#Toby rogers hc

[noctiva]

Training Day

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

This is a commission! Pronouns + names have been changed for your viewing pleasure! If you’re interested in something like this for yourself, hit me up once my commissions are open again!

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WC: 6.7k

Summary: Toby’s taken one of his fellow proxies under his wing. Looks to him like she needs a lot more training.

- commission prompt: toby x proxy!reader hatefuck situation. coworkers at best enemies at worst. have toby hold a hatchet to the readers neck during the act

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, CNC, noncon elements, threats and violence, rough handling, semi-clothed sex, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, degradation, definitely toxic relationship, unsafe sex, creampie, sadism + masochism, power dynamics, lowkey dom/sub undertones, mocking, hatefucking lollll, toby and reader hate eachother and then fuck about it

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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Being a proxy is already a tough job.

Late nights, long hours, an erratic schedule, and a complete lack of free will. It’s the type of profession that no one would willingly choose to be a part of, if they could help it. And, if they were roped into it somehow, it would be a constant day to day battle of just trying to make ends meet whilst being pushed and pulled around by an entity beyond your comprehension.

It’s not something easy by any means, but most find ways to make the strenuous lifestyle a little bit easier to bear. Little victories. Glimpses of sunshine through the fog.

For a proxy like you, finding respite amongst the complete gorefest that was day to day life used to be an easy task. It was easy when you first began - staying far away from all of the other monsters you shared an occupation with. Keeping close to yourself and no one else, it was a breeze to mindlessly drag your feet through the day, just to curl up in bed and do it all over again when the sun rose.

It was glamorous. It wasn’t luxury. But, it was tolerable.

Or, at least it used to be.

Two weeks into being a proxy, your little bubble of solitude was broken. Violently popped by a force so obnoxious, so erratic, that you found herself scrunching your nose up in distaste before the perpetrator even opened their mouth for an introduction.

”H-hey.” He had approached her while you were sat outside your cabin, sewing up a ripped patch in the pair of jeans she was wearing. Now more patches than untainted material, something the man had raised a judging eyebrow at on first glance. “You’re a b-bit of a recluse, aren’t ya’?”

What an amazing first impression.

You could still remember what he had looked like when you first laid eyes on him up close. Shaggy, messy brown hair pushed off of his forehead by a pair of cracked orange goggles. What looked to be a mouth guard hung around his neck, leaving his face completely bare for her viewing. Scarred horribly, like somebody had thrown him through a woodchipper and tugged him back out. A slash in his eyebrow, a crooked nose that looked as if it never healed properly from a fracture. But, the cherry on top was definitely the gash tearing through the left half of his face.

Staring at the corner of his lips and stretching up towards his cheekbone, it was a gnarly sight. Flesh torn from gums to reveal a row of chipped back molars - visibly not properly taken care of, the skin around it jagged and torn.

“What do you want?” Were the first words you had ever spoke to him, each letter packed with as much annoyance as you could muster up.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. Toby rogers. The boss’s golden boy. Some six foot tank of a man who could take the hardest hits, and deal back even more lethal ones in return. He got the hardest missions, had the largest kill count under his belt, and - he had let it get to his head. Leaning into the fact that he was a chosen favourite by some eldritch entity like it was a blessing, not an absolutely abhorrent title to uphold.

You didn’t like him. Hadn’t even met him before you came up with that conclusion. You had seen him work before, trailing behind him, Tim, and Brian when you were still a greenie, learning from them before you went on your own missions. Watched how apathetically he sliced down victims, listened to that wheezing laughter he’d let out as blood dripped onto the lenses of his goggles.

Took note of the way he talked to people. So cocky and apathetic. Completely detached from the lifestyle he lived - like it was all just a game.

Like it was all effortlessly easy.

You hated him for it. Wanted nothing to do with him because of it. And yet here he was, standing in front of you, gazing down at you with that same arrogant twinkle in his eye that made your skin crawl.

”I-It’s not what I want.” Toby had laughed, taking a step closer. “It’s w-what the boss wants.” He lifted his foot to nudge your hand with his muddy boot, knocking the sewing needle you were holding into the dirt. “Better re-results. You’re slow, a-and you suck.” He spoke so bluntly it made your blood boil in your veins, teeth grit as you looked up at him with narrowed green eyes. “Couple other reasons but I d-don’t feel like listing them all. Long story short, you-you’re working with me now.” His lips twitched up into a sinister smile. “You know, someone wh-who actually knows what they’re doing?”

The words he spoke were horrid already, but the knowing look of amusement he paired them with was worse. Like he was aware he had just walked up to you and presented your very worst nightmare all wrapped up in a bloody orange bow. There was nothing more that you’d rather do than shoo Toby away and tell him to simply ‘fuck off’ and find someone else to bother, but if what he said was true, and this was actually an order from Slender themself, then there was no point in fighting. Everyone knew that orders from the boss were non-negotiable, no matter how difficult (or annoying) they were.

And so, that was how it began.

Every single day, whether you liked it or not, you were forced into being Toby’s tag along partner. Accompanying him on missions, having him glued to your side and muttering insults under his breath as you tried to mind your own business. Toby was inescapable. A constant force that persisted even when you wanted him around the least.

It was a constant war whenever you were around each other. Who could deal the worst insults, who could stun the other one into silence from the absolute absurdity of their actions. Both forced into a partnership that neither wanted.

You, were more accustomed to working on your own. Toby, was more accustomed to working with Tim and Brian - who were used to his antics by now. It was almost laughable how easily he could wriggle his way under your skin, a feat that was difficult for him with the other proxies who knew him better. He was a shit-disturber, a nuisance, someone who poked and prodded just to get reactions for the fun of it. People who were used to his attitude didn’t bat an eye at his antics or abrasive nature - so you were the perfect victim.

Easily annoyed. Even more easily flustered. A toy that he could bat around, one that refused to break no matter how rough he got. It was a perfect arrangement, though some people would definitely beg to differ.

He’d spit out an insult and you would just deal back one that was ten times worse. Trip you up while you’re walking, and you’re picking yourself back up just to elbow him in the rib cage. If only he could feel the pain, but the wheeze he’d let out from being winded was enough to satisfy you.

Toby was insufferable, and he knew it. He was a nuisance at best and an absolute hindrance at worst. Missions together were the worst of it. Barely ever able to get a kill in for yourself before Toby was shoving you out of the way and flinging a hatchet at their skull. The ‘teaching experience’ he had advertised this partnership as was barely anything of the sort - more so just you being forced to sit back and watch as he split open another poor victim’s rib cage. Giggling to himself as he reached into the viscera and pulled out a lung or heart, just to fling it in your direction with a cackle slipping from his lips.

Horrible. He was horrible. That opinion of yours didn’t change in the slightest, even as the weeks ticked on. He was barely even a human at all, more so just a hollow shell filled to the brim with bloodlust and spite.

Someone who abided by Slender's every will because he wanted to, not because he was forced to. It was sickening. A way of life that you could never imagine for yourself. If the day ever came that you followed in Toby’s footsteps, finding a sick pleasure in the blood and gore that coated your clothing, you’d much rather be on the receiving end of his hatchet.

But, that day hadn’t come yet.

It’s a cold winter day - frigid winds, ankle deep snow caked to the soles of her boots and seeping into the gap between your pants and socks. The air is brisk, blooming a rosy tint on your pale cheeks as you trekked through the forest - leaving a trail of footprints for Toby to follow in as he trailed behind her closely. You could feel his gaze on your back, hear the sound of his heavy breathing with each step that he took, smell the acrid scent of cigarette smoke wafting off from the smoke perched between his lips. “Hey…” You heard him call, his voice soft and playful, forcing a tenseness into your muscles. Fingers clenched tight around the strap of the bag draped over your body, your jaw clenched, a shaky breath leaving your lungs before visualizing in the air as a cloud of condensation

”What?” You grit out, her voice dripping with that same distaste that you always wore when she was around Toby. An annoyance that you couldn’t shake.

“Y-You can talk to me you know.” Toby huffed out from behind her, his gaze trained on the back of you as he trudged through the snow in front of him. The way the cold December wind tousled the curly tufts of ginger hair atop your head, how your limbs were so frigid and stiff. From the cold, or from him? It was hard to tell. “You’re m-makin’ this harder on yourself by constantly being b-bitchy with me.”

”I’m not being bitchy.” You snapped back to him, turning your head back towards him for just a moment, only to cut him a deadly glare. “You’re just hellbent on being an asshole. Sorry for not wanting to hold a conversation with a prick like you.”

Toby barks out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing the vacant forest they were both traversing. Not a single soul in sight - not except for the two of them. Just miles and miles of snow and dying wood, not even the howl of a wolf in the distance to break up the silence. Just her, him, and the whistle of the wind between them.

”Harsh.” Toby snorts, one eyebrow raising as his eyes scan the figure before him. You were practically the exact opposite of him. Toby - tall and lean, you - short and stout. He often asked himself how you even managed your way around as a proxy. From his perspective, you looked like a weak link. Someone easily thrown around and tossed to the side. The idea of you actually subduing and killing someone was laughable at best, and he honestly wouldn’t believe it was possible if he hadn’t seen it happen with his own eyes. “Y-Y’know, if it weren’t for me you’d probably be dead.” He mutters. “S-Some useless fuck like you sh-shoulda been dealt with a long time ago.” He takes a drag, the hatches on his belt clinking with each step he took. “I-If I wasn’t nice, and I ss-said no to taking you under my wing - the boss would-woulda just axed you.”

”Begging for a ‘thank you’ makes you sound desperate.” You snort, rolling your eyes as you tug your coat further over yourself. “You’re not a hero, Toby. You never have been. You’ve just deluded yourself into thinking you are.”

The words are harsh enough to cut deep, slicing straight through Toby’s tough exterior to seep straight into his bones. Rising goosebumps on his arms, reigniting the fire of guilt he had (thought he had) snuffed out long ago. Such a chilling read on his entire nature, that he found himself faltering in his steps, his jaw going slack before his cigarette fell from his lips - extinguishing against the snow beneath him with a hiss.

“Yeah, well, you’re not a victim - l-like you seem to think you are.” Toby snaps back, eyeing his fallen smoke for just a second before he lets out a scoff and trudges past it. Just another reason for him to be pissed. It wasn’t easy coming across a cigarette, as a wanted criminal. He’d have to go rummaging through Tim’s bag for the third time this week. “Y-You hate me because you’re just like me. A c-cold hearted killer with bodies upon bodies under your belt.” His fingers twitch as he slowly reaches downwards, before closing around the handle of one of his hatchets. “Cry and m-moan about it all you want, but you can’t hide from the truth. You’re just as bad as me. Maybe even worse, because you re-refuse to accept the reality of it.”

