520-xlic

[520-xlic]

Yall need to start writing more puppy!Toby fics, or I'm coming for your asses. WHY HAVENT I SEE MORE???

I'm begging you guys... sniffles.. more puppy Toby fics would heal me.. please

[520-xlic]

Oh my god, thinking about Kinktober and how excited I am for it. SO READY DONT PLAY

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what would YOU do on a lazy day with tobyy? like both of you have nothing going on :p

I’m slithering under his skin and making sweet love to his molecules

On a serious note a lot of making out, touching his butt, and probably dragging him out to get food cause I AM greedy 24/7‼️

[520-xlic]

⦻

GODDDD just imagine play fighting with Toby, and he accidentally pushed you too hard. So he lets you get on top of him and let you be rough with him back while laying on the floor.

And he just looks at you with a small smile in the middle of you pulling his hair. THAT SMUG GRIN.

Then he acts all coy as if he wasn't into this. So you tested him. You began tugging his hair. He obviously can't feel the pain from it, but he can feel the pressure, and a whimper escapes his lips. HES EMBARRASSED NOW AND UGH THOSE PUPPY EYES

(cut to him whimpering and whining under your legs, desperately bucking his hips up, but you toyed with him. Eyes filled with tears from frustration)

[520-xlic]

THE CREEPS' WEIRD HABITS

this headcannon packet includes: Jeff the killer, Ticci Toby, Masky, Hoodie, Kate the Chaser, Eyeless Jack, Jane the Killer, Nina the Killer, Clockwork, BEN Drowned, and Laughing Jack

JEFFREY “THE KILLER” WOODS

You know that cartoony thing where the character sees a nice meal and licks their lips? 

Well, Jeff does that– except there's no food in front of him— and his tongue extends from the very end of his slit to the other side. 

He wouldn't even be looking at anything, oftentimes he'd just stand there, zone out, and lick his “lips” from one corner to another. From afar, he'd look like he's salivating at literal concrete but really he's just in his own world

Whenever he's staring at you– or any other creep for absolutely no buttfuck reason, he grins and wiggles what used to be where his eye brows were. You don't know why he does it– nor anyone else in the mansion, but you do know one thing: he's weirdly good at it. 

Like, at wiggling his eyebrows. Someone has definitely tried to see what it would look like if he STILL had eyebrows– but heaven knows it would just look way worse. 

Leaves notes on the other creeps’ doors, and they are so fucking unsettling you'd think you owe something astronomical to him. 

“Sniffed your hair last night. New shampoo? – J”

“You twitch in your sleep. – J”

“I liked the way you ate today. – J”

Always in yellow post-its smeared with red ink in big, bold, capital letters. And if he catches you reading them, he might just grin and wait for you to tell him something. Ignore him and he'll just… follow you. 

He collects such inconvenient knives. Think over produced ripoffs of real brands shipped from Aliexpress. Masky physically regurgitates at the sight of it. 

Know that hilarious audio from tiktok that goes like “go to sleeeeep go to sleeeeeep go sleep little babbyyyy”? 

He reverberates that in the halls now. Everybody is pissed at him. 

TOBIAS “TICCI TOBY” ERIN ROGERS

Every time he puts his converse shoes on, he always– always marches into them before walking. Exactly two times each foot. It gives him a feeling of “sureness” and preparedness, even if it's just strolling around the woods. 

Speaking of the woods, he encounters birds a lot. Whenever they chirp, he chirps. This ends up in a back and forth conversation of Toby and the bird a flurry of “chirps” and this ticks off whoever he is with because of it triggering his tics. 

“Chirp!”

“*hic* chirp.”

“Chirp!”

“*hic* chirp.”

Has names for his hatchets. Yes, one is named after Natalie. He doesn't move on from exes and that's undoubtedly a toxic trait of his. The two are called “Natty” and “Harry”. He claims that talking to Natty is for when he needs love advice (delusions), and Harry is for when he needs to rant about work. 

“Introduces” them to his victims purely for the fun of it. He wants to see how rattled and weirded out they are before he lodges Harry right into their head. Oof. 

Makes faces at Masky and Hoodie whenever they piss him off. When one of them is scolding him, he remains poker-faced and doesn't say anything, but the moment they turn around, he raises his middle finger and sticks a tongue out. 

TIMOTHY “MASKY” WRIGHT

You know how dads aggressively “pet” dogs by just slapping their side and leaving? Yeah. 

“*pat pat pat pat pat* *groans* Hey there buddy.”

Often does this with stray dogs he might find while on a chill mission or behind diners. Might feed it a chicken bone and say “Yup. Good boy.” (It's a female dog.) 

Once did this with smile dog and nearly got his soul taken from him when it actually spoke. Smile actually didn't mind one bit, just startled is all. Nonetheless, the two actually bonded in a very, very silent friendship. 

He does the “dad pose” whenever he calls Hoodie over for help with his truck. Stands behind Hoodie, legs spread and arms crossed watching intently like it's a college lecture. No idea why he does it, it's a switch in his brain that flips when he's intrigued. 

You know he's up when you hear obnoxious, hoarse and popping coughs reverberating in the hallway. Hoodie personally uses it as an alarm clock and gets up the same time Masky does. 

BRIAN “HOODIE” THOMAS

Pretentious motherfucker.

Whenever he works out and curls his biceps with heavy weights, he grunts and exhales so loudly knowing a lot of other creeps physically turn to look at him while he's doing his sets. Even bites his lip in “concentration” but almost everybody knows he's just doing it for attention. 

Clicks his tongue at every possible animal he sees that he isn't assigned to kill. Gets personally offended when they don't come to him immediately. 

Grins almost every possible hour of the day. Only time when he's not? Sleeping, or when something goes horribly wrong in a mission. Gets asked by Masky on why he does it, while he just shrugs and continues to. 

Does accents and impressions whenever he knows the next line a character says in a movie they're watching. And he's damn good at it. 

Flexes his muscles every time he knows a girl is watching him shirtless??? He won't even be into the girl either– it's just a reflex he's learned in his high school and college years all before he became a lunatic. 

KATE “THE CHASER” MILENS HAYES

she's so unintentionally funny bro

Every time the proxies ask about her coordinates and her state, she instinctively just grunts. No words, no explanation, just… that. 

“Kate, what's your status?”

“Ourgh.”

“Okay.”

It's not like she does it on full purpose, it's just that she's been under slenderman's control for long periods of time in multiple days that she often forgets how to actually use words. 

She does apologize after though and gives what is needed right away. 

“Shit, sorry— I meant I already eliminated the target. We're good now.”

Every time she's caught off guard– maybe a victim escapes or something blows up, she barks. Like, full on bark. 

*old chandelier crashes in victims home*

“Raughr! — I mean– watch out.”

Speaks so incoherently when she's angry or tired. 

“You doing okay, Kate?”

“Rhsiajhskkakhsbakks”

“Sorry to hear.”

Will spend an eternity deciding what she would like to eat inside a diner only to choose steak over and over again. 

REFUSES to eat with utensils– claims she'll just “wash it off later” she just rubs her grimy fingers into her poor mess of a hoodie. 

Is one of the people who accidentally punches a concrete wall in their room and hides her stuff in it. She crashed out in her room one day, saw the hole in her wall, and thought “this would be a nice safe.”

Keeps money, an emergency flashlight, chips, and whatever keychains she manages to fit in there. 

Unironically sniffs people to know where they've been. Slenderman has basically turned her into a rabid animal under his control, so in return her sight, smell, and hearing has heightened. 

Does this to Toby. Then proceeds to scold him when she senses he's been to where he wasn't supposed to. 

JACK “EYELESS JACK” NYRAS

Whips his tail so dramatically when he turns around to leave a room. If you point it out, he'll say “However do you mean?” then proceed to whip his tail even harder when he exits. 

Subconsciously rubs his eyebrow piercings whenever he's stressed. And when he's done he smells his fingers to sniff the metal. Nobody knows why– just that all of them are weirded out by it. 

Forgets he used his tail to hold something he needed then spent an hour looking for that something before catching a glint of it in his peripheral vision. 

Purrs instead of snoring. For a seven foot demon you'd expect him to snore like a broken truck, but when you actually hear him… 

“Prrrrrt… … prrrrrt… .. Prrrrr.. Mmm.”

Swirls his wine for an uncomfortable amount of time before actually taking a sip of it. 

Audibly sighs when he sees somebody drink Mountain Dew. Mentally rolls his eyes when they eat gummy worms. 

Taps his claws on wooden tables, leaving annoying little scratches Masky has to fill up with wood filler again and again. 

LOVES electric fans. Has a huge standing one that is almost as tall as him. Jeff once found him crouched down, jaws open in front of the damn thing and got so weirded out he left without Jack knowing. 

JANE “THE KILLER” EVERLASTING

Uses staples as earrings?? It doesn't get infected, thankfully. 

Sits very, very still for hours. Doesn't get bored. Doesn't get fatigued. Just… there. 

Scratches her “head” even though it's a part of her latex mask. She doesn't even feel herself scratching. (She's bald underneath) 

Hums flatly whenever a fly starts to circle around her. It surprisingly doesn't annoy her. 

*buzz buzz buzz*

“Hmmm.”

Doesn't eat grapes. She slips it under his mask, and slurps. Nobody can see her do this in plain sight, but the sound she makes can give it away. 

Raises her arms off her sides and sways them– almost wiggling whenever she knows she's alone in the forest. It kinda creeps Hoodie out. 

Flaps her bed sheets like five times before finally stretching it on her bed. 

NATALIE “CLOCKWORK” OULETTE

Legit sticks her fingers inside sockets whenever her phone isn't charging. 

Makes random sounds after yawning. 

“ Yawwwn… arararaghh.”

Instead of tapping her chin when thinking, her finger finds her way up to her clock-eye and taps that instead. Scratches it when zoned out. Draws shapes on it if she's bored. 

Can spend hours manually picking out the dandruff in her hair. 

If her clock gets especially loud in quiet moments she tends to tilt her head left and right in accordance with the speed of the ticking. 

NINA “THE KILLER” HOPKINS

Does the frog blink every time Masky tries to explain something to her. 

Separates her highlights from her regular hair and lay them on one side of her scalp just to brush it all back in

Drags her platform boots over the forest floor just because. 

Does that thing where she sucks in her cheeks and makes kissing sounds with her lips puckered whenever she sees a squirrel. 

Talks with her knife. She'll be swaying that thing around while talking about her deepest most inner emotions while you're just leaning back trying not to get nicked. 

Blinks like a thousand times per second after she does her mascara. Says it “helps to dry them faster”.

BEN DROWNED 

one of the people who sleeps on cabinets. He's mostly ghost and dead, so cramps and carpal tunnel don't exist to him. 

