembled in his arms, flushed all pink and pretty - downright melting in his grip. “P-Pays to be the quiet type, huh?” His fingers pinch at your nipples, tugging at them as his hips just fuck up into you harder. Giving you absolutely no reprieve - not that you wanted that anyway. “Gets ss-sluts like you fallin’ at my feet.”

Harsher, the force of his thrusts have your body sliding up the wall each time his hips meet yours. The air in the closet has grown borderline suffocating - hot and stuffy, reeking of sweat, sex, and bad decisions. The sound of skin on skin ringing in your ears, bordered by Toby’s gravelly grunts and groans.

The pace is desperate and quick, no room for whispered sweet nothings, or tender touches - that’s not what this is. This was two people breaking under close proximity, mixing sweat and swapping saliva. Every fluid tainted with depravity and desperation. Toby can practically taste the lust seeping from your pores when his lips drag against your skin - his teeth scraping another raw red mark into the delicate flesh. And god, did it taste good. Made his tastebuds tingle, and his mouth water - so sweet, like every single inch of you was just fine-tuned to pull him in deeper.

It was so easy to get lost in it. To forget where you were. His hips snapping against yours, his cock bullying its way into your heat on every stroke in. All you can feel is him - his hands leaving heated trails against your body, his teeth pinching your skin between them. And all you can hear is him - the heavy huffs of breath he lets out through his nose, the low groans he tries to muffle against a mouthful of your shoulder, the sound of his belt clinking every time his hips collided with your ass.

Well, that’s all you could hear, until-

“That’s seven minutes!”

The sound of a knock on the door nearly sobers you. Nearly. It would’ve, if Toby slowed down even a little bit - but he doesn’t. Like the interruption doesn’t even faze him, he keeps the pace. Keeps fucking into you like it’s his only mission in life, the only difference being that one hand comes up, pressing against the door to keep it closed, his muscles flexing as he pushes back against the body on the other side.

“Y-You’re gonna cum for me-“ Toby growls to you lowly, your legs twitching every time he sunk in right to the hilt. His thrusts downright punishing, like he was trying to fuck the rational thoughts right out of you, barely even giving you room to think. And his words? They aren’t a request, they’re a demand. “Whether s-someone hears you, or not.”

Another knock, and he only picks up the pace. Forcing the moans out of your lungs, your entire face scrunching up in embarrassment when you can’t hold them back. Knowing that you’re caught, knowing that walking out of here afterwards would be an absolutely hellish walk of shame. One worthy for the history books. “L-Let them fuckin’ hear you. Let them know wh-who’s bringin’ you to tears right now.” Toby just made it so difficult to care. “Say it. Fuckin’ t-tell them-“

You can tell that you’re not the only one starting to lose your composure. Toby’s voice is strained, shaky - the waver at the end of his words betraying just how deep in it he was. He was trembling where his fingers gripped you, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt just squeezed tighter and tighter around him.

“T-Toby!” Oh, it’s humiliating when you let his name spill from your lips in a broken cry - the sound absolutely unmistakable. It held all of the desperation of a sound that got fucked out of you, because that’s exactly what had happened. And now, everyone else in the room knew about it.

Maybe you’d take the time to dwell on it, if Toby didn’t throw you over the edge mere seconds after his name leaves your lips. It’s just impossible not to fall apart. Every single one of his thrusts was dead aimed at your g-spot, making your entire body jolt and your legs twitch on every movement. When he snakes his free hand down to thumb at your clit - that’s it. You’re done for.

You downright sob when it hits you, your vision all but whiting out as you convulse in his arms. Shoulders bowing, your back arches off of the wall and into him - your eyes pinching shut as your jaw drops slack, just more and more absolutely humiliating noises ringing out into the air. Loud enough that you know the music in the room outside the door wouldn’t be enough to muffle them.

“Sh-Shit-“ With your ears still ringing, you barely even hear it when Toby chokes out a ragged groan, his grip on you only growing tighter. But you do feel it, when his hips stutter - the feeling of your cunt twitching around him just too much to bear. “Gonna- Hah, fuck-“

He’s too lost in it to even ask, and you’re too fucked out of your mind to even register it before he sinks his cock in deep one last time - his lips parting in a gravelly moan against your neck as he spills inside you. Rolling his hips in deep to pump in into you, more hot, sticky warmth filling you up with each lazy thrust. It makes you shiver, a soft little whimper leaving your lips as he stuffs you full of him - his heart pounding against yours with each sated jerk of his hips.

And then for a moment, neither of you speak. You just let your head fall against his shoulder, panting against his neck as his cock throbs inside you, emptying the last remnants of his load into your twitching, sensitive body. Barely able to get your breath back, barely able to think - too busy trying to comprehend what the fuck had just happened.

Toby breaks the silence. “I… I hope y-you’re on the pill.” He mutters against your neck, one hand still holding the door shut, the other one grasping your waist like you were his anchor to reality. “Probably shoulda…”

“Asked?” You snort back to him. “Yeah. Probably should’ve.” But you don’t hit him with the annoyance and distaste he was expecting, just tired amusement. It’s enough to make him raise an eyebrow, and peel himself away from you just enough to get a good look at your face.

And god, if he thought you were pretty before? Now, the sight of you nearly buckled him. Flushed, sweaty, panting, struggling to come down from the high he had brought you to. Your skin speckled with little bruises, and stinging lovebites, your hair matted with sweat and sticking to your forehead. Still ruffled. Still half dressed, with your shirt and bra shoved up over your tits. Still stuffed with him, because he was a little bit reluctant to pull out even as he started to grow soft.

You were fucking breathtaking, and you had sought him out. The thought still winded him.

“You m-mad at me for it?” He asks, shamelessly trailing his gaze down your body - stopping where the two of you were still connected, watching his spend drip out around his cock. Worth it, even if you were.

“Not mad.” You huff back to him. “I just hope that’s not a habit of yours.”

That earns you a laugh, a genuine one. A warm, raspy chuckle that rumbles from his chest - his eyes crinkling up in a smile he hadn’t yet graced you with until now. An expression that he usually kept hidden, but he was showing it to you now, in the solitude of your own little personal bubble.

“I-It’s not.” He snickers back to you. “But, you were a-asking for it.” His hand slips downwards, giving your thigh an affectionate little pat. “C-Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah, well, now I’ve got to walk back out there with cum dripping down my thighs.” You scoff, narrowing your eyes up at him. “You got the easy part. You barely even look like anything happened. Just a little sweaty.”

“Oh, t-trust me, you left your mark.” Toby laughs softly, gently smoothing his palm against your skin. The roughness of his palm feels soothing, as he smears your sweat up to your hip. “Those claws of yours d-definitely drew blood.”

He leans down a little closer, his hair tickling your nose as his lips stretch into a grin. “Besides, n-no reason to hide it. Everyone already kn-knows what I did to you anyway.”

You let out an annoyed groan, weakly bringing a hand up to push at his chest. An action done in vain, because you were actually dreading the moment he peeled his body from yours.

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” You huff, rolling your eyes - to which Toby just lets out another laugh.

“Y-Yeah. Maybe we should keep it more p-private next time.”

hellooooooooo everyone! back at it with another toby fic! who’s surprised? not me!

thanks for reading!!

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mrstobyrogers · 2 months ago

Note

Gang I’m dying I need more of this

Okay, we got dad Jeff, but as a Toby girl, WE NEED DAD TOBY NOW, PLEASE.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

๑ Warning: Pregnancy, creampie, vaginal, dirty talk

── .✦

Daddy Toby oh my heavens.

He doesn’t look like a traditional “dad,” but don’t get it twisted—he’s got the dad bod. Not in the beer-gut sense, but in the thick arms, broader belly, heavy thighs, and soft places that come from comfort, not laziness. He’s still strong—solid from years of surviving hell—but now his body tells a story of slower mornings, shared meals, and quiet evenings with his family. And the longer he’s settled into fatherhood, the better he gets at it.

He loves seeing you with the kid—loves watching you walk around the house in those little sleep shorts, the subtle softness from pregnancy still lingering in your hips, the way you bend to pick the baby up. It drives him insane.

He’s always touching you now—resting his hand on your belly, your ass, your thighs. Having your kid resting on his shoulder while his other hand pulls your legs over his lap, rubbing your thighs so softly with rough hands. Coming up behind you to whisper filth through gritted teeth, like it’s physically hard to contain, “You lo-looked so fuckin’ go-good swollen with my kid. W-Wanna see it again…”

He says it so casually, like he’s thinking about what to get for dinner. But there’s hunger in it—need. The kind that boils over when you’re finally alone for the night and he crawls into bed behind you, all heavy limbs and slow-breathing lust. He palms your belly while he grinds up against your back, already rock hard, already panting, “L-Let’s try again… just one m-more. You can take it, ca-can’t you?”

He’s rougher than he used to be—not cruel, just desperate. Desperate to mark you, to breed you, to keep that part of your life alive. He pulls your panties aside, presses in with practiced ease, and once he’s seated deep inside, he groans like the pressure of you might break him, “S-Shit—shit, you still feel so good. Gonna fi-fill you up again.”

And it only gets worse the longer you go without another kid. Every time he pulls out and sees his cum dripping down your thighs, he gets pissed—like his body can’t understand why you’re not already pregnant again. He’ll push it back in with his fingers, fuck it deeper with a filthy smirk, “Gonna k-keep fuckin’ you ‘til I see th-that belly swell again.”

He’s obsessed with it. With the domesticity, the ownership, the comfort and filth all tangled together. And he doesn’t just want another baby—he wants you to want it. Wants to see your lips fall open and hear you beg for it. So when he’s really in the mood, he’ll press you down into the mattress and growl, “Tell me you w-wanna be full again. I’ll give it t-to you. I’ll give you as many as y-you want…”

And when you do—when you beg for him, when you gasp out “Please, Toby—” he loses it. He’ll fuck you through the mattress, hips snapping into yours, jaw clenched tight as he pants and moans, “That’s it. There y-you go. Gonna fuckin’ breed you ti-till you’re too full to walk…”

Toby as a dad isn’t just sweet and protective. He’s an animal in love. A man who never thought he’d be soft enough to hold a baby, and now he’s insatiable for the the person who gave him that life. And he’s not stopping at one. Not if he can help it.

And he’s never letting you go. Not when you still feel so good. Not when your body remembers him like that.

꩜ .ᐟ

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mrstobyrogers · 2 months ago

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You don't understand how terrifying Toby E. Rogers is.

Tim Wright? I've seen him being called Slenderman's right hand more times than I can count. Brian too — always listed as the tactical one, the logical one, the camera in the dark. Both strong. Skilled. Ruthless. But Tobias?

You don't talk about Tobias.

No one ever does.

Maybe that’s the most terrifying part.

Tim is frightening. He's tall, trained, deadly accurate with a firearm. If you're unlucky, he might shoot you in the leg just to watch you crawl and sit there beside your dying body, lighting a cigarette with hands still stained from his last kill, staring at you like you're a problem that refuses to go away. He doesn’t enjoy it. He’s just tired.

Brian? He’ll mock you. Record your cries, laugh at them later. He’ll put a bullet in every inch of you until you’re crawling, desperate, broken. And when he’s done, he’ll casually meet Tim for a drink, chatting about ammo like you weren’t even a person. He doesn’t need a reason. He’s cruel for the sake of it. Detached. Emotionless. He'll shoot every inch of you until you're no longer human — just something twitching on the floor.

But they feel pain. They tire. You can fight them, hurt them, stall them — they can still feel that bullet stinging on their skin, they can still feel blood dripping out from their shoulder, they can still feel your punch on their stomach for hours.

But Tobias?

Tobias is something else entirely.

Toby doesn’t feel pain.

Let me say that again: he doesn’t feel pain.

You can stab him, shoot him, snap bones — he won’t flinch. He won’t stop. You won’t even slow him down. Heat exhaustion doesn’t touch him. Pain doesn’t register. He's wired differently. Completely.

He’s spent years throwing axes. His aim is terrifying — eagle-precise, deadly. You think your weak arms and ragged breath will help you escape him? you’re trembling, you’re gasping, lungs burning, legs cramping, hands slippery with your own blood. And he's still walking — not running — walking after you, laughing, muttering nonsense between vocal tics as the blade in his hand scrapes along the wall behind him.

This man laughs, twitches, and stutters his way through an entire bloodbath without blinking.

You think shooting him will stop him? you think pleading will slow him down? you think crawling to the door will earn his pity?

You’ll only hear: "li-little buh-biitch" — before his axe swings down, smiling down at you, like a hunter who just killed his first prey, his first prize.

And even then, he won't finish you. Not right away. He'll throw an axe into your back, then rip it out slowly. He wants you to feel it. He'll let you crawl a little. He likes the chase.

He'll follow you, limping with purpose, murmuring through his ticks. He’ll scrape his axe along the ground, letting you hear the metal sing behind you. The floor becomes a canvas for the trail of red he leaves behind.

Toby isn't a saint. He's not a sunshine-and-rainbows proxy. He wasn’t born for this — he was twisted into it. He was never meant to be saved. Not when he was forced to become a proxy to survive.

He won’t soften for anyone.

He won’t declaw himself for you.

He won’t stop sharpening his teeth just to make sure he can still tear something apart.

He enjoys watching blood drain from your body. He smiles when you scream. He stares with fascination when you cry — not out of pleasure, but out of curiosity.

Because he’s never felt it. So he wants to see it.

So tell me: if you were Slenderman, and you had to choose between Brian, Tim, or Toby.

Who would you trust to be your hands?

Your eyes?

Your wrath?

....

You already know the answer now.

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mrstobyrogers · 2 months ago

Text

“IT’S FILTHY, DISGUSTING, SO UGLY, I’M SURE

I'm ugly, disgusting, and filthy for sure”

You once questioned him on why he was so fond of the dark. He answered with something along the lines of the fact that he’s not able to see his own shadow.

Shaggy tufts of brown, nearly draped over his shoulders. The muzzle that hides the gash running from the corner of his lip along his cheek. He thinks it's so gross that it only proves worth when he emphasizes it with a sinister grin before he’s to kill. Because that’s what he is, made to kill.

But you see the beautiful grotesqueness in it all. The sound of an angel's choir, the deep harmonizing hums, is what he drags around with his hatchet and its blood. Along with his eyebags and bushy eyebrows. Along with the saliva strings and exposed bone and gums.

And it’s too what plays when he’s so rough with you, as nothing gets you higher than the taboo adrenaline.

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mrstobyrogers · 2 months ago

Text

toby rogers when i find you, im sucking that dick dry.

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mrstobyrogers · 2 months ago

Text

TICCI TOBY THIRSTS

includes three NSFW drabbles/mini fics. read at your own risk.

TWs; reader fuck1ng a hatchet, recorded s3x, toby being a stalker, m0mmy k1nk, reader dr1nk1ng c*m, 4n4l, s0mn0ph1l14

A/N; hahahahhahaahahhahah

MIGHT make the second one a more stretched out drabble and the third one a fic.

Toby doesn't like it when you linger around the two other men he works with a little more than you should. So, he steals Hoodie's camera, props it up on the table in front of his bed, and starts fucking you with the handle of his hatchet with his cock in your ass.

You were being silly.

Silly. Just... silly.

Surely, you didn't mean to smoke with Masky and Hoodie without him knowing. Surely, you didn't mean to share a joint with them. Surely, you didn't want to fuck them.

Right?

Those thoughts were circling Toby's mind again and again, plunging the wooden handle of his hatchet in and out of your poor throbbing cunt.

You're sobbing uncontrollably under the threatening pressure of your orgasm, and with Toby's hard cock pulsing inside your ass, you were nowhere far from howling like a bitch in heat.

Moments before this, Toby had trudged outside on the mansion's porch and dragged you along with him inside, grumbling something about how he should have put you an a leash.

You babbled in confusion, asking him what was going on after he snatched Hoodie's camera off the table and tossing you into his room.

Before you could even wince in pain, Toby grabbed you by the hair and rose you up onto his bed, the sound of your clothes ripping filled your ears immediately.

And now, you're here.

Sitting in between his legs on the stuffy mattress, your knees up to your ears locked by Toby's arm, his cock buried inside your ass and his other arm pistoning his hatchet in and out while your nails were digging into his thighs.

You're in heaven.

It wasn't long until you were gushing on the wood of his hatchet, occasionally squirting whenever he hit that sweet spot inside your womb.

All the while you were moaning like there was no tomorrow.

"H-how many t-times have you cum?" you almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

How many times did you cum?

Four? Six?

A harsh slap was met by your hip.

"How f-fucking many, s-sweet girl?" the nickname sounded like a threat.

"F-five... five times--" you were interrupted by a squeal from your trembling lips when you felt your clit being slapped.

"Wrong," he growled. "Nine. Nine t-times you c-came on my f-fucking axe." Toby increased the speed of how fast the handle was already plunging inside you. "You're usually s-so g-good with numbers," he teased. "Did I already f-fuck that out of y-you?"

Your brain was mush. Nine times? Has it really been that long?

You could only do so much as to reply with a pathetic sob. Soon, you feel a familiar weight being pressed onto your bladder, you knew what was going to happen next.

Toby lifted his hips up deeper into your asshole, nothing but the constant shaking and shivering from your body keeping his cock satisfied.

You were shrieking. And your legs felt numb-- like jelly, shaking as the weight finally blows and bursts, sending a spray of juices towards the blinking red camera that you forgot was even there in front of you.

Your body shook when you feel hot liquid spill in your ass. A red tint staining your cheeks as shame filled up in your lungs.

"Good girl," Toby let go of your shaking legs, heavy breaths from his own orgasm misting your ears. Your legs drop flat onto the soft cushion, your arms following after like limp jelly.