You could feel your eye twitch in annoyance. That familiar, white hot sensation of anger brewing in your stomach and making your limbs tremble. He just forced it out so easily, like you was a marionette on strings and he was the puppet master - tugging and pulling you around until you were cracking from the strain.

And so you just can’t help yourself when you’re stopping in your tracks abruptly, whipping around with a scowl on your lips before you hiss out;

”Can you shut the fuck u-“

The whistle of metal cutting through air stops your sentence short. It happened so fast that you could barely even process it, your eyes not even having the chance to lock onto Toby’s weapon before it was flying straight past your skull - only missing you by a hair before it lodged itself in a tree just a few feet away.

The shock was palpable. Wide eyes and breathing cut off abruptly. Silence so deafening that if you really paid close attention, you may just hear the sound of your heart starting to pound in your chest - slowly coming up to speed with the rest of your body as the realization of what’s just happened washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

Stray auburn hairs sliced at the tip, fallen against the snow beneath your feet. Wood, cracked and splintering around the hatchet newly lodged within the trunk of a tree. Toby’s tool belt, uneven on one side now - starkly missing a weapon.

Finally piecing all of the parts together just makes your blood burn hotter.

And the perpetrator? Well, he’s stood before you as if nothing was amiss. As if he hadn’t just taken a shot at your life. Shoulders lax, eyes playful, carelessly toying with the now empty loop on his belt. Horrible. “Are you fucking insane?” You hiss out, eyes wide and manic - darting between Toby’s face and the weapon that had just barely missed your skull. “What the hell is wrong with you, you psycho?“

”T-Target practice.” Toby snorts, his lips curled up into a sly smile. “Treating you l-like the victim you think you are.” Snow crunches under his boots as he takes a few steps closer to you, the cool breeze whipping through his hair. “You luh-look like one, now that I’ve really got m-my eyes peeled.” Closer. Too close, he approaches. Standing tall before her like a pack wolf, his mouth widening into a toothy grin. “Verängstigtes k-kleines Kaninchen.”

In one quick movement, Toby’s darting a hand out to reach behind you - bruised knuckles grasping the handle of his discarded hatchet once more before he’s ripping it back out of the tree with a firm tug, splintered pieces of wood following it and raining down onto the snowy ground. “Sie glaubt, ss-sie sei so stark.” Toby chuckles softly, leaning his head down lower to encroach further on your space. “So kräftig.” Though her blood was rushing in her ears, you couldn’t find it in yourself to back down. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him watch you shrink. “Aber sie ist nichts weiter als eine k-kleine Maus. Jemand, d-den ich unter meinem Stiefel zerquetschen könnte.”

The fact that you hadn’t a single clue what he was saying, added a strange sort of fear to the interaction that you just couldn’t wrap your head around. Voice low and gravelly, you knew that those words were threats - but what kind of threats? On your life? Your livelihood? Worse? Goosebumps rise on your neck and trickle down your spine, and this time, you know it's not from the cold. But again, to give him that satisfaction? To roll over and lay down like he wanted you to? It wasn’t happening. Over your dead body.

”Yeah, act like I can understand you, dumbass.” You spit out before rolling your eyes and turning on your heel. Partially, to end the interaction sooner. Partially, to escape his paralyzing gaze. Soulless brown eyes, looking damn near black under the overcast sky - scrutinizing you, mocking you, sizing you up. “Don’t fuckin’ pull a stunt like that again. If my blood’s on your hands when you get back, you’ll be in shit and you know it.”

A challenge? Maybe, maybe not. But Toby’s brain viewed it more so as the latter. Weeks of pushing you, weeks of trying to stamp down that nasty attitude of yours, and nothing had worked. Not insults, not humiliation, not even badmouthing you to Slender themself. Was it even really his fault, that he was leaning more towards drastic measures now? Had you not forced it out of him? Goading him with that piercing glare and lips tugged down into a perpetual scowl?

No, it was your fault. Your fault for bringing this out in him.

So when his arms stretch out towards you, one of which wielding his hatchet - that’s your fault too.

You only see a flash of metal and a glimpse of Toby’s sweater sleeve before it happens. Before what happens? Well, your beheading was what you expected - eyes widening at the sight of your fellow proxy’s weapon coming so close to your throat. But, that wasn’t what you were dealt. Because that would be too fast. Too easy. Unfulfilling.

Instead you’re left wheezing for air as the handle of Toby’s hatchet presses firm to your throat from behind, the worn wood digging into your windpipe as he pulls you back to him. You’re gasping when his back meets his chest, frantic hands flying up to claw at the handle of the weapon slowly but surely choking you out. It’s a firm, unrelenting pressure. One that made every single breath a chore. And your attempts to free yourself weren’t doing a thing to help. Nails scratching at Toby’s hands, digging in deep enough to draw blood - but Toby wasn’t phased even a little bit.

Of course he wouldn’t be. His arrogance had some merit to it. “Toby-“ Your voice comes out choked off and hoarse, throat feeling dry and scratchy as you struggle to take in air. “Fuck- Fuck’s wrong with you? Let me go! This- This isn’t funny!”

“O-Oh, it totally is.” Toby’s voice meets her ears as stark contrast to your own. Playful. Composed. Amused as he leans his head down lower, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks. “You ss-see what I’m talkin’ about now? You’re pathetic. I’m barely even t-trying and you can’t do a thing to help yourself.” His hands tug the hatchet back further, forcing a strained cough out of your lungs. “Sind Sie w-wirklich so schwach? Oder liegt es daran, dass Sie es tatsächlich mögen?”

He starts to walk backwards, dragging you along with him as you kick your feet and flail your arms. Trying absolutely anything to wriggle free, but not a single thing was working. Not with the beast you had fallen into the clutches of. “H-How’d you even get this far, huh?” Using his hatchet as leverage, he spins you around quick enough that there’s no chance to wiggle away before the handle of his weapon is back to your neck. This time, pinning you completely when your back comes into contact with one of the many trees surrounding the two of you. “You o-obviously don’t fight well, so how’d you even get a kill under your b-belt?”

Face to face with him now, it’s hard for you not to shrink. Purpling lips quivering from the force of your scowl, eyebrows pinched together as you breathe raggedly through her nose. “Did ya’ go all ‘femme fatale’ on them? Wh-Whore yourself out to get their guard lowered, then spill their b-brains when they’re deep up in it?”

”You fucking freak.” You hiss out, trying again to kick at him - this time aiming for his groin - but again, nothing comes of it. God, was he indestructible? “Bet that’s a fantasy of yours isn’t it? You sick fuck.”

Toby cracks a grin, his eyes gleaming with a twisted form of amusement before he lets out a chilling chuckle. It’s menacing. A sound that nothing good could come from, and you knew it.

”C-Caught me.” Toby hums. “Wanna indulge me, hase?” His gaze roams free as his thoughts wander, flicking up and down your body with a scrutinizing gaze before landing back on your face. Your face, pale skin going pink from the lack of circulation - your freckles becoming swallowed up by the flush. “Only, here’s the thing - you w-wouldn’t be winning against me. I th-think you know that already.”

The look in Toby’s eyes is subjugating. Hidden beneath layers and layers of snark and sarcasm, but he’s serious - the glint in his eyes gives him away. If it didn’t, then his unwavering grip sure did. He hadn’t let his hold on you falter for even a second, keeping you pinned to the tree behind you as you watched the display before him with a sickening smirk curving his lips.

And for you, maybe the worst part was that it was equal parts arousing, as it was terrifying. It would be a lie to say you had never thought of Toby in that way, though it was often overshadowed by your complete distaste towards his attitude. You had thought about it a few times, watching Toby’s skin splatter with blood as he hauled off on another victim. A few more times, when you’d catch the way his whole face softened when he let out a genuine laugh.

And you were definitely thinking about it now, with him staring down at you like you were nothing but prey.

”As if.” You snort. “Like you’d even know what to do.” Your eyes flicker up towards his, the fear in your gaze clouded over with that same snark you wore so well. “That’s why you're acting so desperate, right?” Despite the situation, you still find it in yourself to twist your lips into a mocking pout. “Poor guy’s never gotten his dick wet? Gotta put a hatchet to a girl’s throat to actually get some?”

Just like that, you’ve pushed all the wrong buttons. Maybe the right ones actually, depending on how you look at it. Toby’s expression twists, that look of nonchalant amusement melting away for something much darker.

And there's barely even any time for you to think before he’s moving again.

”O-Oh, you’re fuckin’ askin’ for it now.” The hatchet finally leaves your throat, giving you a moment of reprieve to finally take in a few wheezing breaths. It doesn’t leave Toby’s hand though, even as his free hand reaches up to grasp your chin roughly. Out of sight, but barely out of mind. You knew the weapon was just lying in wait. “So eine dumme kleine Schlampe.” He husks out “You’re t-tryin’ to get me riled up on pu-purpose, aren’t you?

”Am not.” You argue back, your stomach flipping when a waver sneaks its way into your words. Just like that, cover blown.

”Are t-too.” Toby snorts, before lifting his arm and lodging his hatchet back in the tree above your head. The sound of wood splintering makes you flinch, but you barely has any time to even think about it before Toby pulls out his ace card. “W-Want me to prove it?”

He asks, but the question seems to just be of courtesy more than anything else. Because before you can think Toby’s free hand is drifting downwards - skirting over the curve of your waist, palm flat against you as he drifts down over your stomach, before finding its destination. Snug between your thighs. The heel of his palm pressing firmly up against your clothed clit as his digits tease your entrance through the thick fabric of your jeans.

The contact has you jolting immediately, mouth dropping open in shock and yet your hips buck towards him. Proving him right, though the words you’d speak would try to refute your own actions. It’s all futile. Toby knows that, and you do too - even if it's buried deep down.

”Fuck off, Toby-“ You grit out, jaw tense as he only presses in closer. A low hum of amusement rumbling from his chest as he adds a little more pressure to his touch. Forcing the crease of your jeans to press roughly up against your clit, sparking an array of tingles down her legs that make your knees feel gooey. You try in earnest to cut him a glare, but it’s a little difficult to be convincing when your expression is buckling just a few seconds later. It’s unavoidable, especially when his palm starts rubbing slow teasing circles against your heat.

If you really wanted to, you could probably shove him off. His guard was down, his hands were free of his weapons. You could easily stun him with a blow to the nose and then sprint off. Every nerve in your body was telling you to do just that, and yet for some reason, you found yourself rooted in place. Slowly but surely melting as the bark pressed into your back. “You’re such a fuckin’ creep.”