The guy doesn't even need sleep. He just does that for fun. You might be looking for pliers to detach some wires but all you see is him, with the most shit eating grin ever, curled up to his knees and handing you over what you need. 

“Hey there.”

“What the fuck man.”

Barely takes naps (because again, he doesn't need it), but when he makes out on weed and does hit the hay, he's in the weirdest position ever. 

You don't even know how his body contorts that way. Or why he's dead silent while doing it. Think gumball from tawog.

His ears flutter when he sneezes. He doesn't feel it, actually, but has endured humiliating comments Jeff has made. 

Raises his eyebrows a lot. Doesn't matter if he's happy, upset, curious, surprised, or tempted. 

(This is kinda gross) uses his hat as a handkerchief. Blows his snot on it, wipes his mouth with it, dabs up his sweat with it… at the same time, he refuses to wash it at all. Says it “has my mojo on it, dude.”

Buys shoes one size bigger for some reason. Then spends most of his time tripping over himself for it.

LAUGHING JACK

Blows bubbles into his milkshakes when he's bored as fuck. Hums at the bubbles like it's the most precious thing discovered. 

Always, always eats his fruits covered in sugar. 

Very bad with money. Once he finds a stack of cash just enough to actually support him for a full month— he goes ahead and blows it on weird imported candy. 

Laughs to himself for no reason. Eyes wide and full on smiling too. 

Twirls his dry ass hair when he's thinking. 

Picks off bugs from his pants and eats them. Treats grasshoppers like a delicacy. 

Does that thing where he gives a high five to the very top of the door— then proceeds to bump his head while exiting. 

Eats somebody's stashed treats, and when that certain somebody discovers ir, Jack would be in the corner, eyes blown and smile wide, making a “sluuuurp!” sound with his tongue like he wanted to be caught. 

Ends up with multiple bruises from Kate after he ate her cheddar flavored Ruffles.

[520-xlic]

toby with an insecure!s/o who feels like they need to starve themselves to be pretty? :p

totally not projecting rn

the only angst scenario i could think of i fear 😞🙏

- anon 🌷

⦻

Author notes ; i hope you feel better soon, anon! I know what it feels like to go through that :( take care of yourself <3

Toby doesn't notice it at first glance. Maybe he does nudge you at times whenever you stare at your plate for too long without eating. Or the way you'd check yourself out in front of every mirror you pass by for a prolonged period of time. But you can see in the way his eyes are a mix of confusion and concern.

What makes him realize what you are doing was by him coming into your room to check up on you since you've been cooped up all day. He goes in quietly and doesn't see you in bed. Weird, he says to himself in his head before glancing over to the bathroom where he sees that the light is on underneath the door. He sighs softly before trudging his way over, opening the door without a second thought.

Then he saw you. Lifting up your shirt to see what stomach fat you had, but he could see the incoming rib lines and the weight loss. You quickly put your shirt down and looked at him like a deer in headlights.

"Toby, what- what're you doing in here?" You said, shocked and hoping he didn't catch a glimpse of what you were doing. But he did, and you both knew that.

He felt his heart shattering into two while walking up, putting his rough palms on your cheeks to get your attention—but to also make sure you were safe from danger that wasn't present. But maybe it was the danger that you were putting your body in that he wanted to protect you from. You can see it in his eyes, the protective gaze.

"Wh-why are you doing this? Why couldn't you at least talk to me first?" Toby kept on asking you questions until he eventually went silent, thinking he asked too much or if he was insensitive. In reality, he loved you so much that it hurt his soul just to even bear the thought of you starving yourself.

He didn't say another word when you didn't speak after he stopped bombarding you with question after question. He gently laid you in your bed with him, pulling the covers over the both of you up to your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest while you both laid on your sides.

Toby spoke to you while looking you in the eye, jerking his fingers at times while touching your skin. He wanted to understand why you were doing this to yourself, but when you finally mumbled a response, he went quiet again. Then he held you painfully tight to his body while kissing every inch of skin you had on your face.

Now he was more aware, more or less like a mother hen, but he meant well. He prepared meals for you—small ones just so he could try to coax you back into healthy eating habits again. He praises you every night before you go to bed just so he knows you would feel enough, and the nights that Toby's not able to, he sends a text or calls you if he's on a mission.

[520-xlic]

can I request literally whatever with Ticci Toby? pref romantic and fluffy but it's up to you!!

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary : what it's like to date ticci toby.

tags : profanity, mentions of killing, blood, violence, and romance.

note : the big '25 and your girl still likes creepypasta. I TRIED, I PROMISE !

— no sense of personal space.

— he doesn't—usually—intentionally invade your bubble, he just likes being close to you. it's hard to go somewhere without him trailing behind you, and if you ask him to leave, he'll look at you like you just kicked a puppy in front of him.

— very dramatic, by the way.

"toby, can you leave for a moment?" "why?" his question was asked with genuine curiosity while he stared at you blankly, and you blinked at him a few times. "because i'm trying to wrap up the gift i got you?" "just say you ha-hate me." "toby, no—"

— he's obsessed with you, and if you ever deny it, everyone around the mansion is going to look at you like you're the craziest person there.

— even ben agrees that toby is obsessed with you, and he's barely even around anyone since he's always in his room.

— you're literally his world, and he would do anything for you. if you asked him to jump off a cliff, he would do it without hesitation.

— it's not like he would feel the impact, anyways.

— speaking of that, dating toby would include you having a heart attack every time he comes back from a mission.

— since toby is numb to pain, he doesn't know when he gets injured or not. even when he does notice his wounds, he just shrugs them off. he's literally watched someone stab him in his stomach, and he just blinked at them before killing them with his hatchet.

— he kept that knife, by the way. when he returned from his mission, he showed it off like some prize while revealing his—horribly done—stitches.

— so, when he comes back from missions, you're usually the one to patch him up. he'd be like a fussy toddler the whole time, though.

"can you lift up your arm?" "i'm fine." you winced as his neck cracked, and he lifted up his free hand to rub the back of his neck. despite his statement, he still lifted up his arm. the gash he had gotten went in a horizontal line from his spine to his ribs, and you frowned at the sight before grabbing some gauze. "how did this happen?" the man shrugged, and you hastily placed a hand on his shoulder as you sighed. "try not to move a whole lot, please. i don't want the wound to open up more." "it's just a paper-papercut—" "i can almost see one of your ribs, toby." "really?" you watched as toby leaned his head down a bit as he attempted to eye into the cut, and you placed a large gauze pad against his side before grasping his free hand. you placed his hand against the gauze before pushing down firmly. "hold that for me so i can get your back..." "but i'm fi-fine! this is taking too long—" "toby." at your firm tone, he frowned at you as he let out a huff. his hand remained pressed against the gauze while you moved over to his back, and you both remained in silence as you started to clean up his wound.

— you also have to constantly remind him to put on chapstick. when you first met him, his lips would always be chapped given how he constantly chewed on them and licked them, so now you make sure he always has chapstick on him.

— which he just licks off when you turn your back, or he attempts to bite the chapstick itself.

— also, when it comes to kissing toby, just know that he's very passionate about it. he will literally kiss you like he's leaving for war and is never coming back, but in reality, you're just getting up to get a snack.

— cuddling with him would be a bit difficult since he's constantly shifting and jolting, but you'd get used to it.

— after missions, he would probably pounce on you while he was still covered in blood. he'd smell horrible, but he doesn't care; he missed you too much to care.

— this is fairly random, but do not let him cook or bake with you. you're going to ask if the water is done boiling, and he's sticking his hand right in there. or, if you want to know if the oven is done preheating, his head is going in it.

— but despite the fact you've banned him from helping you in the kitchen, he'd still be behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist while he watches you cook.

— he does it because one, he wants to be close to you, and two, he likes to snatch things like cookies or whatever food you're making over your shoulder before running off.

— a sassy man, by the way.

— you'd ask him a simple question, and he's raising an eyebrow like you're stupid.

— final thing, he's a really jealous person. he constantly has to have a hand on you so everyone knows that you're taken.

— and if someone flirts with you, they're on the news the next day.

[520-xlic]

It's my birthday, can I get Jeff eating reader out in front of the bleeding out victim, or Jeff desperately dry humping us because we put him on a sex ban?

"She's the one I'm running with, she's my collar.."

Jeff the Killer x fem!reader

Author notes ; happy late birthday! I'm so sorry this took so long to write, I've been busy with my personal life

WC; 3.1k

Contains; murder, blood kink, cunninglinus, dry humping, slight dacryphilia, spit, degradation

Blood. Sweat. Adrenaline.

The tangy smell of soon-to-be copper filled your nostrils on instinct of knowing what was about to happen next, the salty taste of your own sweat dripping down your face and past your lips–while making its way into your mouth–as you and Jeff ran after the alleged victim that needed to be eliminated, ordered by Slenderman with no questions.

Usually, there would be no problems between you and Jeff during missions. You were both quick and efficient, and he was dense at some points, but you pushed past it just to get the job done.

The man's house was located in the small part of town, accused of trying to piece together the evidence of Slenderman's proxies being responsible for the mass murders. But he booked it as soon as you and Jeff both broke into his house, as if he was already paranoid enough to think that someone was watching him.

Ragged breaths made it past both your nose and mouth as you jumped on top of the middle-aged man, pinning him down successfully with a knife plunging into his right shoulder blade. The disgusting sounds of flesh being torn into by the blade was audible, as well as his screams that were shortly cut off due to your partner scraping his own knife into the victim. The velvet thick liquid seeped into everything—the dry forest leaves beneath the fresh corpse, onto your hands, and into the man's ripped t-shirt. Not to mention, it's also splattered across your face and into your own clothes.

You groaned with annoyance, taking in the thought of trying to scrub the blood off of your clothes. You get onto your feet again, using your knees to get up and look over the body with Jeff. You could faintly hear the man gurgling on his own blood and spit, making you slightly cringe even if you're used to the gruesomeness that came to being Slenderman's proxy.

Jeff lets out a low whistle before speaking, “I'm not cleaning up your mess.” He says with a slight smirk, looking over at you with his face relaxed with a smug grin planted across his scarred face, blood coating his own face and infamous white hoodie.

His dark eyes follow your movements as you walk up to him, half expecting you to complain about him being ‘too incompetent to work with.’ And his prediction was right. While you bickered to him about him being an annoying prick with irritation in your body movements, he only looked back at you with a different type of heat. Jeff really looked at you this time, his eyes going from the blood on yourself to the way you had your hands on your hips, mind starting to wander off in the lewd parts of his head. What you were saying to him was white noise at this point, muffled in his ears as he subconsciously checked you out.