You feel a pair of hands encase your temples, forcing you to look directly into the forgotten camera lens. You can feel Toby grinning against the side of your face. You could see your faint reflections in the dark glass while his sickeningly sweet voice reverberates into your ear.

"S-smile, lovey. You're o-on camera!"

Toby breaks into your room one night, pumping his cock to your half-asleep body, cumming at the sound of you saying you love him.

"Please, please please please, baby, please say it," his needy begging warms your heart, the sound of his wet cock being pumped accompanying of what is nothing short of music to your ears.

You were pleasantly surprised by Toby leaning over your sleeping body that was caged under his; his warm, heavy breath washing over the side of your neck. His hand was working around his leaking cock, pre-cum staining your blanket.

And when he noticed you woke up, he jumped immediately to spewing an apology, but you stopped him and asked what he wanted.

Toby couldn't restrain himself any longer. Especially when you're voice is so sweetly strained and dripping like honey from your delicious lips.

You're snapped back into reality when Toby's pleas get louder and his cock visibly getting harder.

"Please, baby, p-please say it-- s-say you love me baby, please," he sobbed, fat tears escaping his waterline.

Your hand reached up, travelling from his twitching shoulder to his nape, then tangling your fingers into his brown hair, massaging his scalp.

Toby shivers. "Pleaaase," he sobs. You smile, pitying him.

"I love you, Toby. I love you s'much," you coo. Your voice is like milk to him. Warm. Creamy. Comforting.

With a sharp twitch and a loud whine, Toby throws his head back, his cock pulsing like hell.

You cup your hand right below his flushed tip, collecting the delicious white liquid into your palm. Toby goes limp and lays on your body, his face nesting at the crook of your neck. His eyes travel to his side to see you bring up the handful of cum to your mouth, an unholy sound of your slurping the liquid up.

"T-thank you," he mewled. "Thank you, m-mommy,"

Toby stalks you for months, stealing your underwear and giving it back with mysterious stains, giving you wilted flowers, and texting lewd pictures of you bending down in your bedroom and you naked in the shower. He begs you to let him in to see you until you're fed up. So, you wait until he starts tapping at your locked window before you get naked and started fingering yourself in front of him.

You were-- beyond livid.

This person-- no. This parasite has been breaking in and out of your house unannounced and stealing you lingerie and leaving you rotten flowers.

The messages were no good either. Talking about how eager he is to see you naked in person, how good you look while masturbating, how much he wants to feel you.

It was disgusting. And pathetic.

But before absolutely thrashing your bedroom, your head pops with a plan.

So you wait, until nightfall, to finally meet your stalker face to face-- behind a wall of glass. You had learned his routine by now, sneak in at midnight, watch you sleep, jack off then leave.

Repeat. Then repeat. Then repeat.

You never had the courage to confront him in person so you just stay in bed, pretending to sleep, not wanting to greet the blade of the killing machines he calls hatchets.

But what could he even do against a house made of brick with security protocols that blare sirens when he breaks a barrier?

It wasn't long until he finally arrived. You can see a silhouette of his shadow moving around behind the red curtains in your kitchen. You wait until he's busy figuring out a way to your bedroom window, then open the curtains, revealing your naked body to him.

Your stalker (whose name you found out was Toby after hearing him talk on the phone inside your bathroom) was wide eyed and caught like a deer in headlights.

"Hi there, Toby," you purr. "Having fun watching me through the countless trailcams you installed in my home?" you shake your tits in front of him, your nipples hardening in the cold air.

He twitches.

Your cunt was already dripping with adrenaline. There's just something about an internationally wanted killer openly masturbating to you when you're asleep.

Your fingers dip down, circling your wet clit while you remained eye contact with him.

He twitches again.

Then, you insert both your middle and ring finger inside your pussy, eyes clamping shut in bliss. You moan.

"Oh, Toby," you gasp. His fingers were gripping against the glass. You can see his goggles fog up at how heavy he was breathing. You look down to see his hard-on threatening to break out of his pants. You grin.

"Want that fucking cock s'bad," you give him your doe eyes as your fingers continued to work inside your cunt. "Give it to me, Toby, please?"

Your plan was to make him regret ever holding back from the first place. Make him regret sending cryptic messages that made no sense.

You smirk before plunging your fingers fully inside, ramming your fingers at a disgraceful pace, throwing your head back in pleasure. "Fuck, Toby!" you loudly moan. "Oh, Toby, Toby!" you mewl, rutting your hips back and forth against your fingers.

You bring your free hand down to your chest and started twisting and tugging at your nipples, giggling when you see him frantically whip out his leaking cock.

"Shit, that feels so good, baby," he physically shudders at the nickname. His hand was viciously pumping his cock back and forth, white sticky honey dripping down onto your pavement.

You decide to go a little further and press your tits onto the glass, positioning your legs further back as if you being fucked from behind by him.

Your fingers plunged in and out harder, your juices spraying in accordance with your pace. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head.

"Toby-- harder! Harder please-- please, baby!" you couldn't hear him, but you sure knew he could hear you.

He pumps his cock faster, harder. Almost as if he was the one fucking you instead of your fingers.

He was watching you like a hawk. You look at him once more before licking the glass pane.

Another twitch.

Soon, you find yourself close to your orgasm. You squat on the floor, legs wide open while you continue to finger yourself, your free hand playing with your nipples once again.

Eventually, you feel yourself violently squirt, your juices harshly spraying on the glass all for Toby to see, each shake and shiver of your body being seen by him.

Once you finally gain back your consciousness, you open your eyes to see nothing but white liquid that seemed to stain the outside of your window, with Toby nowhere to be found.

You smile. You won! You finally made him go away.

Now it's time for a tub of ice cream and a nice sitcom on your couch--

Knock, knock, knock.

"L-let me the f-fuck in, baby."

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mrstobyrogers · 2 months ago

Text

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖞𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖆 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

This is 18+ minors DNI

this is my master list for this

still working on this

🩸 𝕵𝖊𝖋𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗

“Go to sleep.” The twisted smile you see before everything goes red.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on jeff. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

👁️‍🗨️ ＥｙｅｌｅｓｓＪａｃｋ

“Don’t bother looking — I already took them.” A predator in surgical silence.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on jack. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

🔪 𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎 𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖞

“Can you hear the ticking?” A blade in each hand. A storm in his head.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on toby. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

⏰ C L O C K W Ø R K

“Your time is up.” Tick. Tick. Tick. Then scream.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on clockwork. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

💋 𝒥𝒶𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇

“Don’t confuse pretty with harmless.” Revenge wears eyeliner.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on jane. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

🐺 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑

“Run. She’ll catch you anyway.” Silent. Fast. Unstoppable.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on Kate . Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

🎭 ｍａｓｋｙ

“You never see the real face.” A shadow in a hoodie, loyal only to the mask.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on tim. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

📹 𝙷𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎

“Behind the lens, behind your back.” He records everything... before he erases it.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on Brian. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

🩶 ⱤɄØ₲Ɇ

“You forgot me. I didn’t.” A glitch in your memory that came back to kill you.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on heather. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

🩸 🄷🄾🄼🄸🄲🄸🄳🄰🄻 🄻🄸🅄

“I’m not like him. I’m worse.” Split soul. One half deadlier than the other.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on liu. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

🌲 𝕾𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖓

“No face. No mercy.” He waits in the woods, silent and still. But you already looked… didn't you?

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on slender. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

🩸 Z̷̹͠Ḁ̴̿ͅL̵̥͓̓G̵͔̎Ơ̶͙

“Ḣ̷̜̯̠Ë̵̟́͐ͅ ̶͍͚͂̕C̸̜̪̿͝O̴̢͋M̷̱̩̋E̷̲̓S̶̬̳̎̓...” Reality tears. Language bleeds. He is corruption incarnate.

✦ Nsfw one-shots

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

there coming soon

✦ LORE AND OTHER

[Title] — [short summary of plot or dynamic]

✦ headcanons/canon

General — SFW/NSFW takes on big z. Lore-soaked ramblings, personal thoughts, and all the unhinged canon chaos surrounding my OC.

Working on it

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mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

Text

Colors

You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

Genre: smut

Characters: bloody painter/helen otis, fem reader

Desc: Art school was always a dream, but the constant competition was suffocating. You always felt behind, especially when the guy painting in red in front of you was so perfect.. but getting to know him, you realized your just like him.. he is art. And you're his muse.

Cws: porn with plot, pnv sex, sex tape, mild degrading, blowjob, friends to lovers, nice helen bc my original idea was very different, idk its fairly vanilla

4.1k words, enjoy!

You were fascinated by him.

The man who sat at the front of your still life class, quietly painting whatever was in front of him with the skill of a seasoned artist, one whos paintings hung front and center in an exhibition. He used the same red hue to sketch, and when you had thought about it, it made sense. It was a unifying underpainting, it harmonized everything into a crimson tinged tone.

You had never dared approach him, he seemed so focused that you felt it would be rude to interrupt, but he drove you insane. His blue eyes seemed to cut into your heart, shattering the shell you had built up over the years of ridicule over your skill level. You didnt want to get close to him in case he did the exact same thing, you weren't worthy of his attention.

Yet, he noticed you.

It had started with a bump, a accidental nudge as you set up your station. You had apologized, as your paint stained his blue jacket but he simply dismissed it.

“Its ok, art is messy,” he had said, face deadpan except for a glint in his eye that sent a flutter through you. He had simply walked away afterwards, setting his station up and beginning. Yet, you found him glancing over his shoulder at you every once in a while, falling behind on his work in favor to meet your eyes. You had smiled back at him, watching for a smile from him, but his face had remained stoic.

After the class had concluded, you stood back and admired your piece, or what you had of it. Time had gotten away from you yet again, your smock stained with acrylic despite the lack of paint on the canvas. You furrowed your brow, sighing with defeat.

“Its not that bad you know,” a voice spoke from behind you. You jumped, turning quickly to see the man in the blue jacket.

“O-oh, you think?” You stammered, watching as he stepped towards the painting.

“No, it just has a few technique issues. You have the colors matched pretty well, its just the foreshortening giving it that uneven look.” He said, turning to meet your flustered face. “My names Helen by the way, its nice to meet you,”

“Hi, my names (Y/N), im glad you like it. I have seen your work too, its beautiful,” you smiled. His face remained still as you began to pack up your station. “I love that red underpainting you do,”

His face seemed to brighten as you said this, a shocked look in his eyes. “Oh, that? Its just an old habit. It makes it look more… human.” He trailed off.

“Well i think its smart. Do you want to go eat something with me? I think we are holding up the next class,” you giggled, watching for any hint of a smile. Nothing.

“Id like that, thank you. Theres this great coffee place close to the main campus, do you like scones?”

–

It was easy to see why he liked this coffee shop, it was quiet, just some ambient chatter with excellent pastries. You werent a fan of coffee, but the tea you had bought hit the spot.

You had spent at least two hours there, just talking and flipping through each others sketchbooks. It was interesting to see how his brain worked, the hundreds of life studies in that same red wash of what seemed to be thinned watercolor. He wasnt judgmental of your works, simply pointing out some things you could change and showing you techniques on how to fix it. He complimented your cartoons, something that most people didnt take seriously as an art form.

“No, really, it is good. I cant draw cartoons for the life of me, its its own skill set. I think its cool that you can have two distinct styles, it shows range.” He flattered, taking a sip of his mocha.

You smiled, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thank you, it doesn't really get taken seriously at this art school. Its what got me into art, i wish people understood like you do.”

He set his coffee down, closing his sketchbook. “I do have to go unfortunately, but we should do this again. It really was lovely, i dont have many friends and your nice to talk to. We should come back after next class, if you want to.” He said, standing and collecting his items.

“Id love to!! And im glad i can be considered your friend,” you beamed, packing up your pens and pencils.

He looked at you, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Thank you for this, really. Be safe getting home.”

Your heart fluttered as you looked at his smile, something you didnt realize you needed until it was staring you in the face. Helen… was your friend.. at least enough to want to meet again.

That was enough for you to smile the whole way back to your dorm.

–

As the week flew by, you caught glimpses of him around campus. You had never noticed him around before, but now that you knew him, you saw him everywhere. He lingered in the shade, always drawing something in his sketchbook as people walked by. Walking from class to class became a wheres waldo game, just trying to locate him in the campus grounds. You were getting obsessive, and you knew this. It was hard not to be, he spoke with such an eloquence and was eager to teach you anything. You spent the time in the cafeteria daydreaming with a slice of pizza that you were back at the cafe with him.

Then the day came.

You sat at your easel, trying to focus on the subject and not on his presence. You wanted to impress him, show him that you had learned something from his tips. But every time you glanced over, you saw his painting getting more and more life-like and you were floored. Every time you looked at your own piece you felt discouraged. How do you get to his level?

The professors timer went off, signaling the end of the allotted painting session. You stepped back and looked at the figure you had drawn, removing your smock.

“Hey, it looks much better,” he said, walking up to see the work. “Your anatomy has improved, dont beat yourself up. I can tell you dont like it, but thats to be expected. I dont like my work either.”

You smiled, a warm flush running over your face. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Yours is better though.”

“Its impossible to compare art, since everyone has different definitions of what art even is. You saw that banana taped to the wall fiasco, didnt you?” He teased, just a hint of a grin showing through his face. You laughed, picking up your bag.

“I did, isnt that fucking awful? We paid thousands of dollars to go here and a banana beats us,” you playfully smiled, turning to walk out the class with him.

“I am more and more confused by rich people every day. I dont know if this is controversial, but i do not understand abstract art.”

–

“Cmon, you seriously have never had crème brûlée?” Helen asked, face deadpan like you had come to expect. It had been about a month and a half of weekly meet ups, and you had come to realize that he only smiled when he was ecstatic. He had smiled more and more every time you met, and he had taken the time to get to know you on a deeper level than friends. He had asked to take you out to dinner.

The text you had received from him said it was “upscale dining” and that he would treat you to whatever you wanted. Your heart had skipped a beat when you read it, a warm glow smattered across your face.

“No, i really haven't,” you grinned, taking a sip of your soda. You recoiled at the taste, a salty tinge having been added to the drink somehow. “Ew, did you put something in this?” You smacked your lips. The taste was like a warhead, an almost spicy sensation in the mouth.

“No, the waiter took your drink and i got you lime sparkling water.. i figured since you liked sprite it would be the same, im so sorry,” he smiled, watching you take another sip.

“Im trying to like it, but damn, that is NASTY,” you joked, setting the drink to the side.

“Do you want me to get you something else? I can call the waiter,” he offered, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Can i have some of yours?” You asked, a thinly veiled flirt.

You hadn't exactly been secretive about your feeling for helen, you knew he knew. He had been bringing you gifts, you had been paying for food and taking him around campus. There was a mutual fondness for each other that had lead to this first real “date” he had arranged.

“Its cherry sparkling water, id doubt youd like it anymore than that,” he sighed, watching you attempt to drink more. “You dont have to drink it you know,”

“Its a willpower thing now, i will finish this,” you asserted, watching him smile.

God, you loved that smile.

“Ok, your funeral,”

“What, you trying to kill me via carbonation?” You giggled, taking another sip and cringing.

He laughed, a rare noise from him that made your heart skip a beat. “No, i just think your cute is all. Stubbornly cute.”

You made a small noise of flustered laughter, your face going red as you buried it in your hands.

“You cant just SAY that,” you mumbled, voice muffled from your hands.

“Well its true, i cant lie to you, it would be mean,” he smirked as you uncovered your face.

Your eyes locked, a mutual smile across both your flushed faces. “Since when are you flirting with me?” You giggled, watching as his mind searched for an answer. You could see the gears turning, struggling to find an answer to your prodding. He wasnt the type to compliment, at least not in the past. He had said something here or there, but the statement played through your mind like a song.

“I dunno, maybe im losing it,” he looked away, an odd expression on his face. It was a mix of his usual blank look and something you couldnt name. Almost sad..

“Do you want to get some drinks? Or could we head back to my place?” He asked, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Y… your place?” You blushed, your mind blinking like a green light in a storm, something so beautiful and simple, it just felt right.

“Yeah, only if you want to,” he shrugged.

“Yeah ill do drinks. Im a lightweight, but id love to go back to your place! Maybe we can watch a movie?” You grinned, a happy glow on your cheeks.

“Sure, i have some streaming services. Ill get the waiter, my treat.”

–

The headlights rolled by on the dark highway, the soothing sound of the radio with the cool air making you even more tired. You had gone quiet, even though it was only 10pm, you felt exhausted. You were probably just full and happy, but in the back of your mind something felt wrong. You werent sure what it was, maybe you were getting sick.

“Do you want the aux? I hate late night radio,” he said, exiting the highway.

“Oh, yeah sure. You might not like my music, its very 2010s,” you replied, reaching for the cord sticking out from the beat up cars radio.

“I dont mind, as long as its not gonna put me to sleep,” he mumbled.

You went to lift your arm, but it was heavy. It was a strain to move your fingers, the sway of the car making your body flop to the side. You sighed, making a small grumble of confusion.

“You ok?” Helen asked, turning onto a neighborhood street.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes with a great deal of effort. “Yeah, just really tipsy,”

You looked out the window, watching as the apartment complexes rolled by and entered into a couple houses. “You live in a house? You must be rich,” you teased, the car pulling into a small mobile home.

“Yeah, inheritance money. Its not much but it works.” He put the car in park, removing the key with a click. The inner car lights came on, with you struggling to see.

“Jesus that's bright,” you muttered, opening your car door. You stepped out, swaying and stumbling on the gravel driveway.

You felt a hand wrap around your waist, a warm tingle radiating from the touch. You looked up at him, slowly smiling as you let him lead you inside.

“This is nice,” you blushed, leaning into his body. His grip on you tightened, an almost possessive grasp on your body.