”Yeah? A-Am I?” Toby laughs as his other hand finds a home gripping your waist, tugging your hips forwards to meet his movements, forcing even more pressure behind his touch. By this point, the effect is undeniable. You can feel your clit throbbing within the confines of your panties, can feel the flimsy material grow more and more damp with each press of his hand. “Well you’re a Lügnerin.” His head dips down low, stubble scratching at her jawline before he parts his lips - letting his teeth drag against the sensitive flesh. A taunt. “Actin’ like you’re not a-a whore, even though I can smell it on you.” He pinches your skin between his teeth with a sharp nip, making your eyebrows scrunch up. “You’re soaking your panties r-right now, aren’t you? Just from me tossing you a-around a little?”

”Am not.” The lie you spit out is laughable, and it’s fuelled by your pride alone. You know, that if things continue to escalate like they had been, he’ll be finding out about your fallacy soon enough.

”Dirty fuckin’ liar.” Toby husks out against her skin, before pulling his head back. His eyes are dark and predatory as they drop downwards, tracking his own movements as his hand drifts upwards - fingers meeting the cold metal button of your jeans. “Y-You’re just sayin’ that because you want me to find out. Nicht wahr, Hase?”

The button of your jeans is popped, and the zipper is tugged down in quick succession, calloused fingers rough against soft skin when his hand dips below the denim’s hem, wasting no time before he’s cupping your core through your panties. “A-Ah, see?” He gently rubs you through the thin fabric, his smile only widening when he feels the dampness that coats his fingers because of it. “Du bist nur eine dumme Schlampe.”

You’re gasping when Toby’s fingers push the material of your panties to the side, auburn curls falling in front of your eyes as you wriggle in his grip. “D-Don’t act like you don’t want this.” Two fingers dip into your wetness, gathering up all that sweet slick that had accumulated between your folds. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” He chuckles darkly. “Pussy’s practically beggin’ for it and I’ve barely even done anything.”

His thumb glides against your clit, two fingers teasing your slit but refusing to dip inside. Just to watch you squirm. “C’mon, j-just admit it. Tell me how bad you w-want it.”

Over your dead body.

“Fuck you.” You manage to grit out, eyebrows furrowed as waves of pleasure lick up your spine. But you won’t melt for him, can’t give in to someone like him.

“Ah, alright.” Toby snorts, one eyebrow cocked in amusement as his eyes rave over the pitiful state before him. “B-Be a bitch about it, that’s fine by me.”

In one swift movement his hand slips out of your jeans, and then both hands are on your hips - using his grip to spin you around harshly, pressing the front of your body against the tree you were pinned against. “I-I’ll fuck that attitude outta you, d-don’t you worry.”

The intensity of the situation was increasing exponentially, Toby’s movements growing bolder and bolder as the seconds ticked by. His calloused hands were rough but his actions were rougher - pushing and pulling your body to his will, blunt fingernails scratching at your skin when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your jeans. “Y-You’re so soft.” He hums in appreciation as he tugs the material down your hips, bringing your panties down with it. The cold air surrounding the two of you makes you hiss when it hits your bare cunt. “Aw, you cuh-cold?” Toby snickers. “Keine Sorge, ich w-werde dich aufwärmen.”

“Toby-“ Your words are cut off by a palm pressing to the side of your head, shoving your face against the rough bark of the tree. You sputter for a moment, too stunned to even register the sound of a belt buckle coming undone behind you. “Toby, I’m serious. Get your dirty hands off of me!”

“Y-You’re serious?” Toby chuckles darkly, dark eyes glinting as he raves over the sight before him. His fellow proxy bent over before him, pretty pudgy hips looking like the perfect canvas to leave a collection of bruises on. Your jeans keeping her legs bound at the knees, bare cunt glistening with arousal that told the truth far better than your words did. “Fuh-Funny. So am I.”

With a soft hiss he frees his cock from his boxers, already achingly hard just from batting around this little toy of his. His free hand reaches forwards, harshly gripping your hip and tugging you backwards - making your eyes blow open wide when his length presses up against you from behind. “N-Notice how you’re j-just lettin’ it happen? Die dumme Hure weiß nicht einmal, was sie will.”

He nudges his hips forwards, grinding his cock against your wetness - getting the shaft all nice and coated with your slick as a soft groan rumbles from his chest. “I’ll make the decision f-for you. Aren’t you a lucky thing?”

“T-Toby-“ Your body slumps against the bark, breathing going more ragged each time the head of his dick caught on your entrance. Teasing what was to come. You couldn’t see him, but you could tell he was packing. Just the head causing a stretch that made your stomach flip every time he notched it inside her, only to slip past again. “You- fuck -You can’t-“

“I can’t?” Toby barks out a laugh, his fingers curling deeper into your flesh, watching how it indents from his grip. “From where I-I’m standing, it’s lookin’ like I can.”

Not even given the courtesy of being fingered open a little, your breath catches when you feel the head of his cock press more firmly against you. So much need behind his actions you could practically smell it in the air. “Deep breath, kaninchen.” He murmurs. “This might hurt ya’ a l-little.”

And that’s the only warning he gives you. Because next, he’s nudging his hips forwards - ripping a startled moan from your lungs as his cock bullies its way into her heat. So tight, it makes his teeth grit, eyebrows furrowing and breathing going shallower with each inch he sinks in.

Your legs begin to shake, tears pooling in your eyes as he stuffs you fuller and fuller, to the point where you’re pretty sure he’s going to break you before he even fully sheaths himself. But then, his hips meet yours, right as your ears start to ring. “Hah-“ Toby gasps out, his voice strained. “You-You’re fuckin’ tight. Pussy’s tryna strangle me.”

With another nudge of his hips he gets himself deeper, and your vision starts to blur around the edges. “This cunt was m-made to take me, wasn’t it?”

All he gets in response is a strained whine, but that’s not what he was looking for. Not even close. “Words, slut.” He growls out, using his grip on your hips to keep you pulled back on him - no room to wriggle free. “You were made to take my cock, weren’t you?”

“Fuck off.” You gasp out, the words coming out gargled and breathless. You can barely even think past the feeling of Toby’s cock stretching you open, your inner walls twitching and pulsing around his cock as you struggle to accommodate him. “Cocky bastard.” His hips draw back only minutely, before he’s shoving himself right back in to the hilt - knocking all the air out of your lungs.

“You’re a fuckin’ stubborn bitch, aren’t you?” Toby snaps, releasing your waist with one hand just to reach up above you. In one sharp move he rips his abandoned weapon out of the tree trunk, letting out a soft grunt before he’s raising the metal to your neck. Right under your jawline, the edge of his blade just barely pressing against your skin. An undeniable threat. “How about now? S-Still gonna keep that snark if I lob your pretty head off?”

And then, his hips are moving. His length dragging against your walls on each pull out, just for the head to press against your g-spot on every stroke back in. Harsh, jerky, barely an ounce of care in his actions. His weapon jostling every time his skin smacks against yours, his carelessness only adding to the danger. “C’mon, benimm d-dich wie die Hure, von der ich weiß, dass du sie bist.”

You’re breathing shaky through your nose, your head spinning from a mixture of arousal and unbridled fear - stomach leaping every time the blade of his hatchet presses against your skin just a little too harshly. It’s hard to tell if he’s truly being serious, but your wouldn’t put it past him. If anything, you’re sure he’s done worse. And yet, the pleasure still rears its head, even though it’s bordered by a fear that makes your gut twist. You knew how absolutely pitiful you looked. Could feel the wetness seeping out of you, dirtying both you and Toby - creating a sickening sticky sound every time his hips separated from yours. “Say it. S-Say this sloppy little cunt was made for me.”

“F-Fuck, okay-“ You groan out, eyebrows pinching together as a shiver of pleasure goes down your spine. His cock is throbbing inside you, fucking more slick out of you with each brutal press in. In the otherwise silent forest, the sound of skin on skin is loud. Near deafening every time his hips collide with yours. “This- shit- This pussy was made for you.” You spit out the words like they’re venom on your tongue, barely even able to verbalize them through the gasps and moans leaving your lips. Fingernails gripping the tree trunk before you, you’re ripping bark from the trunk as your fingers scramble to find purchase. Desperate for something to ground you through this brutal onslaught of ecstasy you had been thrown into.

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, despite the frigid air around you. Every nerve in your body set alight, stars dancing behind your eyelids with each stroke Toby was delivering to you. Not a chance of reprieve. No room to breathe. Such an overwhelming sea of pleasure that it’s easy to forget that the person dealing it still has a hatchet to your neck. “Toby, fuck- S’too much-“

”Aw, n-no it’s not.” Toby chuckles softly, his grip only tightening as he fucks into you harder - dark eyes honed in on the sight of your skin rippling every time his hips met yours. On the glistening sheen you were leaving his cock coated in every time he pulled out. “Think I c-can’t feel you tightening up around me?” Despite you abiding to his wishes, he keeps the hatchet nestled right up against your neck. Not enough pressure to break skin, just enough to keep the threat evident. “Feels good, don’t it? Such a slut you’re gonna cum on my cock even though I could kill you in a second?”

“M’not-“ You whine out, but it’s just another lie. You can feel it. Had been able to feel it for a while now. That familiar heat, burning hotter and hotter with each snap of Toby’s hips. Struggling to hold it back, when every press in had him pressed snug up against your g-spot.

”I think you are.” Toby snickers, before finally dropping the hatchet. It hits the snowy ground with a thud, before he’s grabbing your hips with both hands - all restraint gone as he fucks into you with a quicker, faster pace. “C’mon. Give it to me. Y-You’re so close, I can feel it.”

You are. To the point where no amount of willpower could keep your orgasm at bay. Not when Toby was slamming into you like an animal, husky groans slipping out of his lips with each stroke. It only takes a few more before you’re crumpling. Going near limp against the tree as your orgasm hits you like a truck - vision damn near going white as a white hot wave of pleasure washes over you from head to toe. Knees buckling completely, Toby’s firm grip being the only thing keeping you upright as you goes fully pliant in his hold.

So dazed, so fucked out, you barely even hear Toby hiss out a string of curses from behind you, but you feels it when his hips stutter.

Only two more pumps before he’s cumming undone right alongside you - cock still pressed deep when he spills his load. Head dropping down low to rest against your shoulder blades before he’s groaning lowly against your skin. “Hah- Fuck, such a good fuckin’ cunt. T-Tryna milk me dry.”