You were too busy dragging on about how he was so insufferable and—wait.. was he.. checking you out? At a time like this? With someone literally fucking dying out slowly infront of both of you? Your talking slowly died down and you stared at him until he got the hint that you weren't speaking anymore. You never fully saw Jeff that way, usually seeing him as the cocky asshole who doesn't know when to stop.

But you couldn't lie—Jeff looked hot when he killed, the fire and determination in his eyes when he's focused on anything riled you up more than you'd want to admit. Even after missions when it was just you two out in the main room of the old and near-crumbling mansion, he would find some way to look you over. I mean, you did notice whenever his hands lingered on your hips for a second longer whenever he had to pass by you, or the times he'd gruffly praise you under his breath with a half assed “good job.”

A few seconds later, his eyes went up to yours, a gaze that could be recognized as lusting and hunger. It confused you for a few seconds until it clicked in your head—he was definitely undressing you with his eyes. You chuckled, crossing your arms under your chest just to tease him. You looked back at him with your own hungry eyes, almost sizing him up.

“What? See something you want?” You said with a smirk, leaning on one foot to another.

The man down beneath some of the leaves continued to gurgle on his own blood, making you a little uneasy, but it only made Jeff want you more. He ignored him, walking up to you with steady and heavy footsteps, crunching being audible under his boots that made him a little taller than he led on.

“Yknow.. you look really fuckin’ hot like this,” He stated gruffly, standing over you with his somewhat muscular frame with a wild grin. “I'm sure you've been wanting me for a while. I've seen the way you look at me.” He spoke with confidence, as if everything he was saying was stated by proof.

Jeff thought he was obvious about his little crush on you, but apparently, you were oblivious—or he had absolutely no idea how to show his feelings. Either way, the tension was out in the open cold air now. Nobody could deny it.

“What?” Is all you said out loud, making you internally face-palm yourself.

The sound of crunching leaves were heard again when Jeff shifted his weight, a devious chuckle leaving his chapped lips. “I know you heard me the first time I said it.”

A pair of rough hands grabbed your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your hoodie while he pulled your clothed pelvis against his. You expected this type of flirty behavior with him. It's so obvious. Yet, it still catches you off guard when he does go through with it every single time… but it feels different? The way his dark eyes bore into yours with the same type of flirtatious lust he's had before with you, but it was a need. Not a want.

“Cmon.. humor me. Do you really want me or not?” Jeff says smugly, his dull nails scraping across the flesh of your covered waist.

The butterflies in your stomach felt like it was making its way up your throat and down to your core, and you blurted out of the heat of the moment, “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

Unable to process what was about to happen next, his lips smashed into yours, teeth clashing, and tongues swirling. Your fingers found his way to his somewhat tangled black hair, as if you were trying to hold onto this moment. His own hands continued to grasp your waist and hips, but it was short lived when he decided to kiss down your neck, then even lower with hasted open-mouthed kisses.

A low gasp escaped your lips when he got onto his knees, his teeth biting the edge of the waistband of your jeans. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked up at you, a terrifying gaze.

“Get these off now,” He commanded. “Before I rip them off myself.” As he pressed the tip of his knife against the fabric of your jeans, just near your crotch with the metal glinting back at you in the moonlight.

As much as you wanted to be a brat, you sure as hell didn't want your favorite pair of jeans to be even more ruined. So, you unzipped and shrugged your pants down just a little below your knees. You were half bare now, the summer breeze grazing against your skin, goosebumps rising from anticipation.

Jeff actually couldn't believe he got you in this position under all this confidence he was showing. He's had his eyes on you for a while, gritting his teeth if he saw you talking to Toby or Masky for too long, snapping at them later just for looking at you. Countless nights he would fantasize about the different possibilities and positions to put you in, having you in a headlock as he hit you from behind, how you'd gasp and moan… resulting in him getting a hard-on that he'd have to rub out.

But this was the now, the present. He had you exactly how he expected it to be, except for the fact that there was a dead man behind you, still bleeding out slowly. He scoffed and went on with it anyway because who could pass up an opportunity like this?

You groaned as the rough pads of Jeff's fingers dig into your thighs, the tip of his tongue just grazing the slit of your cunt before pushing the wet muscle all the way into your warm heat. You bit your lip, grabbing onto his hair again to keep him there, just trying to get used to the foreign feeling—but you also knew it was to keep Jeff from just going all out immediately.

He looked up at you with half lidded eyes again, as if he was testing you. Then, he began moving his tongue around your folds, trying to pull a noise from you, and you moaned. He chuckled against your wetness before sucking on your clit. You had no idea that Jeff, the guy who always claimed to “have bitches that want him”, is actually experienced. Hell, he might've been the best guy that you ever got head from.

Jeff kept eye contact with you as he ate you out fiercely, making you squirm with embarrassment while pressing your back against a nearby tree for support. He used this to his advantage, gripping your hips harsher and basically made out with your wet core.

When he felt your tight ring gush around his tongue, he moaned into you and made the most obscene wet and slurping sounds to flaunt off how amazing he was at eating pussy.

“You're so good, mmph..” You murmured, holding his head still.

Thoughts ran through his head, replaying the times you'd talk to the other males of the mansion, how you laughed and lightly flirted with them made his blood boil all over again—resulting in him almost biting your clit from how hard he was sucking.

Your mouth was open the whole time from making sounds of pleasures, whimpers flying out of your mouth at rapid speed. But when Jeff began pumping a finger into your dripping hole? Your moans increased in pitch, one hand grabbing onto the bark behind you and the other still in his hair as you grinded your hips closer to his mouth. He took a moment to breathe, his lips having a string of saliva connected to your folds. Pants left his mouth before going back to licking your clit harshly, trying to claw the orgasm out from your body.

You could feel the inside of your stomach getting hotter and tighter, letting out harsh breaths into the cool night air. The dead man behind you was long forgotten, your undivided attention on the way Jeff was making you damn near seeing god. But as soon as his nose brushed against the bundle of nerves while looking up at you again, your release immediately followed. You let out a silent scream, back arching against the trunk of the tree with your thighs trembling against the sides of his head.

It fell silent shortly after, just you two catching your breaths, then you tugged Jeff's hair a little to get his attention. “We still gotta get rid of that guy.” You said with a slight rasp.

Jeff got back up and grumbled, wiping off the excess slick and slobber from his chin with the back of his hand. It took nearly 25 minutes of labor to just drag the man, getting rid of the blood, then lighting him on fire some place else before driving off in Masky's truck that Jeff stole for the night.

With the windows rolled down and a soft rock song playing in the background on the back speakers, your hair flew in the wind, which ultimately cooled you down. It was peaceful, the orgasm from earlier helping you calm your nerves from the recent stress of missions. Jeff hummed quietly to the song, his fingertips tapping against the steering wheel, some of the old leather pieces flapping from the wind as well. Nobody spoke a word since there was no need to—no complaining, no petty arguments, just actual peace that makes you almost forget that you're a killer.

Gravel grumbled under the used tires when Jeff parked the truck somewhere hidden, a walking distance from the mansion. You hopped out of the car, shutting the creaky door behind you, and made your way through the trees. You yearned for a hot shower, just to feel less dirty after killing a man. It was quiet again, just the sounds of rocks being kicked by Jeff on your left with crickets and cicadas ringing all around you.

But there was still this tension that you couldn't place your finger on.

As soon as you both got inside the old mansion, Jeff's hands were on you again. You yelped as he dragged you to his room while stumbling. Jeff doesn't wait—he wants, he takes. Like a dog being deprived of the flesh of another animal after being starved for so long. Your back hit his door, being too impatient to get you properly in his room, but what caught your attention was the tent popping against your thigh. He groaned, desperately rubbing himself against you.

“Fuck… it's so hard to come across something to take my frustrations out. But that's why you're here, right? That's why you act so stupid when you know that I want you, just so you can tease me.” He growled, biting your neck as his hips pounded into yours while still being clothed.

You whimpered against the palm of your hand so the other proxies wouldn't be able to hear you as you felt the sting of his sharp canines digging into the space of skin between your shoulder and neck over and over again, sucking at the skin to leave dark purple and irritated red bruises behind. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the heat runs through your body just like how it did earlier. Your other hand grabbed onto his dirtied hoodie, your hand dragging across his back then to his collar, anchoring him onto you. He huffed into your skin, marking you up so he could flaunt it off to the others.

His hands were on your hips, holding you in place, but then hooked your legs around his waist so he could get more access to your crotch. All you had to do was take it while praying that everyone else was asleep or occupied with a task so nobody could interrupt and avoid the embarrassment.

Jeff's hips worked relentlessly against yours so much to the point that his door opened from the pressure, making you fall on your back against his bedroom floor. He still didn't let up as you felt your back become sore already—but instead worked more swiftly. His eyes stared down into yours, pinning your body down to the hardwood floor, a wicked grin slowly working its way up his face. He licked the blood and salty tears from your cheek, moaning deeply before licking the other side. You cringed slightly, your face covered in his spit from both sides.

His thumb pried your bottom lip, opening up your mouth before spitting into your mouth, letting you taste the blood for yourself. You dismissively swallowed, earning a chuckle from Jeff.

“You're too easy. I bet you're as easy for the other guys, huh? Bet they never made you feel this good.” He said, jealousy evident in his voice. “Fuckin’ slut.”

You moaned back, “S-shut up!” You whined. He smirked and slapped your ass, drilling his clothed dick against your crotch.

His hips stuttered after going at the same pace for a few more moments, groaning loudly, still trying to ground his hips into yours as if he wanted to meld your hips together. You can slightly make out the dark spot growing on the front of his jeans in the dim lighting of the hallway.

It was as quiet as it was an hour ago when he finished eating you out, just panting being heard. He scoffed and got up, leaving you on the floor, and went to his bed, not caring to take off his stained clothes or shoes. You got up slowly, annoyed at how he left you. Hell, he didn't even let you get the chance to make you finish again! You couldn't believe the decency he had to just get up and act like you weren't even there. Before you could even get a word out, he cut you off.

“Alright, we're both satisfied. Now get out of my fuckin’ room.” He said against his pillows.

You blinked a few times from the surprise of him speaking to you like that, but begrudgingly left, making sure to slam his door on the way out just to be petty. As you laid in your bed after a refreshing shower, you stared at your ceiling and looked back at all that was happening. Not even what Jeff did to you, but instead of what he said—was he jealous of the other guys in the mansion? And you were too oblivious to see it?

The next morning, you felt eyes on you from the other residents in the mansion as you were just trying to get a cup of steaming hot coffee. Some light-hearted chatterness from BEN was heard, but you didn't miss a beat of the murmurs that came after or during it. You scoffed under your breath while pouring some creamer into your mug. But of course, the inevitable came.