“It is isnt it?” He calmly opened the door, the cool ac feeling nice on your warm skin. You hadn't realized how hot you had been until you fully entered the house, the lights clicking on revealing a cozy little living room.

“Oh wow, you ARE rich,” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“Not really, most of this is second hand. Its not really cheap living near campus, so most of my money is used on rent.” He said, removing his shoes and signature blue coat.

You went to walk forward, but stumbled almost immediately. You squeaked as you fell, quickly being caught by helen.

“Are you sure your alright? You ARE a lightweight.” He pulled you into his arms, his blue eyes quickly sweeping over you. You rested your hands on his chest, his face quickly turning red.

“Maybe.. i think ill be ok though.. at least when im with you,” you sighed dreamily, eyes softening as he led you into his living room.

“Im glad you have so much faith in me,” he teased, sitting you on the couch. “Do you want a drink? I dont have soda but i can get you a water,”

You watched him walk into his kitchen, opening the fridge. “Waters good,” you slouched back into the couch, resting comfortably in the soft cushions. He handed you a water, sitting next to you.

“What do you want to watch?” He asked, clicking on the tv.

–

You stared blankly in his eyes, spit still connecting your lips. The tv played in the background, the sound of your gasping overshadowing whatever episode of house md was on. You were more focused on his hands running up your shirt and his lips reconnecting with yours. You whined into his lips, lost deep in his love. He pushed you down into the couch, his plush lips enveloping your senses. Your reasoning was lost, you drunk him in like the water in a desert, gently resting your arms on his shoulders. He moaned a bit, moving to be fully on top of you. His pressure on your hips was a gentle one, slowly rocking into you. Your lips parted for a moment, both gasping for air.

“Please,” you breathed, a love drunk smile spreading across your face.

“Please what lamb?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your face. The pet name sent a shudders through your body, your legs spread just enough that he could wedge his leg between them.

“Please fuck me,” you moaned, head going blank as you watched his brain turning the gears.

“Cmon, say it again,” he whispered, lips meer centimeters from yours. You made a small whine of desperation, running your hands through his soft black hair. “Say it again for me,”

“Please fuck me,” you begged, louder this time. He kissed at your neck, trailing kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. He sucked at the skin, gently leaving little hickeys all over you.

“Please please please, please just fuck me,” you whimpered, listening to him humming into your collarbone.

“Thats it, good girl (y/n),” he pulled away, seemingly satisfied with the number of marks he had left all over you. “Can i take off your shirt?”

You nodded needily, lifting your arms as he quickly pulled it off. He tossed it to the side, sliding off his own shirt while you removed your pants. You kicked them off, laying in just a black bra and panties. He quickly got on top of you again, bashing his lips into yours hungrily, your mouths opening to each other. You hazily bit at his lip, gentle gasps escaping both of you as his tongue poked at your bottom lip. You let him in, whining as he ran his hand up and down your torso, sliding up and around your neck. He didn't squeeze, he just held it there possessively, claiming it as his. You deepened the kiss, rolling your hips into his as he groaned into your lips.

You parted, huffing for air as you quickly removed your bra. You laid there as he stared at your bare chest, running his hand over your soaked panties as he pulled them to the side. The tent in his boxers was noticeable, a wet spot forming on them from his precum.

“Lay back, ill give you head, please let me,” you whimpered, watching him quickly comply. You quickly got between his legs, sliding his boxers down just enough for his dick to leak onto his stomach. You pressed kisses to the cloth over the rest of his shaft, listening to him groan and feeling his twitch through his boxers.

“Can i record you? I wanna watch this back over and over to see that cute face,” he whispered, reaching for his phone.

You stared at him, baffled. You had never even considered the idea of a sex tape, no one had ever thought that highly of you, even past boyfriends had never had THAT much interest. The idea may have been strange, but you couldn't help how horny it made you.

“Please, go ahead,” you smiled, watching as his face reflect the light of the screen.

“And.. go,”

You went back to kissing through his boxers, taking care to look up at the camera while doing so. Your face was on fire, the idea of being captured like this by a camera forever was one you didnt know you liked.

“Cmon (y/n), just be good for me,” he whispered, watching as you pulled the boxers the rest of the way down. You spat on his dick, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Wrapping your hands around the base, you took the length in your mouth eagerly. He groaned, resting his hand in your hair. You sucked at him with hollow cheeks, lips and cheeks wet.

“Thats it, your doing so good,” he praised, holding your chin up while his dick popped out of your mouth. You ran your tongue up it, licking over the back while working your hand up and down the base. “Smile,”

You looked into the camera and smiled, the spit and precum rolling down your chin as you went back down on him. You slowly wrapped your tongue around him, gliding up and down his cock while he mumbled swears.

“You look so hot like that, all whored out for me. Look at the camera for me. Im gonna paint this, it's worth more that way,”

You whined, but obliged anyway. Your spit leaked out your mouth as he looked at you through the screen.

“Stupid slut,” he said, gently forcing your head down. You gagged as he kept his dick down your throat, grasping at his legs. “Hold on, just calm down for me..” he whispered, rolling his hips into your mouth as you sputtered. He let up on your head, pulling you off of him with a pop as you coughed.

“Cmon, take off your panties for me,” he demanded, a cold look on his face as you did so.

“Your not actually gonna paint this are you?” You whimpered, throwing your panties off the edge of the couch.

“Spread,�� he calmly commanded, pushing your legs apart. You obeyed, watching as he zoomed in on your dripping pussy. “Look at that, such a whore,”

You watched him gently run a finger over your clit, such a small sensation that left your thighs twitching. He pulled you into him, aligning himself with you, slowly pushing his way inside. Your head rolled back as you whined, slowly being filled up by his cock.

“Look at that, thats gonna be a masterpiece,” he growled, moving into you as slowly as he could, gently rocking back and forth into you. He put the camera into your face, gently pulling you into him by your hips. “Look at her, shes totally cock drunk,”

“Please, more,” you whined needily, rocking into him trying to get any relief.

“Shhh, art takes time, and your gonna be patient, arent you?” He looked into your eyes, his gaze going over the screen and directly at you. You nodded quickly, and he smiled. “Good girl,”

You whined as he slowly rocked into you, slowly moving his free hand to your clit. He grazed over it, earning a pathetic mewl from your lips as you tried to buck into the touch.

“No, be patient. Your doing this on my speed. Understand?”

You whined sadly but nodded. His gazed softened a bit, making a sad noise. “Your so needy aren't you lamb?” He purred, speeding up ever so slightly.

“So needy,” you sighed, gasping as he pointed the camera down at your pussy and ran a finger over your throbbing clit. “Fuck-”

“Dumb slut, im not even doing anything and your melting,” he bit, slowly applying pressure in gentle circles. He quickly wet his fingers and reapplied them, losing a bit of resolve. He began to thrust into you at a quicker pace, turning the camera back to your desperate face. “Thatll be great in a gallery,”

“Fuck, please,” you babbled, drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth.

“Cmon, thats it, just make those dumb little noises for me, stupid slut,” he groaned, quickly rutting into you. You made strangled cries, the new stimulation melting you down into a noisy mess. The camera stayed on your cock drunk face, your cries all being captured on film.

“Fuck, faster, please fuck-”

“Look at her tits, she looks pathetic.. look at the camera,” he growled, with your head quickly snapping to the camera. “Say your a whore,”

You whined, choking on your own spit. “Im a fucking whore,” you gasped, back arched as your body gave into him.

“Smile and say it again,” he moaned, keeping his eyes on the screen so he could properly get your face.

You grinned, a dopey smile across your flushed face. “Im a stupid fucking whore,” you moaned, voice becoming ragged as you uncontrollably moaned. He pushed into you quickly now, a hand holding you down by your waist.

“Whos whore?” He gasped, quickly losing control as the slapping of your wet skin got sloppier and sloppier.

“Im your- fuck- your fucking stupid whore- fuck-” you gasped, head rolling back as he panned the camera back to your pussy.

“Tell me when your close,” he huffed, digging his nails into your skin as he panted.

“Y-yes sir,” you whined, a gurgling noise rising in your throat as your moans got louder.

“Sir huh? You are so fucking cute, the neighbors are all gonna hear what a dumb whore you are. My dumb whore, my stupid- fucking- whore- shit,” he rolled his head back as you felt him tear through you, wrecking your insides.

“G-gonna cum s-sir,” you whimpered, thighs shaking as he turned the camera back to your face.

“Look in the camera and say it,” he hissed through his teeth, quickly losing control. Your body tensed, the intense pleasure rolling through you in waves

“Im fucking cumming- im fucking- ah-” you moaned, a high pitched whine escaping your throat as he pulled out and came on your stomach. You both shook, gasping for air as the hazey room fell silent. The only sound was the quiet tv in the background and your breathing.

“Shit…” helen gasped, turning the phone camera off.

“That was so good.. fuck..” you huffed, eyes half lidded and empty.

“Let me get you a towel,” he whispered, reaching for the tissues on the side table. He passed you one, wiping the cum off his dick while you wiped his off your stomach.

“God… i need this to be a permanent thing…” you smiled, watching him look at you.

“Is that you asking me out?” He asked, a shocked look on his face, one that was out of place for him.

“Yeah, i guess it is,” you smiled gently, sitting up.

“Id love to be your boyfriend,”

Fic title

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mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

Text

My strange addiction

My doctors cant explain, my symptoms or my pain

Genre: smut, very short

Characters: ticci toby, afab reader

Desc: toby had been tracking you for weeks, recording and watching, just so he could get his hands on his prize: your dirty panties

CW's: stalking, masturbation, solo toby, scent kink, some drooling, he records reader jacking off, idk man maybe exhibitionist?

Enjoy!

Toby closed his door, fumbling the handle to lock the door. He sighed, rushing over to his bed, messy and unkempt like the rest of his bedroom. His heart fluttered as he climbed into his bed, that familiar ache deep in his gut. He had caught his prize, and he was aching to reap his crop.

He slid his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pair of panties. Your panties. He had worked hard to get them, memorizing your routine and how when you went to the laundromat, you left the second load, the unwashed load, by you, and that you stepped out to smoke as soon as you started the first load. He had made sure to wear different clothes every time he had followed you in, usually trailing behind you by a few minutes. You had no idea he had been aching to feel these soft pink panties in his shaking hands, to be closer to you than he had ever been. Drool began to drip from his cheek as he ran his fingers over the crotch over and over, his dick twitching in his boxers.

He lifted the fabric to his face and inhaled, gasping and reveling in the fabrics musky scent. He exhaled with a shudder as he began massaging his dick through his tight pants, groaning as he breathed in the drug that was your scent. He trembled as he unzipped his black jeans, removing his cock and letting it free as he slid his waistband to his thighs. He spat on his free hand before running his thumb over the back of his dick, drinking in every small moment with his nose buried in your panties.

You drove him crazy, the way your tits bounced when you went on your daily run, how your ass looks when you cook in the kitchen, and best of all, when he recorded you jacking off. You had quietly let out some gasps and whimpers that just barely got picked up, rubbing a vibrator onto your clit with your fingers quickly being shoved deep into you. God you looked so cute, so delicate and innocent.

You had no idea how much toby had recorded you, in fact you didnt know he existed. But he kept recording you while that bullet vibrated away, and man did you jack off a lot. You would gasp and shake as you came, and toby would kill to hear you moan his name as you shook, clawing at his back with your legs spread open for him, sucking him in. But your panties would have to do for now, and they certainly helped toby as he imagined you slipping them off, stepping out of them before bed and discarding them like they were nothing; you had no idea how valuable the garment was to toby. Not a clue.

He wasnt sure when, but at some point he began mindlessly jacking off, his mind completely separate from his body. As he pushed his hips up into his hand, grinding into his fist, he huffed your scent in and shivered. God, it smelled so good, he wanted to drink in what these panties used to cover, give you the best head of your life and lap up your cum.

He swore under his breath, the sheer idea that he finally had a physical piece of you circling in his hazey head. He was quickly losing control over his hand, simply being driven by some primal instinct that your panties had awakened in him. He rested his head on the wall behind him, gasping as his breath shook and he got closer and closer to that edge. The images of you on his phone had never even come close to this, not even those pathetic mewls that he had been blessed with compared in the slightest.

He didnt know what sent him over first, the fact that he finally had a piece of you or the scent that dripped from the cloth. He whimpered into the fabric, shooting thick ropes onto his jeans and hand as he panted. After a moment spent gasping for air, he wiped the hot load onto his jeans and finally removed the garment from his nose. He carefully rolled them up, placing them on his nightstand with care as he grabbed wet wipes to clean himself off.

---

Song in title

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mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

Note

Hey babe can I pretttttyy please request some Ben Drowned my queen my diva literally anything smut ;) or fluff is amazing with me if not it’s totally fine much loveee <3

bro i have so much shit with ben in my notes app from a few months ago when i was fixated on him it's not even funny. headsup that i hc him as a chill ass stoner with piercings because hot! 🤓☝🏻 kissiesss enjoy <33

(also can you tell i like the word molasses lmfao)

Wetware (BEN Drowned x F!Reader)

CW: drug use and sex under the influence, oral (f receiving), face sitting and rimming, light nipple play on ben, riding, creampie

summary: you and your weed bud get bored of smoking and lounging and decide to try something new.

wordcount 5.2k + a little bonus (epilogue?) at the end because i heart ben fr

Ben’s room is a black hole of time. You’ve gotten lost in it more times than you can count—somewhere between a third bowl and the fourth replay of whatever pixelated horror game playthrough he was hyperfixated on that week. There’s no clock in here. No windows, either, not really—just blackout curtains held up with thumbtacks and stubbornness. It could be 3AM or noon, it doesn't matter.

You’re sinking into Ben’s mattress like it’s got a personal vendetta against spinal support, the springs threatening to divorce the fabric entirely every time you shift. It’s not gross, not really—just lived in. The pillows are criminally soft, like they’ve been through a hundred late-night existential crises and held strong. The air smells like weed ghosts, synthetic berry vape, and Ocean Breeze air freshener that expired in spirit if not in can. It’s too warm, too humid, your skin already buzzing under your clothes—but it's comforting. Familiar. Kinda gross actually. Whatever.

This is where you always end up. When the world gets loud, when your head’s heavier than your spine can carry, when you both decide—without words—that it’s a “fuck everything” kind of night. No better place to waste time than this little cocoon of LED hell and lava lamp glory. Neon signs blink overhead in god-awful Comic Sans. One says “NO THOUGHTS, JUST VIBES.” The other one is just a glowing PNG of Shrek’s face, flickering like it's high with you. He swears they're ironic, but you don't really believe him.

Ben’s across from you on the bed, one leg draped lazy over the side, arms behind his head like he owns the place—which, okay, he does, but it’s more about how he owns it. Effortless. Messy. Cocky in a way that never tips into annoying. His eyes catch the LED glow like they were made for it—red pinprick pupils in oceans of black, alien and warm all at once. That shaggy ass hair always in his face, and he never fixes it. You don’t think he’s looked in a mirror on purpose in years.

You’ve been his smoke buddy since forever. It just happened. One shared joint on the porch after a rowdy party in the mansion you both bailed on early, and suddenly you were always crashing here. Sometimes in the same bed, sometimes on the floor. No weirdness. No expectations. Just easy passes of the blunt and lazy banter between coughs.

But tonight’s different.

You’re both cross-legged, facing each other like it’s a summit meeting, except instead of discussing treaties, you’re cradling two little capsules in the sweaty curve of your palms.

Molly. Because weed’s gotten too safe, too expected. Too routine. You needed something new. Something soft-edged and alive under the skin. And Ben just shrugged and said, “Sure,” like you’d asked if he wanted Taco Bell instead of McDonald’s.

He rolls his capsule between his fingers. His nail polish is chipping, some see-through black from last week still clinging to the corners. You feel the shape of this night settling over you just watching his fingers move. Not heavy. Just close. Intimate in that slippery way—like if either of you thought about it too hard, it might feel like more than it is. But you’re too chill to overthink. That’s the whole point.

“Bottoms up, bro,” he mumbles, voice thick with cotton and calm, and you both knock yours back like it’s communion.

Ben’s gone quiet. Not unusual. He’s a drifter when he’s high, floats between tabs and videos and zoning out completely. But this isn’t that. He’s on his back beside you, head pillowed on his arm, watching the LED lights morph from pink to blue to red again like they’re telling a story. You’re turned toward him, fingers curled loosely under your cheek, your body floppy in that too-much-sensation kind of way. Like every nerve ending’s been gently unsheathed and is just vibing out under your skin.

You feel it in the edges first—like your thoughts are melting down the inside of your skull, softening at the corners. Breath deepens without asking. Jaw’s a little tight, but not in a bad way—like your body’s clenching in on itself, holding on before it lets go. Your heartbeat thuds a little louder than it should, pulsing in your ears like background bass. You blink slower. The lights go smeary at the edges. You feel the mattress underneath you in high-definition, every lump and warmth patch suddenly personal, almost intimate. Your teeth feel good. Everything is soft. Everything is so fucking good.

The LEDs don’t flicker anymore—they pulse. Soft waves of color across the walls. Everything feels like it’s syncing. Like the room has a heartbeat, and it’s climbing up your spine.

You and Ben haven’t said much in a while. Haven’t needed to.

The silence isn’t heavy. It’s glowing.

It’s been—what, thirty-five minutes? Forty? Doesn’t matter. You feel him now. Not just his presence, but the gravity of him. Like he’s warmer than the rest of the room. Like your chest expands more when he breathes. Like his exhale brushes your skin even though he’s a full arm's length away.

You laugh, breathless, for no reason. He turns his head, sluggish and drowsy, and smiles like your laugh was a spell.