Trying, or succeeding? Definitely the latter. Because by the time Toby’s pulling out, you’re still stuffed with him - milky white ropes of cum dribbling out of your abused cunt and running down your thighs. Toby lets out an amused hum before reaching down, then he’s scooping it all back up with two fingers and promptly pushing it right back inside you. “Cute.” He snickers. “You made a mess.”

”I made a mess?” You rasp back out, weakly looking over your shoulder to cut him the meanest glare you could muster up. The verdict was, not very convincing, because your face was still flushed with eyes fucked out and hazy.

”Yeah.” Toby chuckles. “Y-You made a mess.” He delivers a sharp slap to one of your ass cheeks before letting out a snort of a laugh. “Don’tcha worry though, th-the boss’ll get a good report from me this time. Looks like you can be useful.”

You rolls your eyes before letting out a shaky breath, trying (and failing) to regulate your heart rate once more.

”Yeah, I guess you can be too.”

—

helloooooo friends! yes yes this was a commission! thank you to the lovely who sent this to me and gave me the permission to post this on my blog <3

as I said up top, my commissions are closed for now, but if you’re interested in something like this for yourself hit me up once they’re open again! I usually take around 5 commissions at a time before I close them for breathing room :)

[horny-marbles]

How do the different creeps react with a girlfriend that's very physically affectionate? She loves to kiss them hello and goodbye. Loves cuddle with them on the couch and in bed. Sit on their lap. Loves to play with their hair, scratch their scalp. Will sometimes get overcome with love and attack their entire face with kisses.

I myself am very much like this lol. Can be as fluffy (or even smutty) as you wish

me too me too 🙂‍↕️ they'd die smothered by my lips fr. i also added liu (and sully) in here because i thought he was prime material for this lol :p cw for some very mild smutty mentions but nothing too crazy. enjoy! :D

Creepypastas with a Cuddlebug Girlfriend — Headcanons

Eyeless Jack

⚉ it took forever to get here. months of flinches, vanishing acts, stiff body language and cold silences. you were patient, but he really fucking tested it. he kept pulling away like your affection was something poisonous, like he didn’t deserve the warmth in your hands. there were nights you nearly left—not because you didn’t love him, but because he clearly didn’t think he should be loved in return.

⚉ as emotionally constipated as he is, Jack is unironically the quietest simp on earth. no grand gestures, no soft declarations, no love poems in the dark—but he’ll go pliant under your hands the moment you put them on him. lets you crawl all over him, straddle his thighs, bury your face in his neck, press open-mouthed kisses to his ribs. sometimes you wonder if he’s just enduring it, if he’s humoring you.

⚉ but then he starts purring. subtle, constant, low like a distant engine. you don’t hear it as much as you feel it, thrumming through his chest when you’re tangled up together and the world is silent.

⚉ he still rarely initiates. but once the gates were down, he started soaking it up like bone-dry earth after rain. he doesn’t stop you when your affection goes over the top—when you're curled in his lap, peppering kisses across his jaw, calling him stupid pet names just to see if he’ll twitch.

⚉ he never asks for cuddles, never says he wants to be held. but the second you climb into bed or settle beside him on the couch, his arms snake around you like they’ve been waiting all day, grip firm and protective, like he’s anchoring you both.

⚉ lets you bite him whenever the affection gets too intense for you to handle. especially his arms and biceps. doesn’t flinch, doesn’t complain, doesn’t push you away—even when you accidentally bite down too hard. the marks stay for days, but he never covers them up. if anything, he runs his fingers over them sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking.

⚉ he loves when you trace the hollows of his shoulder blades and spine. long, slow touches down his back when he's shirtless? he’ll sit there, eyes shut, breathing slowed, fingers twitching like he wants to say something but physically can’t. he doesn’t say he wants to be touched, but the way he subtly exposes skin is his way of inviting it. sits in bed shirtless after a shower and doesn’t look at you, but his back is right there. take the hint.

⚉ fixates on your neck a lot. he stares at your throat constantly. or, you know, his face is tilted towards it. it’s not always sexual—it’s fascination. You tilt your head to the side and he just tracks the movement like a predator, sharp and quiet. your throat ends up with faded bite marks all the time once he got comfortable with using his teeth on you, and when you point them out, he just rumbles, “Then stop offering it.”

BEN Drowned

모 from day one, the second you started getting all sticky and cuddly with him, he started teasing the hell out of you for it. not in a mean way—just that mellow, lazy roast voice he has, the kind that sounds like he's halfway to sleep and halfway to a blunt.

“Dude, you’re like… emotionally horny. That’s wild.”

but he’s grinning. that slow, shit-eating grin that says he loves it. that he eats up every clingy kiss and every over-the-top pet name and every time you crawl onto him like a needy little koala. he barks, but he basks.

모 he revels in cuddle sessions when he’s high. joint between his fingers, you in his lap or spread out beside him, some dumb show playing he’s not even watching—he’s in heaven. his hands get real loose, one hand always low on your thigh, thumbing lazy circles or sliding under your shirt with zero fanfare, just to feel skin.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles into your neck, half-lidded and warm against you. “You’re like… a fuckin’ cloud. Or a hot marshmallow or some shit.” then he starts giggling at his own description and buries his face in your chest like he’s trying to suffocate himself in your tits.

모 zero shame, zero urgency. he’ll rub his cheek against your stomach while you stroke his hair and mumble the nastiest compliments with all the energy of a guy talking in his sleep.

“You’re lucky I’m too high to rail you right now,” he slurs with a kiss to your ribs. “You'd be cryin'."

모 when he initiates affection, it’s barely even conscious. has this thing where he’ll hook a finger through your belt loop or hoodie pocket as you walk by just to pull you into his lap, even if he’s busy gaming. doesn’t even pause his game. he makes an obnoxious smooch sound, presses a lazy kiss to your temple, slaps your ass once, then goes right back to clicking buttons like nothing happened. half the time you’re just part of the furniture. a very warm, kissable, touchable piece of furniture that smells really good.

모 gets this really soft look when you kiss his hands—like an actual visible lag in his brain. he stares for a second, eyes lowered, breathing paused like you’ve just triggered some long-lost human file. Then he flexes his fingers in yours and says something stupid like "Damn. Didn’t realize I was royalty.”

모 a little bitch about you playing with his pointy ears. all "ugh, you got an elf kink?!" and "bro, you're fuckin' weird, stop doing that", until you actually pull your hands away. then it's suddenly, "babe, c'mon stop playing," and tucking his hair behind his ears to give you room.

모 borderline religious experience levels of fixation on your thighs. if you don't open your legs to let him sit between them he gives you this look like you just personally offended him and says, "What?? You mad at me or some shit? What did I do??"

Ticci Toby

𓌏 second-place simp only because Jack’s quiet obsession is unbeatable—but Toby gives everything back tenfold, and then some once you make it known that you're touchy-feely. he’s not gentle about it either. he loves hard, and he loves fast, like you’re gonna vanish if he doesn’t show you right now how much he needs you.

𓌏 the worst kisser on Earth (subjective). when you initiate with sweet smooches, he tackles you like a linebacker and crashes your mouths together so hard your teeth click. no aim, no finesse, too much jaw, tongue immediately. and then he pulls back with this big, stupid grin like, “That w-was good, right? Hah. G-gimme another one.” you're half-way to a concussion.

𓌏 you tried to sneak up behind him and bear hug him once. big mistake. he turned it on you and crushed you so tight against his chest that he almost broke your nose.

𓌏 you bite him playfully, and he bites back with zero restraint. doesn’t register how hard it is until you scream. he jerks back with your arm in his mouth, blinking in horror at the indents like they bit him. mouth wet with spit and the faintest trace of red, his expression crumpling like, “W-what?? Wh-what’d I do?? I-I didn’t—wait, y-you’re crying??” full kicked-puppy energy while you're nursing a war wound.

𓌏 cuddling during a movie is virtually impossible. just being near you gets him half-chubbed and distracted. and if he’s the big spoon it’s over. within minutes there’s a hand under your shirt like it belongs there, groping you like it's his emotional support tiddy. “I’m n-not d-doing nothin’, promise,” he mumbles, already rolling his hips into your lower back. “Y-you’re just s-s-soft… and warm…”

a beat of silence.

“…C-can I p-put it in though? C'mon, just a m-m-minute— Please?? We can s-still watch!"

𓌏 touch-starved to hell and back. has to be in physical contact with you constantly. holding your hand even when it's sweaty and awkward. arm slung over your shoulder. leg thrown across your lap. chin on your head. elbow in your ribs. he’s like a weird affectionate dog that never learned boundaries and never wants to.

𓌏 needy to the point of insanity. you so much as touch his thigh in passing and suddenly he’s grabbing your hand and dragging it to his crotch, muttering, “Y-you did that on purpose, d-don’t act innocent.” you didn’t. but it doesn’t matter, he's already hard.

𓌏 hair-pulling is his heroin. there's no "lazy, gentle scalp massages" with him. you try to detangle his mess of curls and he just keeps going, “Harder. Harder—mmmf, ha-harder" while you're one pull away from scalping him. but he just smiles and leans into it, completely unfazed by the fact that his head is being yanked back.

Brian Thomas/Hoodie

☹ you had to break him down slowly. he had walls of steel, thick as hell with barbed wire on top, but your affection chipped at it like water on rock. at first he dodged it—literally. you’d lean in for a kiss and he’d shift just slightly to avoid it, muttering “Don’t.” not because he didn’t want it, but because he wanted it too badly.

his reasons were always the same:

“You don’t want this. I’m not even here half the time.”

“Stickman fucks with my head. I could forget your face tomorrow.”

“You should be with someone real.”

☹ but none of that stopped the way he lingered. your touch magnetized him. you’d reach for his hand and he’d sigh but let you take it, fingers twitching like he didn’t trust himself to squeeze back.

☹ he’ll tell you he’s not a cuddler, that he “gets too hot,” that he “can’t relax like that,” that he “doesn’t sleep well next to people.” but you soon find out he sleeps better when you tangle your legs with his. can’t fall asleep unless your hand’s resting somewhere on him—his side, his chest, his wrist, doesn’t matter.

☹ he doesn’t initiate often—can’t risk falling harder than he already has—but when he does it’s a problem. it's rare and raw, and it makes your chest cave in every time. because he will just randomly sigh like he had to make a life or death decision in his head, make eye contact so intense it feels like bracing for impact, and he kisses you like he hasn't seen you in years.

☹ weak for domestic touches. tug his shirt straight for him. smooth his collar. wipe something off his cheek with your thumb. his brain just shorts out. he stands there like a statue with his eyes flicking between your hand and your face like he’s not sure which to kiss first.