“So, where'd you get those hickeys? Did Jeff go too rough on you?” BEN teased, hearing him snicker behind you.

Embarrassment was written all over your face when you turned back to snap at him, but Jeff was already on it. He got him in a headlock and dragged him off, maybe to go mess with him back or just to shut him up. Either way, the annoying noise of him talking was finally gone, and you could at least bear the others talking.

Missions were still unbearable whenever you're paired with him since he loved to be a dick about cleaning up after the lifeless corpses, still the same Jeff that loved to get under your skin for the littlest reasons.

But at least he'll make it up to you now, one way or another.

[520-xlic]

okay so. this was not supposed to turn into a full on series of wtv but y’all ate the first two parts up like dessert SO here’s some more

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Clouded By The Smoke [Pt.3]

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

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Part One

Part Two

Playlist!

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WC: 9.5k

Summary: Loving Toby seems more and more like a bottomless pit every single day. You wonder if the glimpses of joy he gives you are worth the pain of the in between. He wonders if the warmth of your affection is worth watching you fall apart.

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content,, recreational drug use, drugs other than weed, dealer!toby, addiction, toxic relationships, codependency, ‘i can fix him’, but like, can you?, extremely toxic behaviour on Toby’s part, he’s a wee bit mean, but it’s bc he’s coping, unsafe sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, spit and drool, sloppy makeouts, emotional manipulation, angsty angst, two characters going through a horrible time together, he wants to be better though, redemption <3

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

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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You’re not quite sure what you had expected to happen after that confession on the porch.

An overnight change? A complete upheaval of who you knew Toby to be, in favour of something better? You knew it was naive to think that a few simple words would be the catalyst for an immediate rewrite of his character, but with how sincere he had sounded… It had been easy to hope.

It, of course, was never that you didn’t like who Toby was - you did, that’s why you had fallen for him in the first place. It was just that the longer you stayed by his side, the more the cracks had started to show. The constant bags under his eyes. The tremors he’d get if he didn’t get his fix right when he wanted it. The lack of care for himself. Skipping out on proper meals if it meant he could shove a few more pills in his pocket, or pack a few more bowls for the two of you to share.

Toby moved through life like a ghost. Sometimes, you’d catch him off guard when he didn’t know you were watching him. Curled in his sheets as he sat at his desk just staring at the wall straight ahead of him. There was always a wrinkle in his brow and tension in his jaw, his hands clasped together in his lap in attempts to contain the tremble in his joints. He always smoothed it all out the moment he caught your eye.

‘J-Just thinking.’ He’d say. Always ‘just thinking’.

About what? He’d never tell you. Even though you thought you had started to make progress with him.

It was disheartening. Discouraging, knowing that it was so easy for him to just fall back into the habits he knew best. Not eager for change. Not eager for anything that wasn’t just a differently packaged way to turn his brain off.

You were eager. Eager for something more - something better - with him, but evidently not as much as you should be, because you just let him continue on. Never berated him. Never tried to steer him away from the course he had set himself on. Never pushed him when he went back to responding to your ‘I love you’s with a soft hum and nothing more.

None of that stopped you from staying. From crawling back under the sheets with him.

The idea though, stayed like an itch you just couldn’t scratch.

And one night, finding yourself where you always do, with his skin bare against yours and his hair tickling your neck - you decide to pick at it.

“Would you ever… You know.. Stop?” It’s a question that’s been weighing on your tongue for a while now, one that you’ve never asked because you’re already pretty sure you know the answer to it. But, there's that hope. That little flame of something brewing inside you that maybe - just maybe - there's an ounce of him that would want to try.

And the prospect of learning who he could be without it all? It was something you cling onto. Toby was someone you had always thought had so much potential. Potential that he smothered and snuffed out with chemicals upon chemicals and the flick of his lighter. There was someone in there, someone so profound and creative. Someone that you only ever got the tiniest glimpses of in the earliest hours of the morning.

It was someone you wanted to know better.

“Stop?” Toby asks, raising an eyebrow as he pulls his face out of the crook of your neck. “Stop wh-what? Dealing?”

“Everything.” Your voice comes as a breath against his shoulder, eyes closed as you finally pull back and lay your head back against his pillow - hair fanning out against the pillowcase. You can still feel your skin buzzing, your veins pulsing with the heady concoction of whatever had slipped off of his tongue, and onto yours just hours before. “Dealing, doing it, hanging out with people who also do.” Eyelids flutter open, and your eyes meet his - half-lidded and hazy. You’re not quite sure if you’ve ever seen him any other way. “You’ll get tired of it all one day, don’t you think?”

Toby lets out a soft sigh, his shoulders tensing as his head drops forwards to hang low. His entire body sagging like the very idea of what you’ve just presented to him is a weight. It should be something to work towards. Should be the end goal. To him, it seems like some sort of damnation.

“I…” A breath, a twitch of his neck. “I don’t th-think so.” He answers back softly, his voice smoke-roughened and raspy. Qualities you used to adore, now they just settle heavy on your chest. “If I… I-If I could explain it to you proper, I w-would, but I just.. I don’t think you’d g-get it.” His eyes flick away from yours. “This… All of this- It’s j-just who I am, you know? Can’t-Can’t really see myself living any other way.” You can feel the tension leech into his muscles, watch his jaw let into a hard line before a shaky exhale leaves him through his nostrils. “It’s… It’s the only th-thing that makes me feel human.”

Those words hit heavy, making it oh so clear to you that this wasn’t just something he could kick if you asked him to on a whim. It was his crutch. Something that he relied on to keep him moving and ticking.

You can’t help but wonder; is it that he doesn’t want to get better, or is it that he can’t?

“Surely that can’t be true.” You hum back to him - the sentiment more wishful thinking than anything else. You hoped that there was something else Toby had to cling onto, something that wouldn’t rot him from the core.

“I w-wish it wasn’t.” Toby mutters back to you, his eyes flickering back to yours before he purses his lips and reaches down. His hand curls around your wrist, gentle but shaky, pulling your arm upwards until your hand rested over his heart. It was racing beneath his warm, sweat slick skin - to a degree that made your eyes widen a little. Worrying, definitely, and yet Toby looked calm as he ever did. “I’ve t-told you before, I can’t… Feel things.” He mutters. “It’s like every nerve in my body is-is just dead.” His fingers curl around your hand, pressing your fingers into his skin - your nails digging into the muscles beneath with a force you know must sting. But, he doesn’t even flinch. Never has. “And it’s weird, just being n-numb all the time. Feels like… I’m a zombie or some sh-shit.”

Toby’s trembling, and you can feel it. His skin clammy and warm, his breathing shaky every time he exhales. He’s a mess, barely held together at the seams - and you’re really noticing it now. He’s so casual about everything that he does, always acting like it’s just his way of life, something he has ultimate control over. He’s always the one picking you up, not the other way around, but right now - it feels like he’s one wrong move away from falling apart. “Doing all this shit, it-it kind of… Fills in the gaps. If I get h-high enough, I can almost imagine what being… normal, feels like.”

His grip on your hand tightens, your nails dig in deeper - pressing crescent shaped indents into his chest, like he’s trying to get you to claw straight through and into his rib cage. “I can almost…” He swallows thickly. “A-Almost feel it.”

“But you can feel the good things, right?” You ask softly, the frown on your lips deepening. “Would it not be a good thing, to not have to feel pain?”

“That’s what everyone says.” Toby lets out a mirthless laugh, and you can just tell he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Life i-is about balance. Can’t really appreciate the g-good things if there’s nothing bad to compare them to.”

“But for you that’s just physically.” You argue softly. “It’s not like you’re numb from the inside out-“

“Startin’ to f-feel like it.” Toby scoffs, before letting out a breath and dropping your hand suddenly. It falls to your lap. “Like I’m r-rotting.”

“Well.” You let out a soft breath. “With all the shit you do, you probably are.”

It’s bitter. It’s mean, but - it’s the truth. Toby had been fun when you had first met him. He was carefree, consequence-free, sporadic in a way that kept you constantly entertained. His hedonistic way of thinking was something that you used to envy, how he always just did what he wanted regardless of how it looked from other people’s point of view.

Maybe it was all the drugs he gave you that made him seem so faultless.

Maybe it was your affection for him that blinded you from his misgivings.

You weren’t quite sure what the plan had been when you had first thrown yourself into Toby’s world - float along? Assimilate into him? Become a shell of who you believed you’d grow up to be?

In reality, you had never thought that deep into it at all. He was cute, and fun. Simple as that. If only you knew how dangerous that combination could be when wielded by the wrong hands.

“Yeah?” You watch the tension ripple through Toby’s entire body like a wave. His jaw setting into a firm line, shoulders going rigid, his fingers twitching where they rested against his own thighs. When his eyes meet yours, his irises are flickering with the sparks from whatever nerve you had just struck. “I-Is that supposed to make me feel bad?”

You don’t often see Toby get angry, with how mellowed out he prefers to keep himself, but you can always sense it brewing before he ultimately snuffs it all out again. His voice takes on the sharpness of a blade - low and controlled, but holding a tension that rises goosebumps on your arms and forms of lump of regret in your throat.

He only ever held that tone when you said something he couldn’t refute - like a dog backed into a corner, snapping its jaws at anyone who tried to reach a hand out to help.

Toby always shut you down, and shut you up. Shoved a joint, or a few pills into your palm and held your wrist when you brought them to your lips. Content with feeding you poison if it meant you’d never try to unpack his motives.

If you were as smart as you liked to tell yourself you are, you would’ve dragged your feet as far away from him as they could possibly take you. You would’ve spat the pills out right at his feet. But, you didn’t do that. Why? Because when you buried your face into his neck and let his heat leech into yours, when you looked up at him and got to witness the beauty of his eyes softening - you knew that there was something, someone, in there to save.

You just didn’t know you would lose yourself by doing it.

“No.” You murmur back to him, tilting your head to the side. “It’s just the truth.”

“Is it?” Short, snippy, Toby fires right back at you. Defensive in his every move and word. Protecting himself from you, like the prospect of improving was something he couldn’t bear. “Then w-why are you still here?” He leans down, daring your gaze to shift back to his. You don’t take the bait. “Sitting here, a-acting like some- some saving grace. Letting me feed you drugs while p-preaching against that very thing?” He scoffs. “Telling me you want me to get better, b-but you give in every single time. Just lying back a-and watchin’ a dead man rot.”

You can feel his breath against your skin, and you swallow thickly - your breathing going shallow like your lungs are scared one wrong exhale will blow this all out of proportion. “You say you love me? You d-don’t. How can you watch the person you love d-do this if you hate it so much?” Another breath. “You’re complacent. Y-You’re a coward.”