You blink at him. He blinks back. His pupils are blown, looking like they could swallow you whole and you wouldn’t even mind. There’s a line of soft blue light tracing the bridge of his nose, the slope of his cheekbone, the little dip at the corner of his mouth.

“Shit,” he says softly, like it’s a revelation. “You look crazy good in this lighting.”

You snort, eyes rolling but heart thudding, and it’s stupid how warm your cheeks feel. “Shut the fuck up. You’re literally glowing like a Twilight vampire.”

He just grins wider, and it’s lazy and beautiful in a way that doesn’t even make sense. You’ve looked at him a thousand times—lit by smoke clouds and YouTube autoplay and dying lamps—but now it’s like his skin is gold leaf. Like every freckle, every lazy shift of his lips, every breath is shining.

“You’re high as shit,” he says, voice honey-slow, syrup-lazy.

“So are you,” you shoot back, but you’re smiling stupidly. Your face feels too big for your skull. Ben lets out this slow, breathy laugh, and fuck, even that feels good. You watch his jaw flex with the smile, the little hitch in his shoulder when he shrugs like he can’t even be bothered to be cocky about it.

He shifts a little closer. Doesn’t say anything, just lets his fingertips brush the soft inside of your wrist, featherlight, and you both inhale like it’s the first time you’ve ever touched anything. You roll your arm a little, letting his fingers graze along the underside. Your skin sings under the touch, tingles that chase each other like static up your elbow, your shoulder, your spine.

“Dude," you murmur, voice wobbly with the hug of seretonin, "touching stuff feels insane right now.”

Ben’s grin goes lopsided. “Yeah?”

You grab his hand lazily, your fingers barely holding his, just enough contact to spark fireworks in your palm. “Yeah,” you whisper, and your voice sounds thick and sweet and sleepy. “Touch my arm.”

He does. Slow, dragging his fingertips up from your wrist to your shoulder, and fuck. It’s nothing. It’s everything. You feel each ridge of his fingerprint like it’s being engraved. You suck in a breath, involuntary, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

Your fingers are still tangled with his. You roll onto your back and tug his hand with you so he follows, half-leaning over you now, both of you blinking slow, pupils so wide you’re practically seeing stars.

His hand finds your waist—slow and curious—and the second his fingers touch the curve there, you moan. Barely audible. Embarrassing. Real.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, pressing your face into your elbow. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Nah,” he says, voice dropped to something low and smooth and warm. “Don’t even trip.”

His hand spreads across your waist, fingers dragging up the fabric of your shirt, and it feels like lightning. You both start laughing, delirious and giddy, like you’re high on each other instead of this fucked up little pill you don't even remember where you got it from.

You open your mouth to say something stupid—probably “your hand feels like velvet, what the fuck”—but he kisses you instead.

And ohhh.

It’s soft. Like kissing in a dream, like your mouths are made of heat and velvet and instinct. No teeth, no rush. Just press and melt. His lip ring is warm against your mouth, smooth, the perfect little edge in all that softness. You let out this tiny sound—barely anything—and he presses closer.

His hand slides to your jaw, just his fingertips touching you, like he’s scared to press too hard and pop the bubble. His lips taste like whatever berry vape he’d been hitting earlier and maybe a little weed residue, maybe a little Ben—static? It doesn't matter. He kisses like it’s just something to do, like breathing, like gravity pulling him closer.

Your whole body is heat and nerves and cotton. You kiss back lazily, high and weightless, lips dragging open just enough to deepen it a little. Just enough to breathe into his mouth, and when you do, he shudders. Just a little. Just enough for you to feel it in your chest.

You murmur against his lips, “Is it just me or does this feel crazy good?”

His mouth brushes your jaw, his voice low and cracked open, “It’s not just you.”

Your lips find his again—hot, open, slower now. Tongue against tongue in a wet slide that feels like drowning in syrup and rapture. Your mouths fit like they’ve done this a hundred times. Like they’ll do it a hundred more. There’s nothing messy about it. No grabbing. No biting. Just this lazy, drugged gravity pulling you back into each other every time you drift a millimeter apart.

Every inch of him feels woven through every pore on your body. Every place he touches you, you feel ten times over, and it sends this slow throb through you—low, soft, but steady.

You hum against his mouth, light and dazed.

“Feel good?” he mumbles, lips brushing yours, voice scratchy like he hasn’t talked in a hundred years.

“Mmmhm.” You nod once, small. “So good I might cry.”

Ben lets out a quiet, surprised little laugh—breathy and deep, warm where it puffs against your cheek. “You’re such a lightweight.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, fingers skating under the hem of his hoodie, “you feel stupid good too.”

His breath catches, just slightly, when your palm flattens against the bare skin at his hip. He's so warm and smooth it almost feels fake. You trail your hand up, slowly, just feeling. Muscles shifting under your palm like slow waves, the stretch of them under soft skin. You feel like you could cry just from the warmth pooling in your gut.

“Jesus,” you murmur, “what the fuck are you made of?”

Ben groans, low in his throat, and that’s when he finally presses his hips just a little closer—barely a grind, barely a shift—but the heat of him slots perfectly against you and fuck. It’s not frantic. It’s not a need. It’s just there. Like his body wants to be against yours. Like it was always gonna end up here.

The throb between your legs tightens, sudden and thick, and the moan that slips out of you again sounds so helpless it makes his lips stutter on yours. He stills. Smirks a little, but his breath shakes. “That was so hot,” he murmurs, voice low and so close. “Fuck, you sound hot.”

His hands slide under your thighs, gripping just enough to guide, and you shift without thinking, letting him tug you upward and over until you’re straddling him. The movement’s effortless, but it feels like the earth tilting. Like gravity changed its mind.

Your hips start rolling before your mind can even catch up, like it just started happening. You’re barely aware of it, but the friction is fucking heaven, slow grinds over the hard line of his cock under his sweats. His hands are on your waist, guiding the motion—not pulling, just letting it happen. You kiss through it, drugged and soft and soaked between your thighs.

He’s looking up at you through drags of his mouth over yours like you hung the stars just by sitting there. He grunts, tilting his hips up into the drag of your cunt—just once, slow—and he murmurs low and sweet and way too casual for how hard he sounds, “Wanna sit on my face, pretty?”

You whimper. Like a full-body shiver that leaks out your throat. The words hit somewhere between your ribs and your cunt, hot and sudden and unbearable. You swear you nearly cum just from hearing him say it. The audacity. The casualness. You clutch at his shoulders, blink down at him like he just opened the fucking gates of heaven.

“Fucking—yeah,” you gasp, already shifting. You scramble up to your knees, laugh breaking out when you nearly fall sideways because your limbs are all molasses and light. Ben steadies you with a soft noise, then just lays back, arms folded behind his head, that stupid stoned smirk on his face like he’s the pillow now.

You pull your shirt off awkwardly—get it halfway stuck, then give up and shove it over your tits, braless and flushed and fucking glowing. His eyes drop there instantly. Lingers. His tongue wets his lower lip and he mutters something that sounds close to awe as you start crawling up his chest.

And when you do—when you finally get your knees to the mattress and your thighs cage in his face—you hesitate just long enough to process what’s happening. Just long enough to see his face under you—black eyes locked on your dripping cunt like it’s sacred, watching the sway of your tits, hands coming up to grip your thighs just under the curve of your ass, holding you steady.

“C'mon, pretty,” he groans, voice so fucking deep it vibrates through your whole lower body, “have a seat.”

Then you lower yourself—and his mouth meets you.

And holy. shit.

The second your cunt touches his mouth, it lights you up. It’s like being kissed by heat itself. His tongue drags flat and slow from your entrance to your clit, lapping with a pressure so lazy and steady it feels like it’s been happening forever. His nose presses right against you, his mouth open and eating like you’re ripe fruit—sweet, messy, tender. There’s nothing polite about it. He’s fully in it, no teasing, no precision. Exploring for himself as much as he's pleasing you.

You moan, broken and loud, hand flying to his head to hold on. His hair’s soft and sweaty, and you can feel the way his mouth curves into a grin under you.

“Jesus fuck, Ben—”

He groans, nosing deeper, sucking your clit just once—slow—and you swear your brain fractures. You jerk, thighs quaking, hands flailing for something to hold, something to feel so you don't yank on his hair because the sensation is so good it’s horrifying.

“Ben—fuck,” you gasp, breath snapping in half. “Fuck—”

His arms wrap around your thighs, strong and steady, pulling you down until you’re seated fully against his face. Sloppy, deep licks that dip and circle and press up into you with devastating slowness. He tilts his head just a bit and stays there, lips wrapped soft around your clit, tongue flicking slow, deliberate circles until your whole body is tightening.

Your body’s gone nuclear. Like your skin is lighting up, nerves raw and too alive, every drag of his tongue a lightning bolt that melts back into syrup. It’s lazy. It’s wet. You’re gushing on his mouth and he just takes it. Tongue buried, lips parted, devouring.

He hums low like it’s good, like you taste good, and the vibration punches right through your clit and lands somewhere deep in your stomach. You roll your hips once, instinctive, and a moan punches out of him right into your cunt, like you just gave him a hit of something purer than anything he’s ever smoked.

He noses up into your clit as he works, lips soft and open, tongue licking slow under the hood with maddening care. One of his hands slips up, palm cupping your hip like he’s grounding himself there, the other sliding back to your ass, pulling you closer, tighter, until your pussy grinds against him again—this time on his face.

He tilts his head just enough to suck your clit into his mouth—soft and slow and so fucking good—and your whole body jerks. Your hands tighten on the headboard, tits bouncing slightly with the movement, and Ben opens his eyes just to watch.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice muffled but needy, “ride my fuckin’ face.”

Your hips start to move without you thinking—just lazy little rocks, forward and back, riding his face like it’s the only rhythm left in the universe.

Ben’s hands tighten, fingers bruising in the best way, and his thumbs pull your cheeks apart just slightly, spreading you open so he can really lick you. You gasp again, voice wrecked. He laughs under you, muffled and arrogant and so pretty.

He watches your tits bounce softly with each breathless grind, eyes heavy-lidded and drunk with it, like he’s seeing a dream in real time. His tongue is relentless. Your thighs are shaking. And then, just to watch your reaction, his tongue slips lower, past your dripping hole, licking a slow, slick line across your rim.

Your whole body jolts like he electrocuted you. You freeze for half a second—but your pussy pulses in response, clenching around nothing so tight it aches. You can’t even speak. Your chest heaves. Your thighs twitch. And he hums, pleased, like this was the plan all along.

At first it’s just a breath. A ghost of a tease. He licks between your cheeks, slow and unbothered, casual as hell, just a lazy upward drag of his tongue over your ass. Your breath catches, whole body jolting, and you whimper—high and confused and wrecked.

You barely notice your hand creeping down your chest, palming your own breast like you need the grounding. He groans under you again, tongue still moving in sync with the tiny, wet grinds of your hips over his mouth and nose, slow and deliberate—back and forth between your soaked cunt and your ass.

You come like your body’s caving in on itself.

No warning. No rhythm. It cracks through you in pulses, long and drawn out, muscle-deep and fucking perfect—like it’s wringing you out. Your thighs lock around his head, hands flying to the wall to stay up, and your mouth drops open on a soundless moan as your whole body shudders. Pussy pulsing so tight you feel it squeeze his tongue. Brain splitting like lightning down your spine. Your muscles melt but your nerves won’t stop firing.

You feel crazy. You feel amazing. Like your brain doesn’t know what to do with all the good. The molly, the mouth on you, the weight of your body draped over his head while the room glows warm and golden around the edges. Your skin’s sticking to his in spots. Everything feels hazy and whole. Like this is the best place on earth to die.

His hands move with you—up, warm and slow, from your ass to the small of your back. One of them slides higher, fingers spread wide like he wants to hold your whole spine in his palm. The other comes around, smooth over your ribs, thumbing just under your tit before finally cupping one with lazy reverence.

Then, all slow grin and and eyes glinting redder, he mumbles,

“So, like… you gonna ride my dick too, or you need a nap first?”

You snort. Half laugh, half moan, rolling your hips once like your body’s answering before your mouth can.

“Jesus—Ben—”

But you’re already climbing back down his chest, already fumbling for his waistband like you’re drawn to it, not choosing.

He just grins up at you, eyes low-lidded and glowing.

“C’mon, dude. You gotta know I’m dying over here.”

And he is. His dick’s flushed and hard and slick at the tip, twitching against his stomach like it’s got a pulse of its own.

You wrap your hand around it, slow, just to guide him, and his hips lift like he can’t help it. You have to take a moment just to admire the throb in your hand, the flex of his stomach, the glimpse of teeth showing when they sink into his bottom lip. And when you sink down, when your pussy finally wraps around him, hot and soaked and still fluttering from your orgasm, your hips stall. His jaw drops. Both of you go still.

It’s like a fucking detonation. A slow-blooming, devastating kind of silence. It’s not even how tight you are—though you are—it’s how hot it feels. How slick, how intimate, how molly makes it feel like he’s not just inside you, but part of you. Like your whole body was waiting for this exact moment to exist. You clench once, and his hips jerk like you electrocuted him.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, voice caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

You start to move eventually. Slow. Just a tiny grind forward, a slow circle back. Not even up and down yet. Just wet, slow drags. Like your body’s trying to memorize him from the inside out. You’re both gasping, breathing harder, but there’s no rush in it. No urgency. Just pleasure. Thick and consuming.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes, barely audible, like he’s praying to your cunt. And fuck, maybe he is with the way his head drops back to the pillow, throat exposed, jaw slack, brows furrowed like he’s on the edge of something just from the way you’re grinding on him.

You drag your hands up his sides, still moving slow. The friction is everything. Your clit brushes against his pelvis with every roll, every grind, and you can feel yourself start to tremble again, thighs burning but too high to care. His hands find your hips, not to guide—just to hold. Fingers twitching like he wants to tell you to slow down—if going any slower is even possible—but his body saying otherwise.

Your palms slide under his shirt, pushing it up inch by inch. The way it rides up under your fingers makes your mouth water. It bunches under his arms, revealing his stomach, his chest, and when his pierced nipples come into view—flushed and tight from the heat of you or both—you lean down, lips brushing over one.

He twitches. Breath stutters.

You lick. Just a soft kitten lick. Then another.

Ben chokes on a moan. Hips buck helplessly up into you, cock grinding deeper inside you.

“Fuck, dude—”

You do it again. A slow lick around the ring, then another just beneath it, teasing, playful. Your hips never stop moving, just grinding down into his cock like you know how deep he is, how he’s splitting you open and making you whole at the same time.

He grabs your ass tighter now, still not forcing, just grounding, needing.

“Gonna fuckin’ cum, what the fuck," he breathes, eyes fluttering open just to watch you mouth at his chest. ��What the fuck are you doing to me.”

You grin against his skin, eyes glazed and happy and wrecked.

“Riding your dick,” you whisper, and he groans like you just blessed him.

You lean back slow, hands smoothing down his stomach again, and you plant your palms on his waist, arch your spine just to feel how your tits bounce with the motion—half for yourself, half because you know he’s watching.

His gaze stays on you like he’s seeing you for the first time and the thousandth all at once. His pupils are blown wide and bright, lips parted like he can’t even close them without gasping. There’s sweat at his hairline. His chest is heaving.

Then, for one perfect second, his face twitches. Just a shift—mouth curling up into this crooked, gritted-teeth grin like the sight of you fucking yourself on him is too much to bear but he loves it.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty it’s pissing me off,” he mutters, voice low and dazed and almost laughing.

You bark a breathless giggle and bounce a little harder on him just for that. And he groans, eyes rolling halfway back, hands flexing on your hips like he’s trying to be chill, but his body’s begging for more.

His hips roll up under yours with slow precision, timed to every bounce like a perfect rhythm only the two of you know. Slow. Deliberate. Meeting your movement with this thick, upward grind that punches a moan right out of you. Not fast, not rough—just deep. Skin slapping sticky where you’re soaked all over him now, the noise heavy and lewd.

“Yeah, fuck me, just like that—holy shit—"

He moans it like a prayer, voice cracking as you grind down harder to match his thrusts. Your clit’s catching on the base of him just right, and your walls pulse so tight around his dick you can feel the way he throbs inside you. Every drag is wet and obscene, every slide in so thick and hot it feels like your brain’s sloshing in your skull. The molly makes it bloom. Every sensation feels like it echoes, spreads, deepens.

Ben’s head drops back, throat arched, his hands gripping you firm but not forceful—like he’s bracing for impact. His abs flex under your palms every time he fucks up into you, low and slow, building the pressure like he knows you’re both about to see God in a minute or two.

“Jesus—” he breathes, jaw tight, “fucking Christ, love this fuckin' pussy, baby, ride it, c'mon—I'm close, fuck, please—”

You whimper and keep riding, chasing the drag, the slide, the stretch. The friction is everything. Wet and relentless and perfect. The way he fills you, the way your bodies meet with slick, noisy thrusts—it’s like being gutted slow, like a star collapsing in on itself.

You slam down once more and his hips snap up into you at the same time, so deep you choke, stars bursting behind your eyes, and you come. Together. Throb on throb, your bodies synced up like it's something celestial.

Second orgasm hits hard, violently soft, like you're being peeled open from the inside and having honey poured over every exposed nerve ending. Your whole body seizes up, mouth open in a silent scream as your pussy milks him through it, sucking him deeper. He spills into you with a whiny, cracked “fuckfuckfuck—goddamn—”, hips jerking, breath breaking apart against your neck as he holds you down through every pulse. You feel every throb deep inside you, feel the warmth spread between your thighs like it’s part of the drug, like it’s burning you alive from the core out.

You’re shaking. Still grinding just a little, just enough to ride out the waves. Your legs are jelly, your hands barely holding you upright as you collapse forward, sweaty chest pressed to his, your face buried in his neck.