☹ he LOVES when you kiss the bridge of his nose or the crease in his brow when he’s frowning. you do it to soften him up, and it works every time.

☹ Hoodie takes. affection makes him feral. especially right after missions—blood under his nails, eyes glassy, breath heavy—and you grab his face and kiss him like he’s still human? he ruins you. shoves you against the wall, fucks you like he’s still high on adrenaline. like if he doesn’t bury himself inside you, he’ll forget who he is.

☹ he can’t process gentleness right away. the first time you ran your fingers through his hair while he was still breathing heavy post-mission, he froze like you’d hit him. then he grabbed your wrist and dragged your hand back. "Again. Do that shit again."

☹ when you kiss his jaw while he’s still tense, he exhales like the pressure valve just cracked. you do that enough times, and he starts chasing your kisses with his own—down your throat, across your collarbone, rough and desperate.

☹ when you’re clingy with Hoodie, he doesn’t push you away. he lets it happen, but he doesn’t respond like Brian. he just holds you tighter, stiffer, more possessive. like he’s cataloging every second of it to replay later when he’s buried under orders and blood.

☹ kissing him through the mask undoes him. you press your mouth to the fabric and he flinches like it's more intimate than actual skin on skin. he'll stare at you like he doesn't know how to process it, and then rips it up to his nose just enough to crush his mouth against yours like he needs the proof you’re real and not some hallucination.

☹ if you help him clean up after he comes back—using a clean rag to wipe the blood that seeped through the mask on his face—he'll completely freeze for a full minute before yanking himself away from you with this ragged, broken exhale, like you just slit his throat. "No, no, stay the fuck away, this— you don't— don't fuckin' touch me, you're staining your hands. You don't deserve this." he fully shuts down on you like you just reached some purgatory in his mind, and he only comes back after you coax him softly.

Tim Wright/Masky

⦻ so fucking reluctant. not because he doesn’t want the affection—he wants it like he’s dying of thirst—but because he doesn’t trust it. he'll tip toe around it in the beginning like he's scared letting his guard down would instantly make you vanish. you’ll sometimes catch him just looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s not lustful—it’s like he’s trying to memorize you, afraid his brain’s going to betray him again.

⦻ when you get clingy with him (cuddling on the couch, draping over him while he’s trying to smoke or read), he groans and mutters a half-hearted “Jesus Christ…” but makes no effort to move you. He just lets out this long-suffering sigh like he’s being tortured—and then subtly wraps an arm around you, fingers digging into your hip.

⦻ touch-starved in the saddest way. if you’re rubbing circles into his back while he lays on your chest, this man is out. fast asleep. snores like a truck.

⦻ the real killer for Tim is casual affection. walking past him and you grab his face to give him a kiss like it's second nature. or holding his hand absentmindedly while watching TV. every time, he looks at you like he can’t believe you're doing it without thinking. sometimes tears up because of it and (badly) covers it up with a yawn.

⦻ he won’t initiate affection often, but he will hover. walks too close, sits too close, lingers near doorways so you’ll come to him first. it's his way of saying “please touch me” without saying anything at all.

⦻ back of the neck touches wreck him. you slide your hand up under the back of his shirt to press your palm there—under his jacket, under his defenses. you feel him go still every time. it’s grounding. he’d never ask for it, but if you stop doing it during a hug, he’ll lean back into your hand, subtly chasing the touch.

⦻ Masky is the complete opposite of Hoodie when it comes to you cleaning him up after a mission. he goes still, but not from shame. his head tilts, eyes half-lidded behind the mask like he’s watching prey walk willingly into his den. there’s a flush creeping down his neck, a hungry glint in his eye, and he’s already half-hard under the weight of your care. he gets a rush from this—your soft hands, your worried little frown, the way you treat him like something precious even when he’s soaked in blood. the way you serve him like this without even having to ask for it.

⦻ you say “I missed you,” arms open to hug him, and he makes a low, scoffing sound in his throat—but the way he grabs you by the back of your neck to kiss you says otherwise.

⦻ Masky doesn’t process “normal” intimacy well. you rest your head on his shoulder, and he’s grabbing your thigh like it’s a green light for sex. you hold his hand and he shakes out of it just to grab your throat instead. there’s no filter.

⦻ you try to kiss him and he meets you halfway but way too fast and way too hard. teeth clash, lips bruise; he grabs your jaw to hold you still like you’re prey he’s keeping under control.

⦻ he loves it most when you get rough back, so he can one-up you. when you bite his neck or lips, or yank him in for a kiss like you need him. if he could purr, he would. his way of reciprocating physical affection is making sure you don’t walk right for two days. did i mention he has a control thing yet?

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ umm... jk lol

꒷꒦ first year? misery. if you’re naturally clingy, you might as well be kissing a brick wall that sometimes bites. his concept of physical affection was feral. gropey, aggressive, and mostly used to initiate sex or get a rise out of you. he was obnoxious, didn’t get soft stuff, and laughed in your face if you called him “cute.”

꒷꒦ but if you stomached that… congrats. you unlocked bare minimum boyfriend privileges. he doesn’t initiate affection unless it’s immediately sexual. you’re not getting casual cuddles or soft little kisses just because. that’s not “his style.” he groans EVERY single time you start getting handsy and soft, but he never does much to stop you anymore.

꒷꒦ he accepts hugs. because your tits squish against him and he’s a pig. he’ll either slap your ass hard enough to make you squeak, or pull you in by the neck and kiss you like he’s trying to bruise your lips.

“There. You got your stupid affection. That enough for the day?”

it’s not. you keep coming back like a needy little parasite and he acts like he’s put upon—but his grip always lingers.

꒷꒦ the ONLY time he doesn't piss and moan about cuddling is when you pull him over you in bed, face first into your chest. you try to be cute, sure, but he's a tit guy and he makes it foul instantly. cups the sides of your tits and pushes them together to rub his face in while groaning. instantly hard, too.

꒷꒦ he gets annoyed constantly. like, “can’t-breathe-stop-touching-me-I-swear-to-god” annoyed, but it’s mostly all bark. you straddle him on the couch to cover his face in kisses and he flails, groaning, “DUDE. Get the fuck off. I’m gonna suffocate.” but he doesn't push you off. doesn’t even move. he just grits his teeth and deals with it, eyes fluttering shut the second your lips hit his jaw like the hypocrite he is.

꒷꒦ he sucks at cuddling. or rather—he sucks at not turning cuddling into dry humping within five minutes. you slide next to him in bed, all sweet and warm and wanting to be held, and he immediately shifts behind you and grabs your waist like he’s bracing for impact. his mouth is on your neck before the covers settle.

“You’re the one who climbed in here,” he mutters, hand already between your thighs. “I’m just makin’ the most of it.”

he calls it "cuddling with flavor".

꒷꒦ disgustingly into anything involving his neck. you sneak up behind him, arms around his waist, lips on his neck for less than a second, and he growls, “You got ten seconds to stop before I start fucking you right here.”

Liu Woods/Sully

𓄧 at first, he’s unsure how to handle it. not in a “don’t touch me” way—he actually responds well to touch—but it scares him how much he likes it. he’s used to needing control, keeping his emotions tight, so having someone who’s always hugging him and kissing his cheek and calling him pet names just melts him. he just hides it very, very well.

𓄧 his reactions are delayed. you’ll wrap your arms around him from behind and it’ll take him a second to process it—but once he does, his hands automatically come to rest on yours, like his body reacts before his brain can argue.

𓄧 he’s not good at receiving affection without overthinking it. you nuzzle up to him on the couch and he’s immediately like: “What did I do to deserve this? Are you okay? Are you hiding something?” but he also lets out this tiny, quiet breath when you pet his hair, and that’s how you know he secretly loves it.

𓄧 obsessed with your hands. loves when you run your fingers along his jaw, lace your fingers with his, or cup his face when you kiss him. he has this internal reaction every time like he’s been hit in the chest with a shovel. never says a word about it, just keeps looking for it again and again.

𓄧 he needs physical affection, but he thinks it’s selfish to ask for it, so you’ll often find him standing too close to you, brushing up against you, subtly looking for contact like a stray cat that won’t admit it’s hungry. you sit in his lap and he freezes, then lets out the quietest laugh and leans into you like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

𓄧 he matches your affection in the softest ways. he’ll kiss your forehead when he passes you in the hallway. pulls you closer in bed while still asleep. kisses your hands every time you cup his face or play with his hair. all that subtle, quiet love that he’s never sure how to say out loud.

𓄧 Sully exists to protect the system—especially Liu. he’s not cruel or evil, but he is intense. he runs hot, emotional, and blunt. he’s used to hostility, so your affection throws him off at first, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

𓄧 you learned pretty early when someone else was fronting. the posture was different. the eyes were harder. he flinched less. and he didn’t say much—just stared like he was trying to figure you out like a puzzle.

𓄧 you once kissed his cheek mid-sentence and he just paused, mid-thought. blank and confused. “...What the hell was that for?”

you said “because I wanted to.”

and he stared another beat and muttered, “...Weird,” but he turned his face for you to kiss the other cheek as well. lol

𓄧 Sully doesn’t seek out affection, but once he starts to trust you, he starts allowing it. he’ll grunt when you hug him, but he won’t move away. he’ll scowl if you hold his hand, but he squeezes back. he’s used to being the one protecting, so being loved so openly makes him feel raw and seen in a way that’s almost unbearable. almost.

𓄧 he’s more physical in return than Liu, though. if you kiss him, he grabs your waist and kisses back like it’s a challenge. if you straddle his lap, he’ll start feeling you up instantly—legs, hips, ass, making it feel like it was his idea to begin with.

𓄧 when you cuddle up to him, he makes this sarcastic little noise like “ugh,” but his hands find your waist automatically. his body betrays him every time. he’s all sarcasm and sharp teeth, but he wraps around you like he’s been cold his whole life.

𓄧 after getting comfortable, he lowkey loves to tease you, but acts like it's just aversion to touch, just to fuck with you a bit. you lean in to kiss him and he turns his head last second so you miss his lips. if you pout, his mouth twitches like he's fighting a smile and he leans in with this low tone, "You gonna start crying? Can't you wait until I fuck it out of you?"

[adaki]

Yk I think Toby is by far the least freaky crp in design but the thought of an encounter with him is terrifying.

[carn4g3]

Ooh okay, so I thought of an idea! I guess you could call this your first request on this account, but any possessive headcannons about the li's from the night shift?