Your eyebrows wrinkle together as you head snaps back to look at him, his words striking you like a physical hit. His gaze is unwavering - steadfast - locked on you like he means every single syllable he’s said. And yet, with the way he’s trembling, you can tell that there’s more to it. There always is, with him.

“As if that’s not the entire reason you liked me in the first place.” You mutter back to him, so close that your breath mingles with his on every exhale. “You need a girl you can keep mindless all the time, otherwise you might have to actually let someone know you.” You tilt your head to the side a bit. “But I’m the coward, sure.”

It’s right about then that it’s made clear to Toby that you actually did the one thing he had been trying to avoid this entire time. You figured him out. He never thought you would, he thought he had been careful, but he seemed to have gravely underestimated who you were. He liked not having to think so deeply into his own actions. He liked that you just went along with every little thing he said. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep things going like this forever, but he had been hoping that it at least wouldn’t end with you trying to search for the answers he kept hidden from you.

He had meant it when he said that he was sure you didn’t love him. You couldn’t. You didn’t know him. Only the person he projected to you.

Some funhouse image of the man he was on the inside. Skewing his vulnerability to look like confidence.

It was easier this way.

It was also easier to push you away before you could dig deep enough to strike gold.

He peels away from you, skin separating from skin like a bandaid being ripped off - leaving behind spots of fading warmth where he had once been. Slipping away further and further until he was sliding off of the edge of the bed, sheets rustling when he stands and adjusts the waistband of his boxers on his hips.

Back to you when he opens his mouth next, probably because he knew your reaction would sting deeper than a backhand slap.

“Yeah, w-well.” He mutters under his breath. “At least I never f-fucked a guy just so he’d get me high.”

It’s supposed to hurt you, it’s supposed to push you away. By proxy, it wounds him too - like a double edged sword. He wanted to keep you around, to change for you, to learn what being better even looked like - but with each passing day it was starting to feel more and more like an impossibility. How do you rid yourself of something that has wrapped itself around your veins? Soaked into your blood? How do you change when you don’t even know who you were before you started tumbling downhill?

How could he accept your love knowing that he would only leave wreckage? That he already has?

He wanted to, more than anything, but he just wasn’t strong enough to weigh his options well. The drugs won out every single time, because feeling numb was safe. It was something he had grown accustomed to. There was nothing to worry about except for when he'd get his next fix.

You didn’t deserve that, always coming second best so some chemical feeling. He had told you that. Had tried to be nice about it. Had even tried to accept it for a little while - the idea of opening up to you - but nothing worked.

You never listened, and he always ended up shutting you back out again by the time the sun rose over the new day.

At this point, what other choice did he have but to hurt you? If you wouldn’t take his kindness, this was the only other route.

You’d crafted some idea of him in your head that was agonizingly far from who he truly was. Some fairytale saviour story, where you find him and twist him into the perfect man.

As much as he'd love to make that a reality for you, he just couldn’t find it in himself to. You needed a wake up call, before you got yourself in too deep to pull yourself out.

(As if you already hadn’t.)

Your mouth gapes open, your eyes widening in shock as the words he spit out at you sink right into your skin and settle heavy in your gut. Not even given the privilege of eye contact, you’re just left staring at his back as his shoulders shake with a heavy sigh. He shakes out his hair out, the knotted strands illuminated by the rays of moonlight streaming in through the window, and then he’s taking a step away. Then another. Forcing distance between the two of you, like he hadn’t just laid you down like a goddess to worship mere moments before.

“What?” You breathe back to him, absolutely exasperated as you sit up properly - pulling the blankets up with you to wrap around your bare skin. The sweat on your skin had begun to cool, and without Toby’s heat to ward off the chills, goosebumps start to raise on your arms. “Did you seriously just say that?”

“D-Don’t make me repeat it.” Toby huffs out, bringing himself over to his desk chair and plopping himself down onto it with a heavy breath. Still not looking at you. Still refusing to though you know he can feel your eyes burning holes into his skin. He’s too tense to pretend he’s completely unbothered. His hands shake too much when he pulls open his desk drawer. “You can lie to yourself a-all you want, but that’s all this has been, right?” A rattle echoes throughout the room when a little bottle of pills slips into his palm. “Free shit, a p-place to crash, dick whenever you want it.” He snorts and shakes his head before popping the cap off of the bottle. “S’not like I c-can blame you. Got too c-comfy. Confused it for love.” He shrugs. “Happens.”

A few pills fall into his palm, then he finally tilts his head to catch your gaze out of the corner of his eye. “You love the person you th-think I could be. But, that person doesn’t exist.” You swallow thickly. “You know that, you j-just don’t want to accept it.”

You watch him roll the two little white pills around in his palm and you’re up in a second, dragging his blankets along with you with a frown so deep it hurt. His words had sobered you in more ways than one, leaving you with an ache in your head and a tightness in your chest. Each breath near hurts, every step feels like a mistake - but he’s right. You push forwards because you’ve convinced yourself there's someone there to latch onto.

You’ve seen him. In the quiet moments. When he’s sober and sleepy right after he’s woken up. When he’s soft and relaxed as he holds you close to his chest. When his eyes light up and the tension in his shoulders loosens. In the latest hours of the night, when his lips spill more than he ever meant to, just for him to take it all back the next day.

You’re not crazy. You know what he’s doing. He’s smothering the part of him that feels, in fear of being hurt. But by doing so, he’s forcing himself into an even worse position.

It’s so backwards it just makes your headache worse.

“Put that shit away.” You snap, reaching out to grasp his wrist before he can tip his palm towards his mouth. “You haven’t even come down from the last dose you took. Do you really need that?”

“With how you’re a-acting?” He wrenches his hand from your grip. “Y-Yeah, I fuckin’ do.”

“How I’m acting?” You snap. “How I’m acting?” You’re not quite sure what spurred it on - the frustration, the anger, the feeling of being so utterly lost - but your wrist flicks, and your hand bats his away. The pills get knocked out of his palm, clattering against the floor and rolling off to be lost in different corners of his room. “You told me! You said you loved me back, and now you’re sitting here trying to take it all back!” You scrub a hand across your face. “Just spewing bullshit because you can’t fathom coming to terms with your own feelings. Grow up!”

“Are you not realizing what situation you p-put yourself in?” He snaps, his eyes flickering to the floor where his pills fell - hands shaking. “You knew w-what type of guy I was, and you kept coming back! I n-never promised you a relationship. I never p-promised you ‘love’. But now you’re acting like you’re entitled t-to it just because I haven’t kicked you out!” A quick once over and he lets out a disgruntled breath, realizing that those pills are definitely lost to the dust bunnies under his desk. “You’re paying for th-those, by the way.”

“Yeah, like hell I am.” You scoff, to which Toby’s eyes narrow.

“Ah, right. Forgot.” He mutters, his tone bitter. “Just gonna s-spread your legs instead?”

“Is that really all you think this is for me?” You ask, your expression wrinkling. “That I’m just sleeping with you as some kind of payment? That’s it?”

“I mean, sh-should we look at your track record?” Toby raises an eyebrow. “You let me fuck you the first d-day I took you home just because I smoked you out.”

“Oh, right, because I’m the one who threw myself at you right?” You snort. “Not you, pawing at me like a dog in heat?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Why can’t you just admit you like me? You’ve already said you love me.”

“L-Lapse of judgement.” Toby mutters softly, leaning back in his chair, the seat creaking under his weight. “What was I supposed to d-do? You wouldn’t let up on that shit.”

It’s getting to the point where fighting feels fruitless. All you’ve ever done with him is fight, and fight, and fight. Try your hardest, put in the effort of two people to try and pull him out of the slump he forced himself into long before you met him. Minuscule progress felt like a gift, the teeniest bit of affection felt like a prize. But with Toby, it’s always one step forwards, two steps back. Progress for a day at a time, before he goes and erases it all.

Pushing you away, and yet you continue to cling. It’s becoming humiliating. You thought you were better than this. Letting yourself stoop so low for a man who would swear he didn’t need you until the day he died.

And so, you give up. It’s been a long time coming.

You let out a breath, close your eyes for a moment, and try to keep a level head - but the words you speak next makes your entire body feel weighted.

“Do you want me to leave?” You ask softly as your eyes flutter back open. “If you do, then look me in the eyes and say it.” You watch his eyes widen a little, searching your expression as that heavy promise washes over him. “Tell me you don’t love me, tell me you want me to leave, and I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t respond right away. That much you expected. “You want to sit here and wallow in your own self-pity?” You mutter. “Fine. I’ve tried, Toby. I’ve tried to help you. Tried to love you. But if you’re just going to sit here and insist you feel nothing for me? What am I supposed to do? You’re making me look like a fucking idiot.”

“I’m not m-making you do anything-“

“Say it.” You snap. “Say you want me gone. I will leave.”

“God dammit- I don’t want you g-gone.” Toby groans out, pinching his eyes shut as he brings two hands up to rub down his face. “I just want you to stop… Stop trying to change me. I want you to-to stop viewing me as something to be f-fixed.” He runs a hand through his hair, his fingers getting caught on the knots in the strands. “That’s a-all I’ve ever been, you know? Something broken. Some fuckin’ fixer-upper. It’s always; ‘I-I love you, but-‘ ‘You’re cool, but-‘. And it’s like… No one considers that m-maybe I’m just happy the way I am. Maybe I don’t n-need to change.”

“Are you?” You ask him. “Are you happy?”

And he hesitates. Little does he know, he doesn’t even need to answer after that little slip up. It’s enough to know that anything he says next is just a lie to cope.

“…I am.” He murmurs softly.

“You’re not.” And you sound far more sure than he did. It irks him. You expected that.

“This is what I’m t-talking about!” He huffs out. “You’re just so sure that you-you know exactly what I’m feeling. You’re not me. You don’t kn-know me.” Toby lets out a bitter laugh, no humour to it at all as his head hangs. “Maybe I am ha-happy, spending all my fuckin’ money on drugs. Maybe I l-like ruining every relationship I make.” Every word he speaks sounds more defeated than the last. Acceptance in the form of self-deprecation. It’s a step forwards, but god is it agonizing to witness. “M-Maybe- Maybe I think that it’s fun to fry my brain. That it’s e-exhilarating, knowing I’ll probably be dead by thirty.”

You watch his shoulders shudder when he exhaled, his eyelids fluttering closed as his fingers curl into loose fists in his lap. “Maybe I’m not s-supposed to be helped, you know? Some people aren’t.”