Ben’s arms wrap around you, loose but strong, and he breathes through his nose, still catching up. One hand runs up your back, gentle, and the other smooths down to your ass again like he just needs to feel you.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment. Just breath. Just skin. Just that slow, echoing after of molly and sex and feeling way too much to care.

You don't even realize you’ve slumped off of him until your cheek’s mashed against his chest and he’s laughing, soft and breathless, palm skating down your spine with the weight of molasses.

“Bro,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded and voice fried. “That was... unholy.”

You hum something between a laugh and a wheeze, forehead sticky against his skin. “I think I saw God.”

He snorts. You feel it rumble through his chest, and for some reason that makes your heart twitch. He lifts a lazy hand to push your hair out of your face, fingers catching in it but not bothering to fix anything, just letting it tangle. His other hand's still on your ass, more out of habit than intention. Neither of you move to clean up yet. Just breathing. Heavy and slow. Still connected in the heat of it, even if his dick slipped out somewhere along the way and left a mess between your thighs.

Eventually—slowly—you peel yourself up with a grunt and a stretch, making some squelchy sound that earns a quiet “ew dude” from him and a slap to his chest from you. He wheezes out a laugh again.

“Okay, okay,” he says, sitting up just enough to grab a crumpled hoodie off the floor. He tosses it toward your legs like a sad little towel, and you use it without complaint. Still giggling, still glowing.

Once the worst of the mess is handled with zero grace and zero effort, you both flop back down into the sheets. He groans, rolls over enough to reach into the drawer next to the bed, and pulls out a pre-roll like it’s a religious relic. Or more like something to dampen the horrendous comedown that's looming just around the corner.

“You’re disgusting,” you mumble, watching him dig around for a lighter with one eye half open.

“I’m thriving,” he corrects, sparking the joint with practiced laziness. The tip glows red-orange in the blue-pink lava lamp haze, smoke curling into the air like incense for a post-sex shrine. He takes a long drag, then offers it to you without looking.

You take it, hit it, let the smoke settle in your lungs like it’s a warm bath.

Then his voice, low and sleepy against your forehead, smoke soft in his exhale, "Yo. You wanna hit Waffle House in, like, three hours?”

You giggle into his neck.

“Absolutely.”

BONUS:

The Waffle House parking lot is mostly empty, just one tired cook inside and a waitress who gave you the side-eye when you walked in to grab your to-go order like you were smuggling out contraband. Ben didn’t step a toe out of the car—too many security cams, one too many people who’d ask why his pupils are glowing red like a demon on a bender.

He waited slouched in the passenger seat, hoodie up, tapping at the cracked dashboard with fingers twitchy from the tail-end of a serotonin flood. When you slid back into the car with a bag full of grease and sugar, he moaned like you just proposed marriage.

Now you’re parked under a busted streetlamp, eating waffles and hashbrowns out of styrofoam with plastic forks, legs up on the dash, his seat fully reclined. He looks like sin. Hoodie half-off, hair a wreck, the last of the weed still burning slow in the ashtray. He smells like syrup and sweat and sex and smoke.

You're still giggling at nothing.

"Why," you say, licking butter off your thumb, "does Waffle House always taste like it was made by someone who’s lived through war."

Ben stares at you like you’re the second coming. “Because it was, bro.”

You laugh hard enough to choke on syrup, and he takes the opportunity to steal a bite off your plate with no remorse. The light from the LED “OPEN 24 HOURS” sign flashes red across his face every few seconds, making him look even less human than usual. But to you, right now, it’s just... hot. You’re high and full and floaty. He looks sticky-sweet and stoned and so fucking pretty in that lazy post-fuck way, lips glossy with syrup and smiling like a troublemaker.

You lean across the console and kiss him.

It starts soft. Just sugar on lips, mouths sticky from breakfast-for-dinner. He tastes like maple and smoke and something a little burnt, and your brain short-circuits at how good it is. You lick into it, messy and slow, and he hums low in his throat like it’s better than dessert. Your fork clatters somewhere by your feet but you don’t care—your hand’s cupping his jaw, and he’s tugging you halfway into his lap.

His tongue drags syrup off your bottom lip like he’s starving. You moan into it, more sound than intention. He grins crooked, still kissing you, still high, mumbling against your mouth:

“We might have peaked tonight, can't even lie.”

“Mmm,” you breathe back, not even pretending to disagree.

Neither of you stops. Not for a while.

Eventually, when your food’s cold and your thighs are back across his lap and he’s kissing your cheek with lazy pecks just to hear you giggle again, he sighs through his nose and rests his head back against the seat.

“I think,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple, “we should definitely fuck in this lot before we come down and contemplate suicide for the next week.”

You laugh into his shoulder.

“Absolutely.”

655 notes · View notes

mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

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toby and tim share a car in my headcanon (more like, tim has a car and toby steals it, and tim’s given up trying to get him to stop).

so imagining toby getting mad at tim, probably over something ridiculous and insignificant, and fucking you in the car until the seats are covered in your cum. a nice little gift for the next time tim drives into town for smokes.

THERE I SAID IT!!

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mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

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Coping (Tim x Reader)

NSFW | Minors DNI

Content Warning: NSFW, smoking, spanking, voyeurism (Brian), exhibitionism.

2.1K words

This is my first time writing something like this for Tumblr, I hope you enjoy!

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Typically, the proxies don't seem very interested in anyone around them. They spend most of their time running errands for the boss, and the rest of their time trying to cope with their lives and stay sane.

That's exactly how you found Tim, doing his best to cope by puffing a cigarette on the back porch. You had gone outside to get some fresh air since the cabin you were staying in was quite old and stuffy.

Although not a proxy yourself, you spent a lot of time doing jobs with Tim and Brian, and often had to stay overnight with them for said jobs. The cabin you all stayed in this time was small and long abandoned, with a front room big enough for a couch, a recliner, and a small kitchen island. The only other rooms in the cabin were a bathroom that had long ago lost it's hot water supply, and a bedroom with a full sized bed.

Tim exhaled as you approached the railing of the porch, a cloud of smoke shrouding you as you leaned on the damp banister. It was a little after two in the morning now, and you'd all be leaving the cabin soon since the job was successfully completed the night prior. The early morning air was thick and humid, as the morning dew had already fallen, and the smell of smoke clung to it like burrs.

Finally, Tim looked over to you and offered his cigarette, a habit he had formed a few months ago after a particularly gruesome job you two had shared. You took it from his hand a put it to your lips, Tim watching with a loose smile.

"Can't sleep?" He finally asked.

With a small shake of your head and the extension of your arm, offering the cigarette back to Tim, you sighed. "Not really, I'm ready to head back home and wash away this dingy old cabin in a warm shower." You looked thoughtlessly out into the woods behind the cabin.

Tim hummed a bit in agreement before continuing. "It shouldn't take long to get back, as long as Brian wakes up shortly, we can get going."

You turned, leaning back on the railing instead of resting your arms on it, and looked over to Tim. "But for the time being it's just us, huh?" A suggestive look covered your face as Tim met your eyes, understanding where the conversation was heading.

Although not romantically involved, you and Tim had been known to help each other cope in numerous ways. Long conversations at night, shared cigarettes, and shared jobs had made the two of you close over time, and eventually, the nights became filled with something else—something much better at relieving tension.

Tim chuckled slightly while putting the nearly empty cigarette out on the railing. Then, he slid in front of you, placing his hands on the banister behind you and effectively pinning you between it and him. "Well, technically, we still have company." His eyes motioned back to the cabin behind him, where Brian was still sleeping.

The two of you kept your relations very private, not wanting the boss to find out and put an end to it, and not wanting to admit that you kept each other sane, so Brian finding out was not ideal.

You rolled your eyes and, while glancing up at him through your eyelashes, crossed your arms. "You're right, we wouldn't want anyone to find out." Your voice had a challenging lilt as you half attempted to push past him. However, as soon as you closed the space between the two of you, he pushed you back into the railing and connected his lips to yours.

His lips were slightly chapped but the familiar taste of nicotine and mint served as the perfect distraction. His lips set a rhythm with yours while his right hand slowly made its way up your back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The kiss became more intense as he pressed your body into his, causing your back to arch slightly and a small groan to leave your lips.

The noise seemed to entice him more as his hand worked its way to the bottom of your scalp and suddenly tugged at a fistful of hair, causing another, higher-pitched noise to fall on his lips.

He hummed and pulled away, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck like the feeling of your skin was keeping him grounded. Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as he found a sensitive spot on your neck. "Tim..." You whined between soft mewls as he nipped at and licked the spot.

In an attempt to regain some control in the situation, your fingers slipped from his shoulders up into his hair, and you copied his earlier action with a soft tug. The noise he let out was gruff and sensual and made you let out a pleased sigh.

"Fuck, let's not waste any time." He said as he undid the knot holding your loose pajama pants in place. His left arm still pinned you between him and the railing as his right hand pushed your pajama pants over your ass and down to the ground, exposing your core to the night air.

With a quick motion, he picked you up and placed you on top of the banister, your underwear doing little to protect your ass from the damp wood under you. At this new height, your lips lined up with his once again, and you initiated this time, pushing your soft lips into his.

His hands made their way down your stomach now, slowly finding their way to your thighs, and after pushing your legs apart, they made their way down to your wet core. Tim's fingers ghosted over the damp spot in your panties, and he let out a shaky breath against your lips. His fingers wasted no time in finding your clit and rubbing circles into it through the thin layer of your underwear.

Instantly, you moaned into his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders as he took advantage of your parted lips by smashing his tongue against yours. Each time your tongues flattened out against one another, the pad of his thumb flattened out against your clit and sent intense pleasure through your body.

Like earlier, your moans seemed to make him impatient as he pushed your now soaked underwear to the side and slid two fingers between your folds. Electricity made its way up your spine as he wasted no time in sliding his fingers in and out, shallow at first but quickly all the way to his knuckles. “You’re already so wet, I bet you wanted this before you even came outside you slut.”

While trying to hold back your moans you gave his shoulder a weak slap. “Don- Don’t call me that asshole, you want this just as bad- bad as I do.” It was suddenly hard to catch your breath. The pressure building up was starting to become unbearable as his thumb found your clit again and followed the same rhythm as his fingers.

He chuckled, and moved in closer. “Oh I want it (Y/N), in fact I need it (Y/N).”

Hearing him say your name, with a slightly mocking- slightly southern accent finally made the cord in your stomach snap. Your eyes clamped shut as your cunt pulsed around his fingers. Your cum covered his fingers and the section of your panties that had been pulled to the side, leaving your skin feeling as damp as the air. Once it finally felt like you could breathe again a loud moan made its way past your lips, sending Tim back into action.

With little patience, he undid his belt buckle and pushed his jeans past his waist. Immediately, through your haze, your eyes found the bulge pressing against his underwear just before the palm of your hand did. You guided his cock out of his underwear and ran your thumb over the top of it, collecting the precum that had dripped out before using it to run your thumb over the thick vein that ran down the underside of his cock. The pressure from your thumb caused Tim to groan in almost an annoyed way.

You laughed. “Oh am I sorry, I thought you needed this?” Just as you were about to curl your fingers around the width of his dick he pushed himself flush against you and lined himself up between your folds.

“No,” He said, “I need this.” His hips jerked forward, sending so much pleasure through your system at once that the air left your lungs in one loud moan.

With a whine you immediately covered your mouth with one hand, the other wrapping around his back to support you while he fucked you into the banister. Your hand did little to stop the sounds from leaking out however, and just seemed to irritate Tim.

“What? You want’a act shy now?” He said with a smirk, pulling you off the banister and spinning you around. His left hand pushed you forward, so you were once again leaning against the railing, while his right hand lined himself back up with you. It hadn’t even been enough time for you to process the new position before he slipped back in and set a brutal pace. “You weren’t worried about Brian being here when you gave me those fuck me eyes, were you sweetheart?” His hips slammed against your ass with each thrust and his hands gripped your hips and ass harshly, digging his fingers in and causing just enough pain to balance the pleasure you were feeling.

Between the nickname and the embarrassment from the idea of being caught, the pressure building up in your lower abdomen was inevitable. Having just cum, the sensation clouded your mind and you hands instinctively flew to cover your mouth again.

With a huff, Tim grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them behind your back, pulling you off the banister so that your only support was his hold on your wrists as he bounced you back and forth on his cock. “Come on (Y/N), let me hear how much you needed this too.”

His dick hit your deepest parts so perfectly, but your stubborn attitude kept your lips sealed and only allowed whines to escape from your throat. You were successfully containing most of your moans until the palm of Tim’s hand slapped you across the ass so hard a loud moan of pain ripped past your lips. There was no time to catch your breath from the slap as he increased his pace, bucking his hips into your harder than you’ve ever experienced.

The sound of your ass bouncing off his hips and his balls swinging forward and hitting your clit with each thrust was finally accompanied by loud, whiny moans that left your lips. Incoherent babbling followed the moans as Tim rewarded you with a slap on your ass each time he could make out that you were moaning his name.

“That’s right (Y/N),” He cooed, “let Brian hear how much you needed this.” The embarrassment flooded your face with a blush and finally caused the coil to snap as you came undone all over Tim’s cock. A loud moan escaped you as you chocked on air and pleasure, your eyes rolling back as Tim continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

As you began to regain your composure, Tim’s thrusts became sloppy and his hips snapped into your ass one more time before he pulled himself out and sprayed his cum all over your ass. He placed his left hand on the banister, leaning over your back as he covered you with every last drop of his cum. “Fuck…” He groaned at the end of his orgasm as he leaned further forward and kissed the back of your head. “I’m glad you came outside.” He said to you as you continued to lean on the railing, ass pointed towards him as you caught your breath.

“I am too.” Another voice said, effectively ruining any progress you had made with catching your breath. You immediately turned, embarrassed that Tim’s cum was leaking down your legs but grateful that your underwear were still mostly covering your front.

Tim, much less stunned than you, chuckled and adjusted himself back into his pants, leaving his belt undone as he slapped your ass again while looking over at Brian. “Sorry, did she wake you?” He asked casually.

Brian leaned against the door frame, his eyes trailing up and down your body and a smirk splayed across his lips. “Oh, thank god she did…”

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Ahh there it is! Let me know if you guys like it. If you do I'll gladly write a second part where both of the boys are involved ;). Let me know if you have any requests too!

Thank you!

Bunny

188 notes · View notes

mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

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Coping Pt.2 (Tim x Reader x Brian)

NSFW | Minors DNI

Content Warning: NSFW, threesome MMF, slight blackmail, recording, spit-roasting, slight sadism, overstimulation.

3.1k words

Thank you to everyone who supported part 1, who I am to not write you a part 2? Enjoy!

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Your eyes locked with Brians, who wasn’t wearing a mask since he had just woken up. It felt like you should say something, but what could you possibly say?

His eyes traced you up and down once more before they shifted to Tim. “And how long has this little arrangement been happening?” Brian's asked with a playful lilt in his voice.

Tim chuckled a bit, but you both knew what getting caught meant. To your surprise he replied “Oh just a few times here and there, why? Upset you didn’t get an invite?”

Your jaw, much like your pants had, dropped to the floor. Your eyes finally left Brain and looked over to Tim, who smirked at you in return.

Brian let out a teasing laugh as he stepped towards you, his eyes still laid on Tim. “Don’t tease her, Tim, the poor thing looks like a deer in headlights right now.”

His comment brought you back to life, mostly due to embarrassment, and you bent down to grab your pajama bottoms off of the ground and pull them back up.

Brian, who had swiftly crossed the porch and was now standing in front of you, caught your wrist and stopped you from pulling them up all the way. Tim’s eyes watched carefully, ready to step in if needed. Brian's eyes met yours again, he was much taller than you and even taller than Tim, so in your meek state your face stayed pointed slightly downward and your eyes met his through your eyelashes. Tims earlier comment about your ‘fuck me eyes’ flashed through your mind, but you were too stubborn to break your gaze with Brian given the amount of embarrassment you already felt.

Brian’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and had your senses not been heightened you may not have noticed it at all. He smirked down at you, “There’s no need to put those back on.” He made a playful tsk with his tongue before looking up at the sky, faking contemplation. “You two could get in some real trouble if the boss found out…” He pretended to think aloud to himself, not leaving room for you or Tim to speak. “But,” He looked down at you again, “If I were somehow involved I would be just as guilty and would have to keep my mouth shut, wouldn't I?”

Tim took a defensive step towards you, placing himself behind you and effectively pinning you between he and Brian. It seemed like Tim was trying to help by putting himself face to face with Brian in case you needed support, but all it did was lock you between them and make you feel more nervous.

Your mind raced in response to Brian’s suggestion. You knew that Brian had been with the operator the longest, and that over time the degradation of his humanity led to some more deranged habits, but this was a bit much even for you. On one hand, even the thought of repercussions from the operator sent a chill down your spine, but the embarrassment from this whole event ran rampant in your mind.

Keeping your eyes locked on Brians, you tilted your chin up a little to feign confidence and finally asked “Are you trying to blackmail me, Brian?”

Brian’s hand released your wrist and he put his hands up defensively, a confident smirk covering his smug face. “No no, of course not. I’m sure you two considered all the possible outcomes of your time together.”

Tim stepped in closer, attempting to size Brian up but really just pressing himself closer to you, a reminder of the previous events. “Brian,” he said with a warning but non-hostile tone, “Stay out of this.”

Brian chuckled, eyes leaving yours and finding Tims. Your eyes, finally released from his gaze, trailed his form. His loose pajama pants had been tussled by sleep and hung loosely around his hips, a black t-shirt covered his torso but not his arms, showing off his toned biceps and forearms. His hair was slightly disheveled and the playful look in his eyes made a familiar feeling stir in your stomach. “Or what, Tim?”