(I assumed they'd be possessive from what you mentioned at least)

Creepypasta Relationship HCs

Characters - Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu (& Sully), Ticci Toby, & Eyeless Jack x GN Reader

Summary - How they are in a relationship (w/ a "healthy" dose of possessive tendencies)

TWs - Descriptions of yandere behavior, cheating (and otherwise unhealthy polyamory), abusive or toxic relationships, manipulation, possessive and jealous behaviors, mentions of murder and other violence, & very brief mentions of sex.

Word Count - 3.4k (500-700 each)

A/N: Part 2 is now up folks :)

Part 2 | 3

Jeff the Killer

Almost definitely has a thing with control. As an unwilling pawn to a creature he can't defeat, he tends to approach all things in life less than civilly.

You would likely have to be under Slender's control as well. While he could possibly tolerate someone who has been with Slender for longer than himself, Jeff prefers a more rookie member. Especially if you're being trained as a proxy, he feels a sort of satisfaction knowing his own influence is somehow intermixed with Slender's closest pawns.

Getting into a relationship with him takes time, and, even then, the term relationship is used very loosely. Jeff has interests for short periods of time before moving on to something else that catches his attention. Assuming this is a more long lasting type of relationship, that manifests as him basically disappearing for anywhere from days to months at a time.

He doesn't quite ignore you. If you pass him by chance, he'll acknowledge you with a smidge more endearment than just anyone else. Even if you seek him out, he might agree, albeit on his terms and free time. However, it certainly rivals the near infatuation he exhibits when he's most interested.

That being said, monogamy is not to be expected. If you wanted to discuss it, you probably wouldn't get a straightforward conversation even if you beat it out of him. Jeff doesn't answer to anyone in his mind. He gets to do whatever he wants, when he wants to. If someone else catches his interest, you're the last thing on his mind.

On the other hand, you do have to answer to him. Being stuck in Slender's woods as well, there's only so many people around you, and Jeff feuds with them constantly. If you were to be seeing one of them, that's something they could hold against him, and, to Jeff, that's worse than sin. For that reason, he absolutely policies your other relationships, and, if anything escalates, you're the sole one at fault. Though, Jeff, behind all his boasting, is not the smartest and it is very easy to lie to him if you're even somewhat decent at it.

Jeff is also not the most affectionate in traditional senses. While he understands the general norms of a relationship, he tends to perceive gestures of affection as begrudging requirements rather than something he enjoys doing.

His main aim in a relationship would be sex, any other things falling as secondary or lower.

Non-sexual physical affection is generally stiff or completely non-existent. Depending on his temperament, he can be a little bit sweeter. If you were to ask for a hug, he would (given you two aren't in any sort of public setting) allow you to give him one. He, on the other hand, would stand there like a reluctantly breathing mannequin.

Words of affection are also few and far between. He absolutely won't say he loves you, and it would be like pulling teeth to get him to call you any endearing nickname. But, Jeff does speak to you a bit softer than he does others. His compliments aren't outright but rather a less critical version of his usual vindictive comments. Not to mention, if he's feeling especially placid, he might refer to you by your actual name over whatever bastardization he normally uses.

His most likely form of affection would be in gift giving. Jeff is kind of a kleptomaniac, deriving a weird sort of joy in taking "souvenirs" from those he's killed. If he just so happens to notice something that you've offhandedly mentioned before or (god forbid) even something that makes him think of you, he'll pass it on. Usually, that means finding it on your doorstep (like he's a cat giving you a dead mouse) or having it tossed off to you under the guise of it being "junk."

I will add one concession which is that it's not entirely impossible to get some complacency out of Jeff. One thing that he tends to forget is that you're not completely weak and docile. After all, you interested Slenderman in some way beyond being prey. The most effective would be straight-up physical violence. Jeff doesn't understand emotional cues, and he hardly respects verbal boundaries. A fist to the gut, though? He understands that well. It'll make him think twice.

Overall, things would need to be toxic on toxic.

Homicidal Liu

Hardly as volatile as his brother, Liu is probably the closest you'll get to a "normal" relationship

While he holds a lot of insecurities about his appearance, he has much more room to interact with others in the real world than some of his companions do. He doesn't have a particular preference for who or what you are. If you're under Slender's control, that makes things easier. But, he's just as willing (if only a little hesitant) to form relationships with people outside of the creature's sphere

In my characterization of Liu, he has a bit of a destructive need to be close to Jeff. Some of it stems from his desire to return to a normal life while other parts of it is because he feels a need to be treated poorly somehow. Either way, his agreement to Slender is purely out of a need to be closer to Jeff. For that reason, he doesn't really view the creature in as negative of a light as others. Liu might even encourage you to submit to Slender if you haven't already, though who knows how that might actually go for you.

A complete wannabe romantic. If he sets his eyes on you, he'll go about the motions in the hopes you'll like him back. On the good side, you'll get a couple of nice dates and a bouquet of your favorite flowers for any sort of special event. In the case you don't reciprocate the romantic feelings, however, that does nothing to deter him. He just needs to try harder and eventually he'll wear you down.

Liu doesn't see himself with anyone but you, and he hopes you feel the same. However, he's a bit more flexible if you aren't interested in being exclusive. He fears that denying you fully might turn your interests away from him, so, instead, he'll try to convince you that he's better than whoever else you set your eyes on.

Compared to others, Liu isn't particularly the strongest. He's killed, but he doesn't feel any great pleasure or disgust towards it. It's something he has to do to be near Jeff, that's all. So, he's not one to go straight to physically harming anyone who gets close to you-- that might upset you too. But, he is one hell of a gossip. Any possible dirt he has on the person in question, he'll tell you all about it, maybe even twist it to seem like they hurt him personally. At the end of the day, you love him, don't you? You wouldn't want him to get hurt again, right?

On the more fluffy side, he’s the most consistently affectionate compared to others. Physical affection and words of affection are the main ways he would show his love in a relationship.

He's most physically affectionate when taking you on a date. Holding your hand and kissing your cheek, he does everything the sweet, picture-perfect boyfriend might. Liu's also very willing to indulge whatever requests you have of him. Whatever you want, his arms are open-- literally. In public settings, he gets a bit shyer, a pink flush taking over his features as he reaches for your hand or hastily presses his lips to your own.

When it comes to words of affection, he's quite the poet, like an actual love poet. Is his poetry good? That's subjective. If you indulge him, he might slip a love note or two your way. Although, he was far from a straight-A student. You're pretty sure some of the big words he uses don't quite mean what he thinks, but the thought is generally there. Even if you don't indulge his poetry, he'll still let the words "I love you" fall in your direction alongside a slew of other compliments.

Sully

I don't imagine Sully fronts very much, but, when he does, it's usually for a decently long period of time. Because of this, Liu keeps a diary of sorts so that the other can be a little less disoriented when coming to the front. Sully begrudgingly respects the diary. He doesn't keep up with it like Liu and writes far less, but he keeps the important details in mind.

If you're Liu's partner, he's not too interested in you. Inevitably, he'll be curious at first upon reading about you, but, if you don't catch his interest, he'll move on just as quickly. In that case, you probably won't see him until he fronts again.

In the off chance that he does see you as more than some side character, that doesn't really change much. Just because you're Liu's partner and somehow attracted to their host body (even though Sully is doubtful to believe that), he doesn't just get free range on you. He'll hang around you a bit longer, maybe indulge in a conversation or two. If Sully's relationship with you does develop into something less passive, it would likely be purely sexual in nature.

In general, Sully is unlikely to pursue a romantic partner of his own-- especially if Liu already has a partner. For Sully, Liu's needs matter more than his own, so he gets the final say on romantic relationships. But, he's not incapable of experiencing romantic attraction for another person.

Unlike Liu, you'd have to be under Slender's control for Sully to even consider you. He admires powerful people, so, if you were a more experienced member, that would only be a bonus.

If he did let an actual relationship form between the two of you, it would probably be pretty loosely defined. He wouldn't call himself your boyfriend, but he would scoff if you didn't see him that way. With that, Sully wouldn't entirely mind you were with someone else-- as long as he found them worthy.

(I'm not decided on writing NSFW on this account yet, but there's something there... remind me)

That doesn't dissolve the possessiveness entirely. Sully would still feel like he has some say in your other partners if it's someone he doesn't like. Rather than take that disapproval out on you, he'll go right to the source, and he is not opposed to violence.

In terms of affection in a relationship, Sully is a lot like Jeff in most ways. He's not a fan of initiating softer forms of affection. You would have to be dying in his arms to get him to hug you and most kisses would need to be initiated by you (it's not like he minds, though).

Sully's most valuable asset is his time. When he's fronting, he gets no more than one or two months to get everything done. So, if he chooses to spend his time with you, you better appreciate it. Even if you don't, that might not stop him if he's in deep enough.

Liu would probably be similarly indifferent to Sully's partner whenever he fronts again. He takes a bit more time to get to know you, Sully writing much less about you than Liu would, but he certainly wouldn't grow more fond of you than that.

Ticci Toby

Truly a rollercoaster of a man.

Toby is damn near infatuated with Slender, seeing it as something of a savior to him. Whether you feel entirely the same is irrelevant, you would have to be another proxy. Toby is often trapped in his own mind, not really too observant of things he doesn't need to be. So, you would need to be someone who's a bit more relevant in his life than just an occasional mission-buddy.

Surprise, surprise, Toby struggles with authority. He hates when people have power over him and he knows it (*cough* Tim *cough*). He'll fight any order quite fervently whether that be by outright defying it or just doing something his own way instead. At the same time, he feels the innate urge to be validated for his efforts and garner respect from the very same authority figure. Shockingly, he finds himself gravitated to someone who's been around a bit longer than himself.

You would have to be the one to establish any clear boundaries or definitions in a relationship. Once Toby thinks something, that tends to become his version of fact. He thinks you two are partners? You are. No need to inform you of that, you must already know.

Toby is incredibly insecure in himself. As a result, everyone is a threat to his relationship with you. Anyone could swipe you away if he's not watching carefully enough, so he's on high alert around others-- whether you want him to be or not. At the best of times, he can keep his mouth shut. But, at his worst, he sics himself on others like an untrained guard dog. The offense in question? Causing you to smile in a conversation.

This sort of variety tends to describe most of your relationship. Sometimes, he fails to see any of your flaws, pining any issues he has on either himself or others. Other times, everything is your fault to the point he almost despises you. Those times don't equate to necessarily him distancing himself. Rather, he takes increasingly more frustrating means to get you to change for him. You love him, don't you?