You let out a breath before taking a step closer, the blanket you held pooling around you as you sunk down to the floor at his feet. One of your hands comes up to gently rest over top of his, and you can feel the tremor he’s trying so hard to disguise.

“I don’t think you’re broken, you know.” You murmur to him, curling your fingers around his in a loose hold. “I… I guess, yeah, I got it in my head that you’re someone I could ‘fix’ - but I don’t think that’s really what it is.” Your eyes flick up to look at him, your thumb smoothing gentle circles against the back of his hand. You’re more surprised than anything that he hasn’t pulled away. “It started out as just fun, but news flash - I care about you now. Even when you act like a complete dick.” You offer him the tiniest of smiles, and he latches onto it. “I just don’t want to watch you keep hurting yourself. You know that’s what you’re doing, right?”

Toby takes in a little breath, his gaze flickering from the curve of your lips, down to how gently you’re holding him. You always held him like that. Like he was something to be cherished. Something you loved. It felt just as foreign as it did exhilarating every single time your skin met his.

It was scary how much he liked it. It made him realize how much he craved it.

“Yeah.” Toby mumbles back to you, his voice hoarse. His fingers curl around yours, returning your touch. His grip is much tighter than you were expecting, like you were his anchor. Borderline clinging to you as a means to protect himself from crumbling. “I-I know.”

“And?” You try to catch his eye. “Aren’t you scared of where that’s going to lead you?”

“Not re-really.” Slowly, gently, his fingers slip down to slot between yours - intertwining like two puzzle pieces locking into place. “I’m more s-scared of you.”

“Me?” You tilt your head to the side. “Why?”

“You…” Toby sighs softly, leaning forwards a bit where he sits. His eyes finally drift back over to yours, gazing down at him with an intensity that makes you shudder. Theres just so much to unpack there - longing, fear, regret, desire. He’s a whirlwind of emotions, sweeping you up and catching you in the crossfire - but knowing what it means to see this? Knowing that it’s him letting you in? You’re more than happy to be here. “You’re n-not the first person that’s t-tried to-to do this, you know.”

Down lower, he leans. Curling his body over to get closer to you, gazing at you through his eyelashes as his fingers squeeze your hand. “This-This whole thing. Wanting to help me. I never cared. N-Never budged. Never really gave a shit about anyone other than m-myself.”

Every other little thing in the room fades away - the hum of the fan blowing, the chirp of crickets outside his window, even the softness of the blanket against your skin - everything just melts. All you can focus on is Toby in front of you, giving you honesty you’ve never found the privilege of being offered before. “But you- I don’t…” His hand slips from yours in favour of finding your cheek, cupping your jaw, his eyes scanning over each and every feature of your face. Like he was memorizing every inch of the woman he had let down over and over again. Coming to terms with it. “Something about you- I just don’t w-want to keep hurting you, alright? You had a real spark when we met, you know that? I w-watched it fade.”

His voice is hoarse and strained, cracking on the end of his words like he’s mere moments away from falling apart right in front of you. Fragile. Vulnerable. It’s the best he’s ever looked. “I want you to g-get that back. Want you to live.” His hand slips back, sliding through the strands of your hair, cupping the back of your neck as his body subconsciously draws him in nearer. Pushing you away was straining. Staying close felt easier than breathing. “And I do-“ With how he hesitates, you know he’s about to melt you with a few simple words. He does. “I d-do love you, okay? I do. I just.. I know that ss-saying it will make you want to stay. And I don’t think you sh-should.”

The emotions warring within his mind only ramp up battle as he watches your expression soften. Half of him is thankful for your devotion, knowing he’s been so horrible and yet here you are still forgiving him. The other half, curses himself for not pushing you away when he was so close to it. You had a knack for always making him cave. “I feel like, e-even if I did quit everything- Even if I got all c-cleaned up, found a real job, got sober… I still don’t think I’d deserve you.”

“Toby.” You breathe back to him softly. “What did I say to you before? It’s not who you are-“

“It’s-It’s who I am, I know.” He finishes for you. “But how can you even know who I a-am? Through all the bullshit I feed you?”

“Because.” You shrug, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “You’re not as good of a liar as you think you are.”

“That right?” Toby snorts, the tiniest ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “So I’m a dick, an a-addict, and I’m a bad liar.” He shakes his head, raising an eyebrow. “What do you even see in me?”

“Well…” You hum. “I think you’re smart. Funny. Caring, even though you’d try to argue that I’m sure.” He rolls his eyes. “I just like being with you. Can’t really picture myself not being around you at this point.”

“But you said you’d l-leave if I asked.” Toby murmurs back to you.

“I would’ve been back by next week.” You chuckle softly, before letting out a little sigh. “I’m just tired of fighting. Tired of being the only one who wants to try.”

“I… I do want to try.” Toby breathes back to you, voice strained like he’s pulling teeth. But, he’s still saying it. Actually putting in the effort. “It’s… You’re just k-kinda uprooting me, you know? What if it’s all for nothing?”

“And what if it works out?” That’s what does him in. That’s what always melts him when it comes to you. Your unwavering optimism, your assuredness even in the face of his worst moments. When you look at him, it’s like you stare straight through him and into the very core of who he is. And your eyes? All they tell is that you see something good. Something he’s never seen in himself.

“Fuckin’ crazy.” He mutters under his breath, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. He’s still shaking. Maybe even worse now. “You’re nuts. God… No one should just p-put up with what I’ve put you through. You should be long gone.”

“But I’m not.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I love you.” As simple as that. Like it’s just as much of a truth as grass being green, or the sky being blue. You stayed, because you loved him.

Toby lets out an exhale that fans out against your lips, his eyes slipping closed in what almost looks like defeat. It didn’t feel like that though. It felt like surrender.

“You want me to g-get clean?” He whispers softly. “Want me to stop dealing? Be some typical, strait-laced member of society?”

“I want you to stop hiding from who you are when you’re sober.” You murmur back to him. One hand still keeps the blanket held up, but the other one drifts upwards to rest on his shoulder. He tenses up upon contact, but then relaxes. Like his body was getting used to the idea of being cared for.

“Then d-don’t leave me when I am.” It’s a plea. When his eyes open again and his gaze meets yours, you know that. All pride set to the side, he’s begging you. “And know that it won’t be easy. I don’t… I can’t remember the last f-full day I spent without it all. I’ll probably be an asshole.”

“Used to that.” You hum playfully, trying in vain to lighten the mood just a tad. But, it’s you, so it works on him.

“Yeah, well. Worse.” Toby snorts, shooting you a look. “So just like… Just promise that you-you’ll see it through? Because I-I don’t really think I could do it without you.”

“If I was going to leave, I would’ve by now.” You lean into his touch, lips curling into a smile that’s more genuine than any you’ve offered him in the past few months. You know that it’s true. You’re not quite sure when the switch flipped, and infatuation swapped itself for affection and care - but what you did know, was that leaving him just wasn’t in the cards for you. Caught in the web he had woven himself into, more than willing to let yourself be a victim.

But, you’d much prefer to snip the threads that held the both of you captive. You were sure that true freedom must taste far sweeter than the synthetic alternative he had been offering you.

“God…” Toby breathes out as the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Y-You really do, don’t you? You really love me.”

“Yeah.” Exhaled against his lips without an ounce of hesitation. “I do.”

Silence stretches between the two of you for a few moments, nothing but the soft sound of breathing and the gentle press of his fingers into your skin filling the gaps. He breathed life into you with each exhale, giving you back every ounce of what he had bled you for. The pads of his fingers skirting against your flesh in an attempt to stitch up the scars he had created. Toby could see it in your eyes, how tired you were - so worn and exhausted, yet still so hopeful.

Always hopeful, that what you were betting on wasn’t just a fantasy.

He knew that you’d stay regardless of if it was or not. That was the terrifying part. That you’d just let him tear you limb from limb, so long as he held you gently while he was doing it.

“Why?” His hand slips back into your hair, brushing through a few strands before tucking them behind your ear. God, you’re just so pretty. Even with the bags under your eyes and the hollow in your cheeks. Beautiful, even when ruined by his hands.

“I just do. Not everything needs a reason.”

For someone who had spent the greater deal of the past few years believing that he wasn’t worthy of another person's love - let alone love so unconditional - it was hard to accept. Every molecule in his body wanted nothing more than to fight it. To hold you down, and tell you that you didn’t mean it over and over until you were mindlessly agreeing with tears streaming down your cheeks.

But, he'd be kidding himself if he thought that would ever work anyway. You’d insist on your feelings with your dying breath, he was sure. Your stubbornness was as enviable as it was infuriating. It was one of the things he liked most about you.

He had always known he was going to lose this fight anyway.

“C’mere.” Toby doesn’t even wait for you to respond before his arms are slipping downwards and weaving around you, scooping you up and hauling you up into his lap. “You’re p-pretty stupid, you know?” He murmurs once you’re settled, his fingers interlocked behind your lower back to keep you stable. Unlike earlier though, his words don’t hold even a hint of malice, or annoyance. Just fondness. A resigned form of affection. His voice plays to the tune of surrender, each word laced with the sound of giving in.

“So you’ve told me.” You hum back to him, tired eyes shining when they meet his. “So are you. That’s why we’re so good together.”

Hearing his own words echoed back at him sends a shiver down Toby’s spine. It feels like so long ago that he said that now. So long of denying you - denying himself - of something that could be so good.

“Yeah.” Toby chuckles lowly as his head tilts downwards. “Just t-two fuckin’ idiots.”

It’s expected when his lips meet yours. What’s not expected, it’s the gentleness he brings with his touch. You’ve grown used to how Toby moves - greedy, sloppy, insistent and barely contained. Always kissing you like he needed the intensity to cloud over the thoughts in his mind. All of that was absent this time around.

Slow, controlled, his lips move against yours. Dry and cracked, but somehow feeling so soft as they slot between yours. Shaky exhales leaving his nose and fanning against your face, hands pulling you in closer bit by bit but lacking the roughness that always preceded every one of his touches. His hands weren't expectant, they weren't coaxing, they were grateful. Grateful to still be feeling the curves of your body beneath them.

He held you like he loved you. He kissed you like he was apologizing. His words soon catch up to follow that. “I’m sorry.” It’s murmured in a breath as his hands slip forwards to form a gentle grip on your hips, thumbs resting just below your hipbones. “F-Fuck, I really am. Treated you like-like shit-“

You hush him softly as you bring a hand up to cradle his jaw, pressing your lips back to his as a means to muffle his choked off apologies. For you, he didn’t even need to say it - you could feel it. The remorse was seeping out of his pores, so potent you could damn near smell it. A haze of regret and repentance settling over the room the longer you let him hold you near.