“Or-” Tim began but was cut off.

“Okay.” You said, causing both boys to look down at you in surprise. Brian quickly recovered from his shock and a confident look fell on his face. “Well,” you continued, “it is our fault we woke you, and I don’t really want anyone else to find out, so just this once…”

That was all it took for Brian to throw you over his shoulder, your pants forgotten on the porch, and carry you into the house. Tim was quick to follow behind, unsure of the role he played in this situation but not willing to be left out. Brian tossed you down onto the couch, a bit of dust flying off its surface, and turned to Tim who was standing behind the couch now. “Why don’t you show me just what it is that you two have been up to?” He leaned back a bit, arms crossed cockily over his chest.

Tim huffed in disbelief, “You kinky bastard, stop toying with her.”

The room's atmosphere had changed and you could tell that both men were eager to be involved in whatever was about to happen, regardless of the current tension. The way their eyes trailed your figure made you clench your thighs together a bit tighter, hoping to create some friction and relief. After a moment you finally responded, turning around and planting your knees into the couch that Tim was standing behind. Your knees supported you as you leaned forward slightly on the back of the couch, planting your face directly in front of Tim’s belt buckle. Again, you looked up at him through your eyelashes, something you were beginning to learn made him weak. Although it was unlike something you had done before, the situation was starting to make you very turned on and, after completing a successful job, it felt like something you could reward yourself with. You unzipped Tim’s fly, belt still unbuckled from earlier, and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Innocently, you asked “Should I stop, Tim?”

Tim gornaed and as soon as you felt his hands in your hair and heard a chuckle escape Brian's throat you realized there was no going back. You pushed down Tim’s jeans and underwear, allowing his cock to fall in front of your face. The smell of sex evident and you blushed when you remembered that it was your smell- not a bad one, just earthy and lewd. Tim’s fingers pulled on your hair as you finally placed a few kitten licks on the tip of his cock, nervous that Brian was watching. Gaining a bit of confidence, you hollowed out your cheeks and took his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

Tim groaned above you, guiding your head further down his cock until your throat wouldn’t allow you to go further. His dick blocked your airway, causing blood to rush to your head and making your pussy flutter.

You started to get into things, bobbing up and down on his cock freely when a small, high-pitched beep was heard from behind you. Brian was directly behind you, and even though you couldn’t see the camera, you knew he was pointing it right at you. You hesitated, a whine escaping your throat and sending vibrations through Tim’s cock. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hair, opting to push your head back and forth for you despite your hesitation. “Just foc- focus on me right now sweetheart.” Tim muttered out through his thrusts.

Another whine left your throat, the saliva pooling up in your mouth combined with the length of his dick making it difficult to breathe. Drool began dripping down your chin and onto your shirt as your mind grew hazy but just before your vision grew too spotty, Tim pulled his cock from your mouth. A string of saliva connected your panting lips to his cock and after blinking the vision back into your eyes you saw the camera pointed right at you, capturing everything. “Br- Brian, get that thing out of my face…” You heaved, trying to catch your breath.

“How could I? I wouldn’t want to miss any of this.” His voice was playful, but he eventually did set the camera down on the side table, pointed right at you. He approached you from behind and looped his fingers around the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it off of you and setting it to the side. Your chest was now completely exposed since you hadn’t been wearing a bra with your pajamas, and the only thing that covered you were the underwear you had already been fucked in.

Goosebumps pricked your skin from the breeze that now surrounded your nipples and a small gasp left your lips. Tim released a low, guttural sound in response and looped his fingers back into your hair. “Fuck, I love when you make those little noises…” He yanked on your hair, causing you to let out a louder yelp of pain and pleasure.

Brian’s hands found your hips and pulled them back, making you lean further into the backrest of the couch. “I wonder what other noises she makes.” He pondered to Tim before pulling your panties to the side again.

“Guys-,” You spoke up, a bit panicked from the sadistic energy filling the room. “Let’s not get too carried awa-!” Your sentence was cut short by another tug to your hair by Tim, who seemed eager to hear more of your noises.

“I think we’re beyond that point (Y/N)...” Tim said in response, looking down at you and releasing some of the pressure on your scalp. His free hand found its way down to your breast, and he ran the pad of his thumb over your nipple. A slight shiver racked your spine as you let out a breathy exhale.

The sound of shuffling came from behind you as you realized that Brian was stepping out of his pajama pants. You couldn’t hear him take it out, but suddenly felt his warm, smooth cock fall against your ass. Tim didn’t allow you to turn your head and look at it but you knew it was huge from the feeling alone. The situation finally dawned on you, “wait- both of you-?” you asked, but had already been answered as Brian lined himself up with your entrance.

Brian’s fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as he finally slipped into you, a satisfied sigh leaving his mouth. He didn’t slam into you like Tim did earlier, but his girth stretched you regardless, sending pain through your core.

“Oh, fuck-” you cried out. Luckily, the pain quickly turned into pleasure as Brian set a calm pace. You were already wet from earlier with Tim and from the build up leading to this, so you felt every detail of Brian’s cock as it pumped in and out of you. Your eyes looked up at Tim again and even with hazy vision you could see the way his eyes darkened as he watched.

“Make some noise for me, pretty girl.” Brian cooed from behind you. You shook your head no and kept your lips sealed, closing your eyes so that you could concentrate more.

Tim yanked on your hair again, the hardest he had so far, causing a slutty moan to rush past your lips and your eyes to jolt open. “I think she likes it more rough, Brian.” Tim said with a devilish chuckle.

“Guys-” you started but were cut off again but the snap of Brian’s hips into your ass, he was starting to set a rough pace. If it weren’t for the immense pleasure filling your lower stomach, you would probably be annoyed by their disregard for what you had to say. Brian’s new pace had your head spinning and small moans slipping past your lips, both boys seeming to eagerly soak in the sounds.

Tim huffed a bit and grabbed your chin, pushing your lips apart and lining his cock back up with your mouth. You had just enough time to take in a shaky breath as he pushed past your lips and began to fuck your throat in tandem with Brian.

The camera recorded every filthy moment. The way your back arched and pushed your ass in the air, providing easy access to Brian. The way his fingers dug into the soft skin of your ass, and the sound his hips created when they slapped into your wet core. The camera, like their eyes, greedily watched the way drool pooled from your mouth and onto your tits as Tim fucked your throat, and the way his hands tangled fistfulls of your hair.

The sensations were too much, especially since Tim had already made you cum twice prior, and the cord in your stomach was coiling tight once more. Whines escaped your throat along with the sounds of choppy breaths when you got the chance to get some air.

“Damn Tim, I can’t believe you were going to keep her to yourself.” Brian said as his hands drifted across your ass.

Tim groaned, bottoming out in your throat. “Yeah well don’t get too used to it, she’ll always come back to me in the future…” You whined at Tim’s words, not liking his challenging tone.

Apparently, Brian noticed the challenge as well, and to your shock accepted it by sticking his thumb into your ass while he fucked you. A loud whine of pain and pleasure pushed past your throat and into Tim’s dick, causing his thrusts to grow sloppy. “We’ll see about that after today, won’t we?” Brian mused.

The cord in your stomach was unbearably tight but luckily it seemed like Tim was in a similar position. Having already cum and fucked your throat for so long now, his thrusts grew sloppy and it wasn’t long before he shoved his dick as far back into your throat as he could and came. He moaned as you tried your best to swallow everything you could, but with the pace Brian was fucking you it didn’t leave you much capacity to think or act. Some of Tim’s cum dripped past your lips and onto your chin, making you feel filthy and scandalous.

Tim stepped back, giving Brian the room to push you further forward into the back of the couch, your chest being pushed down against it as your ass stuck higher into the air. Your hands grabbed at the top of the couch’s backrest, trying to ground yourself as Brian fucked your mercelessly into the couch, moving it slightly.

After a moment, Tim recovered enough to grab the camera from the side table and point it right at your face.

“Good idea, Tim.” Brian said with a groan as you screwed your eyes shut, embarrassed to be so obviously recorded. Tim chuckled at your defiance and pressed two of his fingers to your lips, shoving them into your mouth and making you gag on them. You got the message loud and clear and looked up at the camera with a pleading face. Every time Brian thrust into you it pushed you forward into the couch, and closer to the camera. Tim shoved his fingers down your throat and lower into your mouth, flattening your tongue and causing you to whimper.

Brian stopped for a moment, making you whine since you were so close to cumming, but he placed one of his legs on the couch and quickly resumed his pace. The new angle was intense, allowing his large cock to bottom out completely as his balls slapped you with every thrust. A loud, long moan slipped past your lips and when Tim pulled his fingers from your mouth the room filled with more moans.

“Come on sweetheart, show Brian how pretty you are when you cum.” Tim said sweetly in front of you.

Finally, you came, letting out a loud- almost sobbing moan and pressing yourself back onto Brian’s cock, desperate to be fucked while you came. The orgasm was your third of the morning, and was so intense leaving your legs trembling and vision blurring.

Brian was happy to fuck you through your orgasm, but was even more happy to continue fucking you after it finished. “Good girl.” He muttered as he continued to thrust into your cervix.

“Fuck, Brian- too much…” you babbled on, overstimulated. He chuckled, but refused to let up, enjoying the way you babbled and moaned in your hazy state.

“It’s oka- okay, pretty girl.” He groaned behind you, his thrusts beginning to become sloppy. He pulled his thumb from your ass, causing you to whine at the sudden loss of pressure, before he pulled himself out and came across your ass and back like Tim had earlier. He let out a husky moan from behind you as he finished, taking a moment before stuffing himself back into his underwear.

You shuttered, covered in cum and sweat as the damp morning air clung to you, even from inside the old cabin. You were too overstimulated to care about how your mouth hung open as you panted, or how your reddened ass glistened with cum as it stuck up in the air, but the camera cared. Brian took the camera from Tim’s hand, panning over your body as you regain your composure. “You look unreal.” He finally said, and if he hadn’t just fucked you so hard you’d call him a pervert, but you didn’t have it in you anymore.

“Fuck, I- I need a shower.” You panted out, preferring to take a cold shower than stay in this compromised position any longer.

Tim, still in his underwear, walked around the couch and picked you up, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. “Alright, I think you’ve earned your shower. Let's wash this dingy old cabin away then, sweetheart.” Tim said teasingly, recalling the comment you had made earlier that morning.

You sighed with relief and closed your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom. When he set you down and turned the water on, your eyes opened again, surprised to see that Brian had followed you both to the bathroom.

Standing between the two boys in the bathroom, something told you that this wasn’t the last time something like this would happen between the three of you.

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Here it is! I hope you enjoyed. Now I'm thinking about writing a third and final part where its a steamy (but cold water lol) shower scene. Let me know what you think!

Bunny

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mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

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Coping (Tim x Reader)

NSFW | Minors DNI

Content Warning: NSFW, smoking, spanking, voyeurism (Brian), exhibitionism.

2.1K words

This is my first time writing something like this for Tumblr, I hope you enjoy!

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"Can't sleep?" He finally asked.

Tim hummed a bit in agreement before continuing. "It shouldn't take long to get back, as long as Brian wakes up shortly, we can get going."

The two of you kept your relations very private, not wanting the boss to find out and put an end to it, and not wanting to admit that you kept each other sane, so Brian finding out was not ideal.

The noise seemed to entice him more as his hand worked its way to the bottom of your scalp and suddenly tugged at a fistful of hair, causing another, higher-pitched noise to fall on his lips.

He chuckled, and moved in closer. “Oh I want it (Y/N), in fact I need it (Y/N).”

“No,” He said, “I need this.” His hips jerked forward, sending so much pleasure through your system at once that the air left your lungs in one loud moan.

Brian leaned against the door frame, his eyes trailing up and down your body and a smirk splayed across his lips. “Oh, thank god she did…”

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Ahh there it is! Let me know if you guys like it. If you do I'll gladly write a second part where both of the boys are involved ;). Let me know if you have any requests too!

Thank you!

Bunny

188 notes · View notes

mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

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Inspired by this comment on the first part:

Couldn’t stop thinking about it lmfao so thank you

Clouded By The Smoke [Pt. 2/Epilogue]

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

Part One

WC: 3.4k

Summary: Snapshots in time as you try to convince Toby he’s worthy of being loved. A chronological breakdown of his willpower.

CW: 18+ content, sort of detailed sexual content, biting and marking, dealer!Toby, he’s an ass but he’s aware and feels bad about it, drugging, recreational drug use, addiction, drugs other than weed, toxic relationships, codependency, denial of feelings, angsty angst, hurt + sort of comfort, ‘I can fix him’ ass mindset, but it kinda works, reader deserves better

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Acts written here aren’t meant to be endorsed or romanticized - be kind to yourself!

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

“Do you remember what I said to you, last time I was here?”

It’s a Monday, or maybe it’s a Tuesday - you’re not quite sure. Days seemed to blur together into one big pile of thoughtless mush ever since you met Toby. But, one thing was certain; you were here again. In his room, swaddled in a blanket as you sat curled up on some lumpy old beanbag chair - staring up at him where he sat at his desk.

It was an old thing. Paint flaking off and chips in the wood, stickers plastering almost the entire thing, burn holes from cigarettes littering the spaces in between. He’s busy, listening to you absently, a cigarette dangling precariously out of the corner of his mouth as he works.

It’s a sight that had made you gut twist the first time you sat close by and witnessed it, but now it was just something you had grown accustomed to. Sometimes, it’s weed, sometimes it’s pills. Right now, he’s sat with a scale in front of him, the hood of his sweater pulled over his head as he measures out scoop after scoop of white powder. One gram each, exactly, and then he’s transferring it into a little plastic baggie - sealing it, then tossing it into the little pile he had accumulated next to him thus far.

You watch as he wipes the excess powder off of the scale with his finger, cringe a little when he swipes it across his gums before brushing his hand off against his pants. So casual with it. Like you were the crazy one for abstaining.

“What you s-said to me?” Toby murmurs back to you softly, raising an eyebrow though he doesn’t look at you. “I dunno. You say a-a lot of stupid shit, hard to keep track.”

“Don’t be a dick.” You scoff, lips twitching down into a frown as you tug the blanket further over yourself. You had only smoked a little bit today, not enough to cloud your mind over, certainly not enough to put your thoughts to bed.

“Not being a d-dick.” Toby snorts, before letting out a soft sigh and finally directing his gaze over to you. He leans back in his chair, the beat down furniture creaking under his weight, eyes half lidded where they hone in on you through the strands of his messy hair. “I also say a lot of d-dumb shit. That’s why we’re so g-good together, eh?” His lips stretch up into a lazy little grin, one hand reaching up to adjust the hood of his sweater. “Just t-two fuckin’ idiots.”

Any other time you would’ve laughed and agreed with him, but not right now. Not when your thoughts were so loud that it made your ears ring.

”Toby.” You let out a soft sigh, your eyes tired as you look at him. Really look at him. The freckles that stain the bridge of his nose and trickle down his cheeks, the scars and blemishes, the bags under his eyes - drooping lids with dilated pupils. Hidden under his hood his hair is knotted and unruly, but it's soft, you know it is. “I told you I loved you.” You don't even try to beat around the bush. There’s no point. You feel like ignoring it would hurt just as much as coming clean.

And you’d swear you stopped time for a moment, with the way he froze completely. His body stiffening, jaw tensing up. Eyes going wide in shock for a moment as he stares down at you. Silent for a few moments before he’s raising an eyebrow, eyes narrowing.

”You re-remember that?” He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m surprised. You were puh-pretty fucked up.”

”I remember because I meant it.” You insist, sitting up a bit, leaning forwards to get closer to him. Or maybe, you were just drawn in by the sweet raspiness of his voice - like a fish snared on a hook, ready to be reeled in. “You know I meant it.”

“No you didn’t.” Again, denying you so easily. Breathed out without an inch of sorrow, like he was just discussing the weather - not the tribulations of your heart.

”I did.” You frown, eyebrows scrunching together. “You can’t just keep denying it like that’ll make it true.”

”Yeah, I can.” Toby shoots you a pointed look out of the corner of his eye before stretching his legs out and using them to roll his chair back closer to his desk. “You d-don’t love me.” Said as a fact. “You wouldn’t even fuck with me at all if I didn’t keep you l-loopy.” He fishes into the front pocket of his hoodie, pulls out that same old grinder he’s had for years, and you let out a soft breath through your nose.

”I would.” You tell him, watching as he unscrews the lid and sets it on his desk. Eyes tracking him the entire time he reaches down to grab the bong that lay in rest on the ground next to his desk. “I’m barely even high right now.”

”Uh huh.” Toby doesn’t sound convinced, his fingers trembling as he scooped up a pinch of herb and packed it down into a bowl. “Well, you should be.”

He doesn’t take the hit himself, just packs the bowl right to the brim then extends the bong out to you - his other hand tossing a lighter into your lap. “Take that, a-and just shut up about it would you?”

And you do.

A week later you’re sprawled on his couch. Head on his lap, one of his hands lazily carding through your hair while the other one fiddles with a remote for the game he’s playing on his console. Something low energy, you watch with hazy vision as he places block after block in the Minecraft world he’s been curating for quite a bit now.

There’s a joint between his lips. Puffing on it every now and then just to keep the cherry lit, his eyes focused on the screen before him even as the wisps of smoke obscure his line of vision. He’s shirtless, scars and bruises on full display - things that he never gave you a clear explanation for whenever you asked.

’D-Deal gone wrong.’

’Snagged myself ho-hopping a fence.’

’None of your business.’

You sometimes wondered if he’d ever fully let you in. You always wonder if you’ll ever care that you’re pretty sure the answer is ‘never’.

”Toby.” You murmur to him softly, gazing up at him with hazy eyes. His fingers twitch against your head at the sound of his name on your tongue, before he’s back to moving them through your hair - blunt nails scratching soothingly against your scalp. “I love you.” You try again, wondering if he’ll accept it this time.