Toby doesn't know much about relationships apart from the stereotypical and heteronormative examples he saw as a child. Regardless of your gender, he tends to think of himself as the "dominating man" of the relationship. Despite that, he tends to be weak to you. It's not the hardest to knock him down a peg or two, depending on his mental state.

His most likely forms of affection are in gifts and acts of service. He's not exactly an artist, but he likes to think he is as he combines various rocks, sticks, and acorns together into some atrocity for you. Almost like a courting bird, he most prefers giving you the pretty or shiny objects he can find throughout the woods. As for his acts of service, those go back to his desire for you to be proud of him. Doing things for you is a natural way for him to achieve that, no matter how ridiculous or damaging your request might be. This aspect of his is almost too easy to exploit.

Toby is very awkward with physical affection. Being around you heightens his nerves and, in turn, his tics. He worries that he'll jab you too hard with his elbow or accidentally smack you with an involuntary hand flick. So, he stays close but never too close: hovering is the best way to describe it. Toby exists near you like a presence, just a few feet away and fiddling with his hands as he waits for you.

Words of affection are also difficult for him for similar reasons. He despises the way his voice comes out cut and stuttered and saying such big things like "I love you" takes a lot of effort out of him. On that note, he can be quite the talker once you two get closer. When he's comfortable around people, he likes to tell them about his interests in long, rambling ways with a little glimmer in his eyes. It's almost comical how easily you can initiate such word vomit from him.

Eyeless Jack

EJ has been a personal fav of mine for many years now.

While I'm an absolute sucker for the beauty and the beast trope with this guy, I think a relationship with someone else under Slender's control is most likely. Despite that, he would definitely be more likely to fall in love with a more human member than another supernatural one. Jack craves nothing more than the nostalgia and familiarity of humanity, so, if a human partner is the closest he can get, then so be it.

A relationship with Jack is beyond a slowburn. He wouldn't admit feelings for you even if it killed him. Jack despises who he is and thinks that every nice thing around him should feel the same. For that reason, it would take you to be the catalyst for the relationship. Good luck doing that though when Jack starts avoiding you like the plague, a pretty common occurrence. Even if you do voice the thoughts for him, he might still hide in the hopes you'll forget them.

Once in a relationship, he's the most likely to make it clear that he wants you two to be exclusive. While I tend to hesitate on making his more demonic traits too animalistic, I think it's reasonable to suggest that he has quite the strong nose. You have a scent, perhaps even one beyond whatever hygiene products you wear, and so does everyone else. If you don't smell like, well, you, it unsettles him in a certain way. That's his reasoning, at least.

In reality, he's more possessive than he lets on. To an extent, it's not a complete ruse on his part. He does truly believe the things that he asks of you are because his demonic nature makes the alternative impossible. It would be a lie to say there isn't some almost inexplicable mental gymnastics to get to that point, however. He can handle you having platonic relationships with others, no matter how much he feels his hands twitch unpleasantly at the thought. Jack struggles to fully commit to making you "all his" given that he doesn't think he deserves anything.

Expanding on his self-hatred a bit further, Jack is most vocal about these feelings with you. The sheer amount of time it took for the two of you to get together allowed for the establishment of more than enough trust on his part. He'll rarely dump it all at once. Instead, he makes comments here and there about hating certain features of his, or, if that's too much, he'll look so obviously sad about it. The reassurances feel cute, almost more domestic than you expected... at first.

Jack doesn't actively seek praise or compliments from others. If anything, he tries to practically disappear in most social settings. So, to have someone reaffirm him so readily, it's almost intoxicating. It would be a lie to say he doesn't fish for compliments on occasion, highlighting some insecurity of his to an unnecessary degree in the hopes you'll dote on him over him. Honestly, you might have swayed his worries on the issue entirely, but he'll be damned if he doesn't hear you say it again and again and again.

Acts of service and quality time are his go to forms of affection. Jack is guilty of hovering even more so than Toby is. If you're doing something, he's willing to help with whatever it is (there's very little he can't do) or at least linger around you if you don't want the help. When you're not busy, he still likes to linger near even if you two are doing separate things. Another heightened sense of his is hearing, so he basks in the quiet. As his partner, hearing you is a big comfort to him, even if it's just your soft breaths.

As is customary now, Jack doesn't think he's deserving of physical affection even though he craves it. He's shockingly strong willed and won't initiate anything unless you specifically instruct him to. He's most partial to being held by you, but is willing and happy to act as your personal pillow if need be. Sometimes, he can be a bit too cautious with his expressions of physical affection. Between his claws, his strength, and the inhuman black substance that drips from his eye sockets, he's a big fan of hover hands.

For words of affection, Jack is not a talker whatsoever. Despite his transparency on his insecurities, it flusters him greatly to share how he truly feels about you. He can only bring himself to say he loves you when he's sure you're deep asleep. Regardless, he'll manage to throw around an occasional compliment or two. Usually, it's uttered painstakingly quiet and you'd be lucky if he ever actually repeated it for you to hear better.

I fear there is some favoritism between these characters and I need to write more asshole EJ hcs.

[deathlyalcohol]

Headcannon !Toby

Side note from author: So I am finally awake again and thank you so much for the positive feedback, I have only slept 5h my brain is mush hahah

CW: NSFW, Mention of stalking, obsessive, abuse, a bit suggestive?, just horny toby in general

When it comes to toby I have two headcannons, one where he has a „normal“ live and isn’t a proxy.

And one where he is a fucked up killer.

Notproxy!Toby is more of a laidback kind of guy. He smokes cigarettes & doesn’t go to college he just works in the bar or rather hangs out with Tim & Brian -> they are also a bit fucked so it doesn’t drift away from the cannon much.

But when it comes to you. He takes care of you doing everything you ask, just the thought of you commanding him makes him hard. I‘d say he likes a dominate partner. He is bisexual so doesn’t matter what gender you are as long as you treat him special.

„Fuck.. Hah~. You feel so g-good. I c-can’t believe I‘m fucking you.“ he groans under his breath.

He also tends to light cigarettes during sex, blowing the smoke on your body. You look so hot being naked underneath him.

ALSO I hc him HEAVILY as a German/Norwegian/American person - his mother is half Norwegian & American, whereas his dad was german. -So tell me if you want me to write some German/Norwegian (I rlly have to practice Norwegian more)

He lovesss being clingy but sometimes avoids it because he thinks you won’t like it as much. Still when both of you go out and someone tries to talk to you/ask you for your number he immediately gets possessive and tells them to fuck off or else. Working at a bar he saw some things, he knows how dangerous people can be.

Proxy!Toby on the other hand is not only possessive but toxic, like full on and off relationship (between these „breaks“ he still stalks you) knowing you can’t see him. He’s looking through the window, you live home alone, he knows you only go around with some sweatpants and if you feel like it topless. God the thought is driving him crazy, his hands travelling down to fist his cock.

„Fuck.. n-need them so badly.“ he mutters under his breath.

He can’t control himself around you. God he can never control himself. His mood swings and tourette driving him mad whenever something is going wrong. Letting his anger out on you, verbally and physically (yes yes hatefuck too😍)

But he leaves when you notice any kind of movement outside of your house. He’s a very skilled killer, he won’t get caught, he knows.

Sometimes you think if you should stop wearing less clothes in the house but summer time is such a tortures time.

Oh well maybe my next post should be Toby hatefucking you ? Please tell me if you want Proxy!Toby or NotProxy!Toby

Or any other fiction I should write 🫶

MY MASTERLIST

[thediaryofaurora]

ticci toby nsfw headcanons 😭🤲 can’t express how much i love your hc’s bro its so good 🥹💗 pls keep cooking

☆Ticci Toby Relationship HCs☆

CW: NSFW, f!reader

THANK YOU SO MUCH! This ask single-handedly brought me out of my writing slump. I went ahead and added SFW dating HCs as well, a little bonus 🙌 Also I’m in a leg brace from soccer so I’m stuck in bed.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

★SFW★

- This guy has got a LOT on his mental plate, be prepared for that.

- He is 100% a friends to lovers type of guy. He’s not easily trusting, so that relationship really has to be built up.

- When he does have a crush on someone he beats himself up about it because he feels so stupid for thinking you’d ever like him back.

- Moving onto actually dating him, he is so so so insecure. Lots of reassurance is needed, but if you’re able to get through to him he eventually realizes you actually like him.

- Crazy touch starved. In the first few months of dating he’s super unsure of if he can kiss you or even put his arm around you, he’s HORRIFIED of crossing any boundaries and you leaving. You’ll probably have to make the first move.

- He most likely won’t be the one to ask you out. If you’ve known eachother for a while and he’s feeling a little confident there’s a possibility, but in his mind he’d rather stay friends and get to see you rather than get rejected and you not talk to him anymore.

- LOVES going on dates with you, but he’s a ball of anxiety. It should be easy to cool him down and let him know you’re enjoying it, he’s just so worried about if you’re happy or not.

- Usually thinks going on walks or sitting on a curb together is like the perfect date, ESPECIALLY in the fall. He keeps an old camera on him that he got from Brian so he can make little home videos and capture the moments you spend together.

- Picks up cool leaves, glass shards, or other things left in the forest and makes sure to show you.

- He’s actually not an awful cook. He’s a fast learner in pretty much every aspect and he already knows the basics. His mom taught him when he was young how to make some baseline German dishes, and this man can WHIP that shit up.

- Once you two are to the point in your relationship where you can cuddle, he is ALL OVER YOU. Especially when it’s raining/ thundering out and you two can lay in bed together. Since he overheats easily due to his CIPA, in the colder seasons you’ll have to leave the window open so he can stay cool.

- After seeing how his dad treated his mom, he has a pretty good grasp on how to treat a partner. At times he can fly off the handle, especially with his bipolar disorder, but afterwards he breaks down and apologizes. If at any point you even SEEM like you don’t like him anymore he gets defensive, it makes him very standoffish or snappy.

- Won’t shut up about you after you start dating. Not in a rambling way, but he finds a way to bring you up in every conversation. He doesn’t meant to, but how could he go without telling someone you’d like the flower he just walked by?

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

✩NSFW✩

- VIRRRRGINNNNNNNN.

- I mean VIRGIN virgin, like this guy has had NO activity. No first kiss either. All the knowledge he has is from porn, so he’s completely clueless. If you’re both inexperienced you’ll just have to persevere.

- He’s the kind of person to get turned on looking at a picture of you fully clothed, he’s just so in love with you.

- Before you two start dating he’s 100% taking candid pictures of you or finding your instagram posts and jacking off to them.