You welcome it. It feels like a detox. Everything he’s kept buried down, every tear he never shed around you, all rising up and spilling forwards for you to collect in your palms.

Kissing him right then felt like a sacrament. Toby giving you not just a carefully curated piece of himself, but him entirely. Pushing past the fear, because you had proven time and time again that you’d never treat him less than gently.

He wished he could say the same thing about himself. “D-Don’t deserve this-“ He slurs against your skin when your lips separate, his mouth brushing a shaky trail across your cheek, to your jaw, to the slope of your neck. It’s a path he’s memorized by now. It feels different this time. “You know- You know I don’t-“

You tilt your head to give him more room anyway.

“Sometimes you don’t need to deserve things.” You answer back to him, eyes fluttering as his teeth scrape the skin just below your ear. “Sometimes you can just have them.” You lean into him, trusting and serene, putting your life in his hands for the nth time over. “And sometimes, it’s best to just not question it.”

“H-How can I not?” His hands work fluidly despite the tremor to them. Slipping under the fabric of the blanket you kept yourself swaddled in and brushing it off of your shoulders to let it pool around your waist. Still bare, still stunning, still bearing the marks his teeth had bit into you. “You-You came into my life like some kind of a-angel.” His fingers dance up your waist, a feather-light touch that gives you goosebumps. “Selfless.” Higher, they map out the grooves of your ribcage - the fragility of the bones that hid beneath your flesh. “Kind.” Cupping the underside of your breasts, his hands shake against the delicate skin. “T-Too damn accepting.”

A shaky breath leaves you and vibrates against his palm as his fingers press into the soft flesh. Not rushed - appreciative. Like it was the first time he had ever touched you.

To Toby, it felt like it. What he had taken hours before had started to dissipate, the effects leeching out of him and leaving the uncomfortable emptiness of sobriety behind. But you, you filled in those gaps. The softness of your body soothed the shakes that were threatening to consume his entire body. The flavour of your skin washed away that stale chemical taste. He couldn’t remember the last time he had touched you without something swirling in his veins to hide his nerves and boost his confidence. In fact, he didn’t think he ever had.

This was new. You felt new. “I th-think I could do it, you know?” His breath fans against your collarbones as his right hand kneads your breast, the other one slipping down to retrace the path it had made up your side. This time though, it slips down lower. Skirting past your hipbone, instead finding the crease where your thigh met your hip. His fingers sink into the flesh there. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and it makes his heart jump. “I think… I think I could get better.”

“I know you can.” And he believes you.

You feel his fingers twitch, feel his breath hitch, and beneath you - you can feel his body responding to you in kind. The thin material of his boxers does nothing to disguise him, but you like it that way. You like the way it makes your stomach burn hot, like the butterflies that burst to life in your gut.

“…C-Can I?” You like that more. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him ask for permission. Not like this, at least. Hesitant and sheepish. Not expecting you to say yes.

It feels like a breath of fresh air. It feels like freedom.

“Yeah.” You breathe back as you press in closer to him. The chair creaks under your combined weight. “You can touch me.”

Toby breathes out something between an exhale, and a strangled groan as those words wash over him. Like he was wounded by the sweetness you poured out to him. Still, he moves, pressing his face into the crook of your neck - his lips parting in sync with yours when his fingers finally meet your core.

“God-“ His touch dances through your folds, a shudder going through his entire body as he feels your slickness coat the digits. “You-You’re too good-“ You gasp when his thumb finds your clit, jaw going slack when he rolls it beneath the pad of his finger like he’s done so many times before. It feels… Better now though, having all that sporadic eagerness swapped for gentle reverence. Working you over because he wants to watch you crumble, not just as a first step to getting you ready for him.

Toby could tell the difference just as much as you could. The way you trembled, how your voice choked out sounds so sweet he wanted to bottle them up. How you clung to him, bucked your hips towards his touch, leaned forwards to smear spit slick kisses against his throat. He felt like a veil had been lifted, and now he was seeing you for who you could truly be for the first time.

And god, were you a masterpiece. “Pretty-“ He gasps into your hair, his voice raw as his free hand cradles you - keeping you pulled in snug against his chest, not satisfied if he wasn’t feeling every inch of you at once. “So-So fuckin’ pretty- And so good-“ One finger turns to two, and then those two are curling jusy the way he knows you like it, a moan of his own slipping out in tandem with yours when you cry out and sink your nails into his shoulders. “You really- You really are an angel.”

He can feel your wetness soaking his fingers, droplets of slick running down his forearm - the most obscene sound ringing in his ears every time he sunk back into your cunt. Your body just welcomed him so eagerly. Warm and soaked, sucking him back in every time he pulled back. He had half the mind not to bring his fingers to his lips and lap up every drop of your essence, but only because he couldn't bear to leave you hanging. “My angel.”

Your parted lips leak drool against his shoulder, and he’s sure that his words are nothing but the truth. His free hand traces up and down your back, rubbing gentle circles as you shake in his arms. Thighs twitching, your chest heaving against his with every breath you struggle to pull into your lungs. “Yeah, th-that’s it.” He murmurs into your hair as he presses in deeper, the pads of his fingers stroking against your g-spot. And you were crying - clawing at him like you were trying to dig straight through to his bones. One hand in his hair, tugging at the strands for dear life, the other one tearing at his back with your nails.

Even without the pain it felt cathartic. He could feel it in the pressure of your grip, in the wetness of the droplets of blood your nails pulled up; you needed him. It wasn’t just something you said, it was something you felt deep in the core of who you were.

And christ, if he didn’t need you too. “C’mon,” Soft, a near whisper his words find you as your gasps grow higher and higher in pitch. “Cum for me, angel.”

You’re not quite sure what does it - his words, or his touch - but regardless, your body listens like he’s flipped a switch.

Toby catches you when you crumble to pieces on his lap. Murmuring soft affirmations against the shell of your ear as his touch soothes out the shakes. Cradling you like he was trying to keep you from falling apart at the seams, his own eyes fluttering as the sound of your moans circle around his head like a halo. When those sweet noises turn to gasps, and those gasps to shaky breathing, he’s sure that if he died right then as repentance for his sins he'd still be happy.

That’s something he’s only ever felt with you at an arms reach, or closer. “You s-sound so beautiful.” He whispers to you, gently using a hand to tilt your head out of the crook of his neck. Your eyelashes are clumped together, still wet tear tracks glistening on your cheeks as your sniffle. Flushed so pink and pretty, your eyes hazy in the best way as they meet his. “And you l-look even better.”

You let out a shaky little huff, cheeks only flushing darker as you press your pliant body flush up against his. You can feel his heart thudding against his ribcage like it’s threatening to burst free and fall into your lap. You’d catch it if it did.

When your trembling hands slip down lower, it only speeds up. Beating against yours to an uneven rhythm as his breath catches in his throat. You watch his throat bob when you graze a gentle touch along the waistband of his boxers. “H-Hey-“ He manages to choke out. “This isn’t a-about me, it’s about you.” And yet he makes no move to stop you. “It’s always about me.”

“I know.” You hum, your gaze flickering up to meet his. His deep brown eyes look darker than ever with how his pupils are swallowing them up, half shrouded behind dropping lids. “And this is what I want. I want you.” You smile softly. “Always have.”

And how is he ever supposed to argue with that? He always lost against you. Willpower weakened because giving in opened doors to such beautiful things.

Your laugh, your smile. The warmth of your touch when you start pushing the fabric off of his body.

He’s not quite sure he could deny you of anything anymore.

The blanket fully falls to the ground as you shift, uncovering what felt like miles of silky bare skin for Toby to rave over as you got him just as bare. Normally, this wouldn’t be so big of a deal. Something that he was used to.

To think he could’ve ever been so foolish not to rave over ever inch of you whenever he got the chance.

You felt like fire. Intense and overpowering, yet comforting and so warm. Flames of your desire licking at his skin with every move you made. Every muscle in his body so taut he was trembling, gazing up at you like you were a piece of fine art as you lifted your hips. Your fingers curl around him and he’s hissing through his teeth, brows pinching together as his hips jump into your touch.

His hands fly to your waist and squeeze, you being a lifeline. Keeping him intact just by being there.

And then;

“I-I love you.” Unprompted. Because he meant it, and for the first time ever - breathing the words out lifted a weight instead of adding one. He wanted you to stay - needed you to - and he was far beyond tired of acting like he didn’t.

And as you settle yourself over him - the head of his cock kissing your cunt as your slick dripped down onto him - you smile. Sweet, shaky, real. It’s the first time you haven’t had to force the words out of him, and it feels like a blessing.

“I love you too.” The feeling of him stretching you open feels even more like one. It’s slow, controlled - shaky as you let out a shuddering moan and weave your fingers into his hair. Languidly rolling your hips downwards and pushing deep groans out of his lungs, his calloused fingers pressing so deep into your hips that it began to ache - but you couldn’t blame him. You were sure that if he could feel it, he’d be hissing out curses from the strength in which you were grasping at the strands atop his head.

In the past, it always felt like there was an imbalance of power. You melting in Toby’s arms while he sat back and watched with an enviable composure, even when he was higher than you’ve ever been. That wasn’t this. This was equal ground. This was tearing each other apart, until you couldn’t tell when you started and he ended.

This was the way he borderline sobbed when your hips met his. How he gasped into your neck and leaked drool against your collarbone as he clung onto you for dear life. Moaning out your praises between every trembling breath, unrestrained and so raw as his lips left clumsy kisses against every inch of skin he could find. Pressing rumbles of pleasure into your flesh that vibrated through every inch of you.

Hands gently rocking your hips to meet him when he started rolling his up into you. Strained curses that punctuate every thrust - every time he sunk in so deep it made your body jolt. “Toby-“ Your skin ripples every time you sink down onto him, your face wrinkling in pleasure. Tears dot your lash line, threatening to spill over and retrace the already dried tracks on your cheeks. Toby’s leaning forwards to kiss them away before they can even fall.

That only makes more build. “I-I love you- God, I-“

“I know.” Whispered against your skin as he peppers a trail of kisses right back down to your lips. “I love you too.”

You’re half tempted to pinch yourself, to find out now if you’re dreaming before you let your mind fully clouded over. But, you know your mind couldn’t conjure this up. You’ve tried. Imagined this very scenario time and time again in hopes of manifesting it into reality.

It seemed to have worked, because the sting of his nails biting into your skin, the heat of his breath as it fans against your lips - it’s all too potent to be fake. “I-I’m gonna try for you, okay?” The bridge of his nose presses against yours as he keeps you locked in close, his breathing hitching as his cock dragged against your walls on the pull out. Sinking back in is even better though - his little slice of heaven, so warm, and tight, and so fucking his. Just soaking him, getting tighter and tighter with each snap of his hips.