And he doesn’t, but close.

”Yeah?” He doesn’t look down at you, just lets out a little hum as his free hand fiddles with the joystick on the controller. The cherry at the end of the joint crackles when he takes a drag, smoke slipping out of his nostrils when he exhales. “What do you l-love about me?”

”You’re sweet.” You hum back to him. “Strong, caring, funny.” His fingers still, and you’d swear his breathing is shakier next time he breathes out. “You take care of me.”

”I make you w-worse.” He corrects you. “I drag you d-down to my level. I don’t know who you th-think I am, but I’m not some fuckin’… Prince Charming.” When he reaches up to pull the joint from his lips, a spot of ash falls right onto your cheek. You don’t even flinch. “It’s bad e-enough you’ve stuck around this long.”

”I like being around you.” You murmur back to him, eyes tracking his every movement when he reaches down to wipe the ash from your cheek, his calloused thumb smoothing against the softness of your skin.

And he chuckles. Soft, mellow, amused.

”You shouldn’t”

But you do.

“I love you- Toby, I-“

His fingers dig deep into the soft flesh of your hips, fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents behind now, and surely bruises in the future. His body curled over yours, his chest flush with your back as he presses you down into the mattress. Sweat dripping off of his hair and onto your neck, lips parting in a moan that vibrates against your shoulder.

”I know, I know.” Gritted out like it pains him, his eyebrows furrowed together every time his hips snapped into yours. Actions desperate, needy, selfish in the way he took your body like he owned it. “F-Fuck- I know-“

Your jaw drops slack as drool seeps from your lips and stains his pillow, joining the marks from your mascara that was already smeared there. Sniffling, whimpering, sobbing as his body all but suffocated you - just bordering on the edge of being too much to handle. Overwhelming, disorienting, but he always was. Like those qualities were ingrained into his very essence. “Stupid- So fuckin’ stupid-“ Muttered under his breath, strained and shaky - just barely slipping past your foggy mind. You were too busy trying to remember how to breathe, his words were falling on deaf ears.

But maybe that was a good thing, because you probably would’ve taken it the wrong way.

His teeth scrape against your shoulder before they’re sinking in deep - snarling in a bite that has you choking out a broken cry and jolting beneath him. A stinging ache that made your gut twist, and yet it was welcome. You arched into it, fingers curling into his bedsheets. Grip so tight you might just rip them.

Your body feels like its floating, his body heat melting you into a puddle beneath him. Breaking you down like he always did, reducing you into a mess of sweat and tears he’d have to mop up when it was all over. “S-Say it again-“ Gasped out as he feels you twitch around him, clawing at your hips as he pins you down against the mattress. Near punishing in his actions, not giving you even a second of reprieve even as you struggle to breathe through moans and cries. “Again-“

”I love you-“ Right as you cum. The confession dripping with desperation and desire as you tremble and twitch beneath his scalding hot form. Stars in your eyes, vision blurry, tears wetting your skin as you bury your face in his pillow.

And he just knows you mean it.

“C’mere.”

You barely even have a second to respond before Toby’s greedy hands are already grappling at you and scooping you up from where you sat on the floor beside him. Pulling you onto his lap so easily, because your body was still so limp and pliant from whatever he had fed you earlier. Your chest is heaving, breathing ragged and uneven, eyes unfocused and hazy when they drift upwards to look up at him.

And for once in his entire life, he feels bad. “T-Too much?” He asks you softly, lifting both hands to cup your face and try to steady you - his eyes honing in on the sight of you. Flushed and incoherent, your pupils pinned right out when he looks into your eyes. You can’t even focus on him, staring through him rather than at him - like you’re not even there. “Fuck, baby..” He’s muttering out softly, smoothing his thumb across your lower lip, wincing when your mouth drops open and drool wets his fingers. “Hey. T-Talk to me.”

”S’fuckin’…” You sway in his hold, lips stretching into a goofy grin as you lean into his touch. “Can’t- Can’t feel my fuckin’ face.” You snort out a little giggle, wriggling out of his hold to press your face into his neck. So loose and sloppy, like you were melting in his lap.

”Y-Yeah, I bet.” Toby hums softly, reaching up to pet your hair softly as you murmur incoherencies against his skin. It’s gibberish. Just a whole lot of nothing, spit out between snorts of laughter and little hiccups. He can feel your heart beating against his, absolutely slamming against your rib cage. “You-You’re alright though, right?” His other arm wrapping around you, cradling you against him - like he was trying to protect you from the world. Though, he was the real danger, and both of you knew that. “Just re-really fucked up?”

“Really fucked up.” You repeat back to him, words slurred and laced with laughter. Skin sticky with sweat, your hair matted to your forehead.

”Let’s get you s-some water then.” He hums, before standing up and bringing you with him. Easily, letting you cling to him like a koala as his hands slip down to cup the backs of your thighs. Through his apartment he walks, kicking a few empty solo cups out of the way as he makes it to his kitchen.

Grabbing a mug out of the cupboard before setting you on the counter, one hand on your waist to keep you steady while his free hand fills it up at the tap. “Open.” As he presses it to your lips, his eyes soft and fond as he feeds it to you. One gulp after another, his other hand cupping your jaw to keep you from swaying. “Atta girl. Th-There you go.”

“Toby.” You slur out once you're finished, nudging the mug away with your face as you gaze up at him. Glassy and unfocused, but they don’t drift from his face. “I love you.”

Toby lets out a sigh, his expression melting just a little bit more. You thawed him. Chipped and cracked at the ice day after day, never giving up on him, even when he put you in situations like this. Looking up at him like a saviour, even when he was the serpent in the garden.

”I love you too.” He only says it back because he’s sure that you wont remember it at all. Something he could get off of his chest, but easily deny if ever confronted. And it hurt him to say, like pulling teeth the way he had to force the words out of his lungs.

Not because he didn’t mean it.

But because he did.

“You-You should stop c-comin’ over here.”

Not inside, but on his front porch. The cool evening air tickling your bare skin each time a breeze ripples past. Toby sits beside you, fiddling with a lighter as he toys with a cigarette between his teeth. “S’not g-good for ya’.” A breath, and then; “I’m not good for ya’.”

”I know.” You don’t even try to fight his words. Try to assure him that he’s not nearly as horrible as he seems to think he is. Because he is, and you both know it. “I still love you though.”

Toby lets out a soft sad laugh. Pained, broken in the way it cracks and shakes. It’s not the sweet, honey-smooth sound you’ve grown accustomed to. It’s hollow and strained. It’s sorrow wearing a disguise of nonchalance.

“You’ve g-got to stop saying that shit.” He breathes out, casting you a sidelong glance before taking a drag. Pulling the smoke into his lungs like the burn might just overpower the ache in his chest. “You’re not benefitting anyone.”

”No?” You watch him, chin resting on your palm, eyes tired and yet they still glitter with adoration. “Then why haven’t you kicked me to the curb, if it annoys you so much?”

Why hadn’t he? The answer was easy. He had told you when you were fucked out of your own mind, too stubborn to let it grace your sober ears. Stubborn, or scared? The more he thought about it, the more it was starting to seem like the latter. You were a comforting constant to him. Someone who was always around, even when he didn't ask for it. Never chastising him, never trying to steer him away. onto some better course of life. Just silently accepting. Picking up all of the flaws he laid out for you and cradling them close to your chest.

You were scary. Terrifying. Because you had done what a lot of people had attempted and failed at. You made him want to be better.

And maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad if you had tried to shove the notion down his throat. Act like everyone else, call him a failure and a waste of space. You didn’t do any of that. You didn’t even try. Just you being around had brought it out in him.

He saw what he was doing to you, what he was doing to this sweet precious life. Tainting it, ruining it. Dragging you down into his depths and drowning you, stealing the air from your lungs while you wore a blissful smile.

It made him want to repent. To ask a god he didn’t even believe in for forgiveness.

Not you, because he knew you’d give it to him in a heartbeat and he didn’t deserve that. He deserved to grovel at your feet, to kiss the ground as you walked out of his life.

“You d-do realize that you could do so much b-better, right?” He asks you softly, his voice low - knowing that if he raised it anymore it would crack. “You shouldn’t settle f-for this. Shouldn’t w-want this. No one should want his.”

”You don’t get it.” You hum back to him, hair blowing him the wind. Soft and feathery. His fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch it. “I don’t want this, I want you. Just you. No matter who you are or what you do.” You watch as his fingers tighten their grip on his cigarette, looking damn near close to snapping it in half. “You could be who you are right now, or you could be some fuckin’ big shot CEO and I’d still feel the same. It’s not what you give me, its who you are.”

And how is he supposed to fight with that? How can he argue when you’ve laid it all out clear as day? Spelling out your devotion in a way he could only ever dream to. Eloquent. Brave. And yet he sat beside you with a lump in his throat, rendering him mute.

It takes him a few moments, a stretch of silence settling down over the two of you as his gaze drops down to his feet. Trying to figure out what he could say to even come close to what you had just told him. Wracking his brain, filing through his thoughts and finding the exact same thing spelled out in every single folder.

So eventually, he has no choice but to spit it out.

”I love you too.”

—————————————————————————

Hi lmfao im back at it with this mess. I just could not get this thought out of my head, angsty dealer!toby has my heart and im forcing you all to partake in this with me 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

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mrstobyrogers · 3 months ago

Text

Clouded By The Smoke

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW]

WC: 5.4k

Summary: No matter what you do, you just always find yourself crawling back to him - just the way he likes it.

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, toxic relationships, dealer!Toby, drugging, recreational drug use, drugs other than weed lol, intoxication, dubcon, wet and messy, biting and marking, unsafe sex, creampie, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, masochistic tendencies, lowkey sadism, dacryphilia, free use if you squint, hair pulling, overstimulation, codependency, established relationship, but its horrible, ‘i can make him worse’ fr fr, Toby’s an asshole, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms (female), lowkey hurt no comfort, like a sprinkle of angst, they’re horrible for each other

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Acts written here aren’t meant to be encouraged or romanticized - be kind to yourself!

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve found yourself in this exact same situation.

Sprawled out on Toby’s bed, hair fanned out in a halo around your head, limbs feeling light and loose as your hazy eyes stare up at the ceiling. Stripped out of your hoodie because you had started to sweat, one of Toby’s old t-shirts and a pair of sweats hanging loosely off of your body.

You can hear him beside you, sitting on the floor, back rested up against his bed as he packs another bowl for himself - glass clinking as he taps the side of it with his lighter. You had tried to keep up with him, you always do, and that’s a common mistake you always make. You’d think you would’ve learned by now. Toby lived for this shit. Breathed in more weed smoke than pure oxygen, fully functional on an amount that had you near brainless. You’re hazy, loose, body somehow feeling both light and heavy at the same time as you sink into his sheets - counting each crack in the ceiling to give your mind something to focus on.

You had met him months ago, and it had started out as innocently as it could with the nature of your relationship. Your old dealer stopped selling, and the dispensary shit was too expensive for you to justify. You needed something good, but also affordable. That’s where Toby came in. Introduced by a friend of a friend of a friend, you didn’t know anything about him when you first met up - but you also didn’t need to. This wasn’t a friendship, this was a transactional relationship. Meeting for mere moments at a time, counting the bills you gave him before slipping a little plastic baggie into your coat pocket. He didn’t say much, didn’t linger. Just gave you what you needed, then gave you a slight wave before disappearing off again.

And it went on like that for a while. Meeting up with him every week, handing him cash, getting a nice chunk of kush in exchange.

Until one day, he offered more.

“Got some new shit.” He muttered after stuffing your cash into his back pocket. “You can try it, i-if you want.”

“I don’t have any more money.” You had told him. “I only brought enough to cover my pickup.”

“No charge. I-It’s on me.” He had smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tilted his head to the side. “Least I could do. Y-You’re a loyal customer.”

And that, was the catalyst. You had accepted his offer. Let him lead you away to some shitty, beaten down apartment not too far from your meetup spot. You let him smoke you out, let him pack you bowl after bowl, clouding the air of his room with smoke so thick it made your eyes burn. Watched him grow looser, lighter, as you did the exact same. Got so giggly and pliant, eyes drooping as your lips wrapped loosely around a joint you definitely didn’t need.

You let him get closer. Let him join you on the bed. Let him fuck you. You wondered if that was his entire plan, when he invited you over. But, the weed was good and the sex was even better, so there were no complaints on your end as your body arched into his - skin slick with sweat as his hips met yours.

After that, it became a common occurrence. You didn’t even pay anymore. Not in the traditional sense. You just showed up, looked cute as he fed you drugs, then spread your legs when he asked for it. Degrading? Definitely. Demoralizing? Probably. But he felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deep into it.

So you kept coming back. Over and over and over again. That’s why you were here right now - not because he had asked you, but because you had knocked on his door. “Feelin’ it?” His voice is thickened by smoke when he speaks to you next, tilting his head back to look at you before he breathes out a thick cloud.

“Yeah.” You breathe back out, lazily directing your gaze back over to him. Breathing heavy, skin feeling tingly. “Shits strong.”

“You-You would think that.” Toby rolls his eyes, setting his bong on the ground next to him before swivelling his body around - peering up at you from the floor as he rests his arms on the mattress. “Fuckin’ lightweight. You’d th-think your tolerance woulda gone up by now.” His eyes are fixated on you, the sight of you nearly limp, just absolutely sinking into his sheets. He smirks to himself, reaching up to pull his goggles out of his hair and set them on the ground as well. “How many t-times have I smoked you out now?”

“I dunno.” You giggle back to him, before hauling your weighted body onto your side so that you can look at him better. “A bunch.”

“D-Don’t even know?” Toby raises an eyebrow, his eyes glazed over as he gazes up at you. “Weed’s fuckin’ with y-your head, darlin’. I oughta cut you off.”

“You won’t” Your tone is light, but you say it as a certainty.

And you’re right.

“Yeah, I won’t.” Toby hums back to you, his lip stretched into a sickly amused little smile. Words dripping with that honey sweet cockiness that made your knees weak every time. Voice as thick and rich as molasses, sticking to your ears and coating your every thought. “Why w-would I? Losing what? A couple grams of profit just to ha-have this dumb little doll in my bed?” You narrow your eyes at him, and his grin only widens. “That’s a-a win in my books.”

“You’re horrible.” You scoff, eyebrows wrinkling together. And he is, he’s the worst, but that hadn’t stopped you from getting close. Hadn’t stopped you from seeking him out.

“You love it.” You did. You didn’t even have to say it. He could see it in your foggy eyes, that infatuation that ran deep. And was it cruel, that he indulged you? Was it sick of him to keep feeding you substances that got you loopy, just because he liked to watch your inhibitions crumble away? Probably, but he’d have to be a much better man to care. “You should let me give you mo-more.”

“More?” You scoff. “Toby, if I smoke any more I’m probably gonna green out.”

“Not weed.” Toby snickers softly, raising an eyebrow as he fishes around in the pocket of his hoodie. “I sell o-other shit, you know. Expensive shit.” He lifts his hand, producing a dime bag containing a few pills you don’t recognize. “Bet they’d do you re-real good right now.”

And you’re definitely intrigued, but not enough to not ask questions.

“What is it?” You inch a little closer, your body sliding against his sheets as you creep over to the edge of the bed. He can see the curiosity in your eyes, and he knows he’s got you. That’s where it always starts, after all.

“Does it ma-matter?” He opens the baggie, eyes on you the entire time he drops two pills onto his palm. “It’ll make you feel g-good. Just trust me.”

“Trust you?” You raise an eyebrow, eyes flickering between the pills and his face. “You know you’re not exactly a trustworthy person, right?”

“And yet you keep c-coming back.” He snorts, his gaze leaving yours to pinch one of the pills between his fingers. “Watch.” He pops the pill in his mouth and swallows it. No hesitation, no fear. Not even needing water. Just throwing it back like it was nothing more than a vitamin, his confidence making your heart leap. “My shits clean, you know th-that. Wouldn’t give you anything I wouldn’t take myself.”

It’s a sound argument, for you at least. If it were dangerous, he wouldn’t have swallowed it so confidently. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have even offered to you.

“What’s it gonna do?” And yet you’re leaning forwards, making your intentions clear as your eyes stay fixed on the little pill still resting in his palm.

He doesn’t answer directly, just picks the pill up then leans towards you. His free hand cupping your jaw, squeezing it with a pressure that leaves you with no choice but to part your lips.

“Already t-told you.” He murmurs back to you. “Make you f-feel good.”

And like always, you let him. Part your lips, stick your tongue out, let him place the pill upon it. Feeling it dissolve a little when it hits your saliva, before you close your mouth and swallow it back. Trusting him, like you always do - even when you definitely shouldn’t. “Atta girl.” His fingers trail down your jawline, his touch just barely there - ghosting over your skin before he tucks a a few strands of hair behind your ear. “You just ss-swallowed $50, by the way.” He chuckles softly. “You should feel lucky you’re g-gettin’ freebies just because I like you.”

“You like me?” You ask softly, too high to even notice the shift as Toby moves towards you - oblivious until he’s lying right next to you. “Or do you just like what I give you?”

“What you give m-me?” Toby snorts softly, before reaching out to grasp your waits softly - tugging your pliant body right up close to his. “Don’t go treatin’ me l-like a charity case now.” Fingers digging into your skin, slipping under your shirt to feel it bare. “It’s real e-easy to find a junkie slut, you know.” Hands skirting under your clothes like he had the right, because he did. Because this body was his, just as much as it was yours. “I like you. Pretty little thing. So easy and ss-sweet for me.”

You can’t even refute him, because you knew he was right. You were easy. You had been easy. Letting him fuck you the first time he brought you home, letting him fuck you up time and time again. Just like you were right now.