- Massive bottom. He puts out a front for a WHILE before you’ll be able to realize he’s not a top, he doesn’t want to look like a sissy. If you suggest being on top he’s BLOWN AWAY. Acts like he’s just doing whatever you want, but afterwards you definitely realize he’s been waiting for it.

- Sensitive as hell. He’s a loud one, but again he doesn’t want to look weak or not masculine enough. He tries to hold his moans and whimpers back and grunt instead, but if you do it just right he’s a whimpering, whining, PANTING, mess. Kiss his neck? He’s rock hard. Even if you’re just giving him a hickey he’s whimpering and bucking his hips into you.

- Tits man 100%. Doesn’t matter what size, the fact that they’re there is enough. When you’re on top of him he prefers for you to face him so he can watch them bounce. When he’s on top he’s usually in missionary so he can still see them.

- Hair pulling kink, specifically his. He can’t feel the pain, but the yank drives him CRAZY.

- Big on oral. Giving or receiving, he doesn’t care. If he’s giving he prefers for you to sit on his face, but he’d never admit that.

- His favorite place to do it is tight spaces. Closets, cars, narrow alleyways. Especially if it adds to the thrill of getting caught.

- STAMINA. He cums crazy fast, but he’s definitely able to make up for it with how many rounds he can go. Even if he came a few minutes ago, it’s already up and ready to go again.

- Likes to have music playing in the back while you do it. He probably already made a playlist the second you started dating, but if you ever want to choose the music he doesn’t mind.

- At first he’s self conscious about his abilities, but after some time and seeing how good you feel he’s a cocky motherfucker. Slyly grinning and looking at you all worn out after a few rounds boosts his ego to the moon.

- Dim lighting all the way. He wants to be able to see you, but he feels too exposed when it’s too bright.

- Not completely opposed to a threesome, it depends on who it is. He’s more protective than possessive, so if he trusts the person enough he’d be okay with it. If it had to be anyone in the mansion it would probably be Cody or Liu, but he’d make sure you’re okay with it.

- Rabid horny teenager.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

[widdowxd]

Portrait dump !!

[koifly]

Some side profiles from my AU + James! It's set in Germany btw

[creepypasta65]

Heyy can you do jeff, ej and whichever character you want to add with a so who has long hair?

Thanks for the request :)

Jeff, EJ and Toby with an s/o who has long hair:

Jeff:

Jeff loves your hair but hates it when it gets all over him.

He often finds a stand on his hoodie, mouth, or pillow.

Jeff will help you brush your hair after you shower.

Sometimes pulls your hair on purpose to see a reaction out of you.

He will give you the nickname of Rapunzel.

EJ:

Jack loves your hair and often buries his head into your hair smelling it.

He loves helping you wash your hair giving you massages and scratches with his nails. Leaves your hair squeaky clean.

Jack loves brushing your hair.

He will get you some claw clips, cute clips or items to put on your hair.

Toby:

Toby loves your hair.

He likes messing around with it.

Toby likes to braid your hair (He knows how to because he used to braid Lyra's hair and also braids Nina's hair).

He also likes sniffing your hair. Toby likes the smell of your shampoo and can't get enough of the scent.

Have a nice day/night :)

[sorvqlz]

Sub!Toby headcanons or fic?

- :3

Sub! Ticci Toby

────────

(Used fxm and mxm pics bcz obviously reader is gn and can be any gender you'd like)

HC's & Fic

Hello! I hope this is what you wanted I believe I couldn've done better to write him more into character, so I really believe it's ooc, still! I hope you like it! 😅

– Toby is still a dangerous killer. In a fight, he’s ruthless, impulsive, and unpredictable. However, in a relationship, he becomes much more passive, letting his S/O take the lead because he craves control in his life—but not from himself.

– Toby doesn’t just get attached; he becomes dependent. He struggles with his emotions and uses his S/O as an anchor, following them like a lost puppy. If they ever pull away, he spirals into violent outbursts, not against them, but at the world around him.

– He listens well, especially to firm orders, but his mind is chaotic. If his S/O is calm and assertive, he follows without question. But if they hesitate or show uncertainty, he might become restless, slipping into violent habits out of frustration.

– Toby doesn’t complain when things hurt—physically or emotionally. He bottles up his pain, pretending he’s fine until he suddenly snaps, either shutting down completely or having a violent breakdown. His S/O might have to pull him back from these moments, grounding him with firm touches or words.

– Compliments make Toby weak. If his S/O tells him he did well or that they’re proud of him, he practically melts. But rejection, even small things like being ignored, cuts deep. He might react poorly, either withdrawing completely or lashing out recklessly.

– His trauma makes him hesitant about intimacy and control. He doesn’t mind letting his S/O take charge, but if they get too forceful in the wrong way, it could trigger a defensive reaction—whether it’s a twitchy retreat or a sharp, dangerous glare.

– Toby’s love isn’t normal. If his S/O ever left him, he wouldn’t just be heartbroken—he’d be destroyed. And he wouldn’t let them go easily. His loyalty is absolute, but it comes with a dangerous edge.

– He won’t get openly jealous, but he watches. If someone gets too close to his S/O, he stares them down with an unsettling grin, hatchets spinning in his hands. He doesn’t need to say anything—his presence alone is a silent warning.

– He may follow orders, cling to his S/O, and seem passive in love, but at the end of the day, Toby is still a killer. If his S/O ever tries to leave or betray him, they might see a side of him that’s much less obedient.

────────

The dim glow of the cabin’s lantern flickered against the rough wooden walls, casting shifting shadows over the worn-out furniture. The air was thick, filled with the lingering scent of pine and something darker—something metallic. Blood. Not yours. Not his. But it was always there, woven into the fabric of your lives.

Toby sat at your feet, his back resting against your legs, his hatchets discarded beside him. His fingers twitched in his lap, a restless tick that never seemed to leave him, even in the quiet moments. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your pants, his presence a constant, unwavering force.

You reached down, threading your fingers into his wild, unkempt curls. His whole body stilled. A sharp breath hitched in his throat, his jaw clenching as he tilted his head into your touch. His yearning gaze flickered up to meet yours, wide and unfocused, lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Toby,” you murmured, dragging your nails lightly against his scalp. His shoulders trembled.

“Mm,” was all he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers twitched harder now, curling into the fabric of your pants as if grounding himself. His need for touch—your touch—was insatiable, but he never asked for it outright. He just stayed close, hoping you’d give it to him.

“You were reckless today,” you continued, watching the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Going off on your own like that.”

His muscles tensed under your hands, but he didn’t argue. He never did when you used that tone. Instead, he gave a slow nod, his head pressing further into your palm, desperate for any scrap of affection you were willing to offer.

“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered, voice hoarse. His lips twitched—whether from his tics or his nerves, you weren’t sure. “Didn’t mean to—just… I don’t think, sometimes.”

You sighed, letting your fingers slide down to his jaw. His skin was warm, rough with old scars, yet soft beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched again, sharp and needy, as his eyes fluttered shut. He looked like he was fighting something—himself, his impulses, his own desire to lose control.

“You like when I touch you, don’t you?” you murmured, barely above a whisper.

His reaction was instant—his breath came out shaky, his grip on your pants tightening. A quiet, broken sound slipped from his throat before he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. His fingers twitched at his sides, nails digging into his palms, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

You leaned down, brushing your lips close to his ear. Not touching, just close enough for him to feel your breath. “Say it.”

His entire body shuddered. “Y-Yeah,” he choked out, voice strained, as if the admission burned his throat on the way up. “I do.”

His obedience sent a slow thrill through you. Toby was dangerous. Unstable. A killer. But in your hands, he was something else entirely—pliant, desperate, waiting for your next move like a loyal dog who didn’t know what to do without a master.

You tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet your gaze. His pupils were blown wide, a flush creeping down his neck. He looked wrecked just from your touch alone, from the simple act of being acknowledged, wanted.

“You’re hopeless,” you murmured, thumb brushing over the corner of his lips.

A shudder rolled through him, and his lips parted on a shaky breath, his entire body leaning into you like he was starved for more.

And, God, he was.

He always was.

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Author's note: I believe I could've done better I think Toby would be more self controlled with this submission reader makes him feel, but sometimes cracking his strong facade perhaps reader teases him until he breaks or smth

[m1lesupshurirl]

Ticci toby without top scars is like an angel without wings

[noctiva]

Behind Closed Doors

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

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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

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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“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!!

[sillyguystrawb]

Minors DNI with this post.

Toby is SUCH a switch and due to being incredibly unstable would be able to go from brutally hard Dom to pathetic service sub in the blink of an eye.

For no discernable reason, he just all of a sudden went "Wait I could beg for you" halfway through choking you and then he did it.

[chronicallycreepy]

Ticci Toby random headcanons:

🪓 He loves going on very long walks

🪓 he gets injured easily, without even noticing, due to CIPA

🪓 Has a lot of scars from the injuries

🪓 Gets a lot of nightmares, mostly about Lyra

🪓 Spends a lot of time outside

🪓 Very hyperactive

🪓 I do think he would ever drink alcohol, because it reminds him too much of his father

🪓 Doesnt really like being in a car, again, because of his past trauma

🪓 The sight of fire calms him down

[totheseus]

TICCI TOBY GENERAL HEADCANONS

ft. Toby Rogers

Due to the hole in his cheek, he mainly eats really quickly and tilts his head to the side without the gash.

Wanted to have been a game programmer when he was younger.

Either very particular about his food or will eat literal trash.

Doodles on himself.

Collects items and gives them to whoever he deems worthy.

This goes without saying, but a pyromaniac.

If you get given phones? He's spamming you with reels. Mostly him trying to make you laugh.

He is VERY awkward. Like, not "cutesy" shy, but "stares at you like a deer in headlights" awkward.

If there is a proxy who he particularly admires? He treats them as if they're untouchable, and he's the dirt beneath their shoe.

I might explore more on this in another post!

More wholesome note. Loves orange juice and pancakes.

Like I said, either eats really specifically or literal trash. Frequently begs Tim to drive him to IHOP or Five Guys. Loves himself some sweaty greasy food.

This is canon, but is heavily neurodivergent. Autism, ADHD, OCD, BPD, etc.

If you're kind to him though, he VERY quickly favourites you.

I've been gone for a short while, but I'm back now! Feel free to ask away.

[jeffthekillerzblog]

don't u love it when ur girl can peel an orange

half joke anyways hi guys headcanon that toby can't peel oranges or like do anything that requires using his nails because he bites them all the time, MEANWHILE nina is the complete opposite she takes much care of her appearance and does daily spa days with jane and sally so her nails are long enough so she peels tobys oranges and helps him like...with whatever else!!