Tilting your head to the side when he nudges his face into your neck, eyes fluttering when his lips part again your skin. Licking, biting, teeth sinking in deep. Breathing ragged and uneven, already panting against you and he’s barely even done anything yet. Pulling you in closer, flush against him - one hand snaking up to grasp at your tits as his leg lifts to hook over yours. And you’re melting. Brain fuzzy, body feeling gooey has his hands roam your skin. It feels right, just the slightest touches sending your nerves into a frenzy.

You can’t think, but that’s alright, thats how he liked you. Barely even able to speak, just murmuring out soft little whimpers and moans as he left his mark on you. The air is just as hazy as your mind is, the scent of smoke swirling together with his cologne to leave you even dizzier than you already are. And so, it’s not long until you’re sinking into the feeling completely.

Hands coming up to lazily snake into his hair, tugging on it gently as pulling his head upwards so that you can slot your lips with his. Slick, messy, uncoordinated - perfect. A one track mind, hellbent on getting you bare for him again as he panted into your mouth, drool seeping from off of his tongue and onto yours, tainted with the chemical taste of whatever the fuck you had just taken. Pulling you in like he was trying to consume you, and maybe he was. He knew you’d let him if that was his intent.

You don’t remember getting your shirt off, don’t remember getting his off, and you barely even register it when he rolls you both over so that his body’s pinning you to the sheets. But soon enough, you’re chest to chest, bare skin against bare skin, sweat mixing with his as he sinks his teeth into your neck. “So f-fuckin’ pretty.” Murmured against your skin, greedy hands already slipping down your abdomen to tug at the waistband of your sweats. “You’re mine, right?”

Probably? Maybe? You didn’t really know what Toby was to you. Probably just a drug in itself.

And yet,

“Yeah.” You gasp out, hips bucking towards his touch. An invitation for more. To strip you completely like he had done so many times. “I’m yours.”

“Damn right, you are.” He sounds ecstatic when he says it, feral in a way that should probably scare you and yet it doesn’t. Slurred and sloppy, hazy and unrestrained - you love him like this. Just as much as an enabler as he was. Dragging each other down, and having a damn good time while doing it. “No one else could m-make you feel like this, right?” Your pants come off in a swift move, somehow co-ordinated though his limbs felt heavy. Your panties follow suit rather quickly, and yet you don’t even squirm - worse, you let your thighs fall open on instinct. “You need me, right? You n-need me.” He’s downright begging you, his voice quivering on the edges of his words as he nuzzles against your jaw - so hot you can feel it radiating off of him, feeling absolutely smothered as he presses against you more. Fingers swiping against your slick, you’re reeling from how quickly you’ve found yourself here. How easily he’s slipped himself between your thighs once more - like that was where he belonged.

“Yeah, I need you.” Your chest heaving against his, feeling the vibrations fizzle through you as he lets out a soft hum. Lips parting to lick the sweat off of your skin, his thumb lazily playing with your clit as you squirmed so pathetically against him. He knew how you liked it. Slow and steady, the drugs always got you so sensitive so you could barely even handle more. And though he loved turning you into a teary, overstimulated mess, being gentle is what had you sticking around. Knowing he’d take care of you. That he’d never give you more than you could take - in every sense of the word. “Fuck- Toby,” Hips bucking up towards him, just feeling yourself grow wetter as he rolled your clit under the pad of his finger, pleasure sparking up your spine and making you shiver. “I need you-“ Meaning it more this time, moaning it out desperately, pulling on his hair so tightly you know he’d be wincing if he could feel it.

“Yeah, I-I know you do.” He’s gentle as he slips a finger inside you, shoulders jerking when he feels how wet you are already. How your tight heat wrapped around one digit like you were just made to take him. “That’s why you keep coming back, r-right?” He’s pumping it into you slowly, teeth dragging against your skin all the while. Biting a path from your jaw to your collarbone, making sure you bruise. Wanting you to see it all the next day, when you were sober. A reminder of who you gave yourself to. Who you really belonged to at the end of the day. “Can’t-Can’t live without this. Without me.” Crooking his finger just right, having memorized the placement of your g-spot ages ago now. Moaning into your shoulder right along with you when you absolutely crumble beneath him, relishing in the way your cunt clenches around him in reward for his efforts. “Mine. You a-always will be.”

It almost sounds like a threat, and maybe it was. Maybe you should know better, than to keep adding ruin to the wreckage every single time you walked up the pathway to his house. But you didn’t. He had wiped your rationality clean. Made ordinary life seem boring. Sobriety was no longer a goal, or an escape. It was a way to get away from him, and you didn’t want that. You don’t think you ever would. “You l-look best like this, you know?” As he’s slipping in another finger, lifting his head to watch your face as he stretches you open. “Falling apart f-for me. Don’t gotta think about nothin’ b-but my touch.” Eyes glinting in the low lighting of his bedroom he scissors them open wide, watching with keen interest as your brows pinch together - your body twitching and trembling beneath him. Moans growing shakier, hips jumping every time his fingers sunk into you. Responding to him so perfectly, just as you always did, Like you were made for him. “Feels good t-to let go, hm?”

It did, it always did, especially when you knew he’d be the one there to catch you. Giving in was scary, but not whilst lying beneath him. You knew that no matter how messy, or incoherent, or downright pathetic you got - he wouldn’t shun you. He’d just offer you the same old smile, and call you beautiful, just like he always did.

That’s what made him dangerous. His unwavering acceptance of your flaws, because he had no room to judge. He was so much worse.

When a third finger nudges in next to the other two, your hands are flying upwards - a desperate, gargled cry ripping from your lungs as the burn of the stretch finally beared its fangs. Making your thighs tremble and your stomach twist, nails sinking deep into his shoulders as tears spring to your eyes. It’s almost too much - almost. Toby knew your body’s limits, knew how much you could take. He’d never push you, just shush you softly and coax you into relaxation when you tried to fight it. It was so easy to listen to him, even as your brain melted into a puddle of mush, dripping out of your ears and onto his bedsheets. “Th-That’s it, you got it.” Slick gushing all over his fingers, soaking the digits on every press in. Feeling how your body just opened up for him, your cunt stretching open for him like an offering, dripping out the sweetest essence like a precursor to the main event. “You he-hear that?” He had one hand on your hip, holding you down as his fingers fucked into you. Letting your upper body writhe and spasm, but keeping your pussy right where he wanted it - right in the palm of his hand. “Pussy’s ss-so fuckin’ wet for me.” His gaze near feral as he gazed down at you, at how your expression contorted, drool pooling in the corners of your lips. “Shes’s b-beggin’ for my cock, baby.”

His words have a visceral effect on you, your face crumpling, gasping for breath as your cunt squeezes around his fingers. You can feel it when it throbs around him, feel that familiar heat brewing low in your gut. So easily brought out when it was stoked by him.

“Toby-“ If you had an ounce of rational thought left, you’d probably cringe at how desperately pathetic your voice sounded wrapped around his name. Shame isn’t in your books right now though, not as you start rocking your hips back to meet his movements, not as that sweet pleasure tied a noose around your throat and pulled you under. “Toby-“ Again, you choke it out. Like it’s the only word you know, like it’s a prayer and he’s the god you’re pleading to. Over and over again, drooling out his name as you fell to pieces beneath him.

“There you go.” He feels it when you cum, shudders when your pussy clenches around his fingers so desperately. Sucking the digits in like you still needed more, and he was more than happy to give it to you. “S-So pretty when you cum.” He fucks you through it, smiling to himself as he watches you through hazy vision - squirming and sniffling beneath him. Hips bucking and limbs twitching when it got to be too much, and yet he takes you further. Rubbing the pads of his fingers up against your g-spot just to hear how your voice cracked and quivered because of it. “You want m-more, right?” Still keeping his fingers inside you, his whole body tingling in euphoria at just how easy it was to turn you into a pile of tears. It never got old. He didn’t think it ever would. “I know my fingers aren’t enough. Y-You want my cock, right?” Curling them, making all of the air in your lungs leave in a wheeze. “Tell me.”

“Please, Toby.” You’re so fucked out already that you have no choice but to bed. Mindless as you plead for it, your vision swimming with tears as you try to blink them away to look at him. When you do, you’re falling all over again. Because he’s looking down at you like you’re some kind of goddess. Pupils blown right out, chest heaving, his shaggy hair matted to his forehead with sweat. He’s gorgeous, and that wan’t just the drugs talking, you were sure of it. “Need- Need it.” Your nails scratch up his back when you drag him in close, your bottom lip quivering as hot tears leave tracks down your cheeks. “Please- Please fuck me.”

“Oh, darlin’,” His smile is sickly sweet. Almost uncanny, like he was masking the true extend of his depravity beneath it. Through your watery vision, all you see is fondness. “Now, h-how am I supposed to say no to that?”

He doesn’t make you wait, probably because he’s just itching to get as close you you as possible. He’s been hard for a while now, since he first climbed onto the bed with you. Aching in his boxers, throbbing with need just for you. Fueled by desire, heightened by the stimulants floating around in his bloodstream. “I’ll fuck you.” He hums as he unbuttons his jeans - hasty, desperate, like he can’t bear another moment not being inside you. “I-I’ll fuck you good. I always do, hm?”

”Yeah.” You tug him in when he kicks his jeans off, barely even letting his get his underwear pulled down before your legs are wrapping around his waist and drawing him in. Ankles locking around his back already, trapping him right where he wanted him to be most. “Please- Please..” Scratching at his skin, hips kicking upwards when you feel him slide his cock through your slick folds. So ready for him that it makes his breath catch in his throat. “Fuck, Toby-“ You know you’re being pathetic, desperate pleas babbled out to him as drool seeps out of the corners of your mouth. Begging like he wasn’t quite literally rutting up against your cunt, twitching beneath his cock like your body was beckoning him to just sink right in.

“Shhh..” He chuckles softly, one hand slipping up to cup your tit as the other one reaches down to get himself lined up properly. His gaze flickering like a candle in the wind as he watched you jolt just from the feeling of him merely pressing against you. “D-Don’t gotta keep begging. I’m right here.”

He accentuates his words with a gentle nudge inwards, proving his point as his cock slipped into your heat so perfectly. Not even an ounce of discomfort because he had already stretched you open good, just that mind numbing satisfaction as his body slotted into yours like a puzzle piece fitting into place. “See?” His free hand smooths up your side, finding a home gripping your waist as the other one toys with your breast. Kneading it gently as he sunk in more and more, giving you inch after inch until you were trembling beneath him. Crying out to him, not sure exactly what you were begging for. “That’s b-better, right?”

Undeniably. He doesn’t really expect you to answer, so when all he gets is a pathetic little whimper in reply he just grins - gazing down at you through the hair falling in front of his eyes. So fond, so lovestruck, if only you were coherent enough to notice. “You a-always get like this.” He murmurs softly, nails biting into your skin as he slowly starts rocking his hips - his shoulders tensing up at the feeling of your cunt wrapping around him so deliciously. Like a glove. Like you were made to take him, and him only. “Get s-so fuckin’ d-dumb. Can’t even t-talk.”

Leaning down, his nose brushes against you, right in your face as you gasp your air. And now, all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. All you can hear is him, gravelly groans slipping out between each breathy word. “S’it because you’re s-so fucked up?” He rasps out to you, not quickening his pace but driving into you deeper. Making you take all of it. Pulling you back to meet him until his cock was fully enveloped in your welcoming body. “Or do you j-just love my cock that much?”

You can't tell if that question is rhetorical, your mind so hazy that you can’t focus on anything but the feeling of his length sliding against your twitching walls. Sinking in nice and deep, the head giving your cervix a kiss every time he bottomed out. It left you near delirious, scrambling to grapple at him like he was the only thing grounding you to reality. Your movements are unconscious, rolling your hips back to get more an more of him, hiccuping out watery moans as your head lols against the pillow.

And to his question, you answer;

”I-I love you-“ Not his cock, not the way he fucks you - him. Him and his flaws. Him and how horrible he was beneath that candy coating he wrapped himself in. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so you don’t see it when his eyes widen, but you feel it when he falters. Hips stuttering a little, his grip on you tightening to a bruising degree. Not stopping, but close to it as he stared down at you in a mixture of disbelief and awe. But, he shakes it off rather quickly.

”Oh, baby,” And then his arm is slipping underneath your back, pulling your body up and close to his chest, cradling you as his hips rocked into yours. “N-No you don’t.” There’s not room for argument in his words, no sadness, no strain. Just cold honesty, like he knew you from the inside out. Like he had a better grasp on your thoughts than you did.

And honestly? Right now, he did.

”I do.” You insist through tears and choked out moans, pressing up into his hold like you were trying to crawl under his skin. Your face burrowing into the crook of his neck as your tears wet his skin- stubble tickling your cheek. “I do- I do-“

”You th-think you do.” Toby corrects you softly, on hand reaching up to card through your hair. He mirrors your actions, his head tilting down to rest against your shoulder. “But you don’t. Th-That’s just the drugs talkin’, darlin’.” Murmuring out the sweetest refusals even as he took you apart, keeping his movements nice and steady even as you clung to him so desperately. “And that's alright. That’s ha-half the reason I give ‘em to you.”

You can barely even hear him. You can feel the vibrations rumble through his chest with every word he speaks, can just barely make out the garbled gibberish that your known language has turned into. But the impact is lost on you.

But just as Toby said - that was alright. “Just- Don’t g-gotta think about that shit, yeah? Just let me have you.”

Easy. You had surrendered yourself to him the moment you stepped through his door. Drove in the final nail when you slipped into his bed like it was your own. And now, as you trembled in his arms, you were exactly what he wanted you to be. His, unequivocally. Crying out his name, clinging onto his body, nails sinking into and marking up his skin. Labels and such weren’t needed when he could see it with his own eyes, your dedication to him. Just handing yourself over, even if he definitely didn’t deserve it. “That’s it.” Hips snapping into yours, shivering as he felt your slick gush out around him and soak his pelvis. “Just t-take it.”

Your body cried for him, how was he supposed to ever abstain? “S-So good- Always feel so good for me.” He had you slotted snug against him, like your bodies were two parts of the same whole. Slick skin sliding against his, your tits smushed up against his chest as his hands slipped down to gasp at your ass. Using the grip as leverage as to pull you back to meet him. Snapping his hips into yours, driving his cock into you as the pace picked up. Like he was trying to fuck every pesky little thought right out of you. Wanting you mindless, unable to to think of the intricacies of who he was to you.

Right now, he was pleasure incarnate, and that’s all he needed to be.

Fucking into you until you were drooling against his shoulder, until there was nothing you were capable of besides moaning out his name with a broken voice. Legs around his hips, ankles locked behind his back, your pussy damn near squeezing the life out of him as he took you higher, and higher. “Hah- Fuck-“ Harder, deeper, the sound of skin on skin filling the smoky air. The scent of sex clinging to each heavy particle. “Gonna cum again, a-aren’t you?”

Words lost on you, all you can do is vehemently nod, sniffling against his skin as your fingers clawed upwards to snake into his hair. Grasping at the strands for dear life, getting them curled around your knuckles in a nice firm grip. “Yeah? G-Give it to me. Let me feel it.” It’s as if he held a key that unlocked the ecstasy within you, because his words ring in your ears like a beckoning call that your body just can’t deny. His voice, raspy and wrecked, breathed right out next to your ear, that's all it takes. One, two more thrusts and he’s got you crumbling to pieces again,melting into a puddle of pleasure that seeped through the gaps between his fingers. “C-Christ-“

Unknown or not, the effect you had on him was just as potent. You buckled him. Left him breathless not just from the feeling of your pussy milking his cock, but from the sight of you. Flushed, shaky, jaw gone slack and eyes so hazy and far away - like he had transported you to an entirely different world. “Perfect.” He barely even registers the word he breathes out, but he means it all the same. That’s what you were to him, indisputably. “Fuckin’-“ He just barely clinging to coherency, his whole body trembling as his hips twitch and his thrusts get sloppier. “Too good- You-You’re too good-“ And he means it, in more ways than one.

He doesn’t last long after that, can’t. Barely getting a few more pumps in before his body’s going rigid - teeth sinking deep into your shoulder to muffle the broken groan that leaves him when he presses in deep for the final time. Not asking, because he knew you’d let him. Spilling into you with a warmth that makes you shudder, marking you as his from the inside out for the nth time over.

Then, he slumps. Body going limp. Just barely refraining from crushing you as his arms curl around your torso - pressing you into the bed as he gasps out wheezing breaths against your neck. Sweat dripping from his hair onto your skin, still trembling like a leaf even as his heart beat slowly came back down to a normal pace. “See?” He’s murmuring against you when he finally finds his choice again, still not moving, just holding you close. Because he knows that this is the only time he’s really allowed to. “T-Told you it’d make you feel good.”

”Nah.” You hum back to him as your eyes finally flutter back open, your hands idly smoothing down his back as you gaze focuses on the ceiling once more. Back to counting each and every crack. “That was all you.”

He tries to hide it. Keeps his face buried in your neck to keep it out of your view, but you feel his lips curl into a soft little smile against your neck. More than that, you feel his heat speed up a bit again where it beats against your chest.

”Yeah?” His voice is softer now, murmured out tiredly in a breath that tickles your skin and raises goosebumps on your arms. “Sounds l-like I gotta find a better supplier then.”

And you could try and unpack it all. Try to pull his head up and look him in the eyes, searching for the answer for every single question you have about him.

But, you're too tired for that.

And so, you just laugh.

———————————————————————————————————-

Heyyyyyy lol. This ones for all the anons creaming over dealer!Toby in my inbox lmfao.

Sorry i got angsty??? Idk thats just where it took me, regardless I hope you enjoyed lmfao

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