Your thighs tremble, shaking from the strain, but his grip keeps you upright - so effortless it felt like it was his sole purpose to do so. “I-I probably won’t be good at it, b-but I’ll try.” A soft, wet kiss meets your lips. “For you.”

“And I’ll stay.” You manage, though it comes out half choked out between moans. “F-For you.”

“That’s a-all I ask.” Toby’s voice is strained and rough, every exhale sounding like a chore as his hips twitch - gravelly moans slipping off of his lips and straight onto yours. You swallow them down greedily. “Just stay.”

By now, that should be a given, but you’d repeat it until your dying breath if it meant he’d believe you.

It’s a dizzying blur in the most addictive way when his lips slot against yours again, smearing spit against your chin, his teeth knocking against yours and nipping at your lips from his lack of restraint. It’s like his body wanted to consume you, to drink up every last ounce until he couldn’t taste anything but you.

You accepted it - welcomed it - sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and tugging, swallowing back his saliva like you needed it to live.

And when you fall apart for the second time, you spill your moans right onto his tongue as his hands hold you through the tremors. He knows he couldn’t live without it when he breathes them into his lungs.

You’re just such a force to be reckoned with, that he finds himself tumbling over the edge right after you as your cunt pulses around him. His jaw goes slack, his forehead pressing against yours as his nails scrape of thin layers of your skin beneath him. Hips jerking, chests heaving, you shudder when you feel his cock twitch inside you. You smile when you feel that familiar warmth bloom deep within.

Lazy, sated - happy. You gently roll your hips even as your legs tremble from exertion, savouring the feeling of having him so close, milking him for every drop he could possibly give you.

He lets you, easily. Then, you fold. Crumpling forwards, your head comes to rest against his shoulder, eyes fluttering as you struggle to catch your breath. Sticky with sweat, tears, and everything in between, you melt into him. Beneath his ribs, his heart syncs up to the tune of yours.

“I-I mean it.” Toby murmurs after a few minutes, breathing out a heavy sigh as he rests his chin atop your head. His hands had found their way to your back again, calloused palms rubbing soothing circles against your shoulder blades. “I’ll try.”

“I know you will.” You whisper back to him, your words sincere.

“I can be g-good.” You’re not quite sure if he’s saying that to assure you, or himself, but you’re banking on the latter - because you’ve been believing those words for a long time before this.

And so you just say;

“I know you can.”

-

heyyyyy…… how y’all doin……

wow an actual full length fic from noctiva aint that crazy??? I’ve been putting off asks bc I’ve been working on this and a couple others at once this is just the first one that got freed from draft prison

i think this is going to be the last part of this little series btw!! unless I start thinking too much… which I am… prone to…

wtv!! hope you enjoyed lmfao

thanks for reading!

[520-xlic]

YOU’RE SO PRETTY IT HURTS T.ROGERS X READER

: ̗̀➛Back to source

You’re his sweetheart, his everything. The only good thing that shines light on his life as a proxy, and he desperately needs to show you how important you are to him.

You were curled up on the old couch in Toby’s room, one of your legs draped lazily over his lap, fingers absentmindedly running through his messy hair. He was trembling a little more than usual tonight, the muscle just beneath his left eye twitching in uneven beats.

He tried to keep his shoulders relaxed, but they jerked every now and again like someone was tugging invisible strings. Still, you could feel the way his breathing evened out slightly when he leaned into your touch.

He hadn’t said much all evening. Not that it was unusual. Sometimes, when the weight of the world and the screaming in his head got too loud, he just… folded into himself. You never pushed him. That’s part of why he loved you.

“Y-you’re s-s-so… fuck,” Toby mumbled through stutters, voice catching on a stutter and dissolving into a low groan. “Y-you’re so p-pretty it h-hurts.”

You looked down at him, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. They were hazy and dark, locked on you with something close to awe and need . Your heart skipped at the way his breath hitched.

“Yeah?” you whispered, smiling. “I think you’re pretty too.”

“Don’t,” he said, suddenly, voice tight and hoarse. His head jerked to the side and he blinked hard. “Don’t s-say that. Not… not about me.”

You frowned, thumb stroking the hinge of his jaw. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, burying his face in your neck like he wanted to disappear inside you. His gloved hands grabbed at your waist like he was anchoring himself. Like if he didn’t, he’d fall apart.

“B-because I’m not. I’m… I’m fucked up,” he said into your skin, muffled. “You s-should’ve left me, you… you c-c-could’ve. Could’ve found someone n-normal. Someone who doesn’t- duh-doesn’t-!!.” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Your chest ached. You tilted his face toward yours gently and kissed the corner of his lips. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want someone normal,” you whispered. “I want you.”

Toby let out a sound, half sob, half laugh. His hands shook harder as he pulled you closer, mouth brushing just beneath your ear.

“I d-don’t know how you do it,” he muttered. “Why you’re still here. I don’t- f-fuck…deserve you. But I need you. God, I-I need you.”

You felt the sharp scrape of his teeth on your neck but before the sting could even register you felt the warmth of his tongue, the suction of his lips, the hungry need in the way he mouthed at your skin like he wanted to consume you.

“I-I gotta… Need to… thank you,” he said, breathless. “Let me… please, l-let me thank you.”

Your fingers slid under the hem of his hoodie, feeling the hot skin of his stomach. He twitched under your touch, stammered something unintelligible, and looked at you with that wide eyed desperation again.

“I love you,” he choked. “It h-hurts how much I-I love you.”

“Then show me,” you said softly. “Let me take care of you, Toby.”

That’s all it took.

He had you on your back within seconds, gloves discarded somewhere on the floor, lips trailing rough, open mouthed kisses down your neck.

His hands were everywhere. Grabbing your hips, sliding under your shirt, shaking and twitching as he touched you like he didn’t know where to start or how to stop.

You could feel the love pouring out of him in every frantic movement. He didn’t touch like someone who was trying to get off. He touched like someone starving, desperate, reverent, terrified of waking up and finding out this was a dream.

“T-too much?” he asked, pulling back just long enough to search your face. You shook your head, arching up into him. “Not enough.”

He groaned low in his throat and yanked your shirt off. His eyes raked over your body like it was holy. “F-fuck… y-you’re like a fucking angel.”

You reached for him, helping him tug his hoodie and undershirt off. His skin was warm and scarred, chest rising and falling in shaky bursts. He looked nervous. Maybe even more than that, but you kissed every jagged scar like it was made of gold.

His fingers trembled as they skimmed your thighs, breath shaky, eyes flickering over every inch of you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“Y-you’re so… f-fuck, so pretty,” Toby praised, voice rough and full of awe. His head jerked to the side slightly, but that didn’t stop his wandering hands. “S-so fuckin’ perfect… how the hell are y-you mine?”

You reached for his cheek, brushing your thumb along his stubbly jaw. “So are you, baby.” Toby whimpered when you spoke in that low, loving voice, while full body shudder rolled through him. “D-don’t say that unless -fuck- unless you mean it,” he rasped. “I-I’m not gonna be able to… to hold b-back…”

You pulled him down into a kiss, both of your tongues fighting for dominance. His hands clenched in the sheets at first, but quickly moved, jittery, to your waist, then under your shirt, dragging it off like he needed it gone. And honestly? He probably would’ve combust if he hadn’t taken it off.

Next was your panties, he dragged the lacy fabric down your legs hurriedly, he just stared for a second. His pupils blew wide. His mouth opened, like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t form the words.

Then his scarred fingers moved closer, careful at first, then with a hunger that made your breath catch. He dragged two fingers through your folds, twitching slightly when he felt how wet you already were.

“Y-you’re this wet for me?” he whispered, voice breaking like he almost couldn’t believe it. You nodded, gasping when he slid a finger inside you, thick and slow. His hand trembled, and he groaned through his clenched teeth. Then another finger joined the first.

“F-fuck,” he muttered, jaw twitching. “Y-you’re- so t-tight… feels like y-you’re already pullin’ me in.” He was barely holding it together, thrusting his fingers into you while his other hand dug into your thigh, holding it wide. He twitched as he moved, watching your face contort with pleasure.

“D-don’t look away,” he begged, voice cracking as he curled his fingers inside you. “I wanna see you fall apart… Wanna see what I d-do to you…”

You whimpered when his thumb found your clit rubbing slow and teasing circles, his hand twitching even as started to move with more confidence. You clenched around him, moaning his name, and he lost it.

“F-feel that?” he panted, voice shaking. “You’re s-so close, I can f-feel you gripping -fuck- gripping me…” You came with a cry, thighs trembling, body arching into his hand. He didn’t stop, kept fingering you through it, lips hovering just above yours, eyes wild.

“G-good girl,” he whispered. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this. M-made just for me.” When he finally pulled his fingers out, he quickly brought them to his mouth go get a taste, sucking them in with a groan.

“I c-can’t- can’t wait anymore,” he choked. “Need to be inside you. Need to feel you.” He pushed his pants down in one rushed motion, cock flushed and leaking, twitching just like the rest of him. He lined up at your entrance and froze, teeth clenched. “It’s okay.” you breathed.

He didn’t have to be told twice and sank into you with one deep thrust, burying himself all the way to the hilt. Your back arched, and he let out a sound, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “S-so-so tight,” he gasped. “Oh my f-fucking god…”

He set a rhythm, fast, erratic, twitching through every thrust like he could barely control himself. His moans were constant, broken, raw.

He sank his teeth into your neck, rough enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if he broke the skin. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, pupils wide and dark, like he was staring at something divine. His eyelids fluttered shut as he leaned in and pressed soft, reverent kisses over the fresh bite marks he had just made.

“F-fuck, you feel so good, feels like y-you were made for me,” he gasped. “Y-you take me s-so well, you’re duh-doing s-so good…”

His hips slammed against yours, hands gripping your waist, twitching as he lost himself deeper. He looked wrecked as he clenched his jaw shut, eyes rolling back slightly.

You met his thrusts, voice shaky, moaning into his mouth, “Don’t stop, Toby.”

“I won’t,” he pressed gentle kisses to your temple, his thrusts never wavering. “P-promise.”

You clenched around him, body shaking, pleasure building again. His twitching got worse, whole body spasms between thrusts, but he didn’t stop. He held on.

“G-god, I’m close,” he choked. “You’re s-squeezing me, fuck, fuck, come for me again? P-please, baby, let me feel it-“

You cried out his name as you came again, body locking up under him. He groaned into your neck, hips stuttering, cock twitching as he spilled inside you. Hot, deep and messy.

He collapsed on top of you, panting into your skin, twitching slightly with the aftershocks.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just the sound of heavy breathing and rustling sheets, the tremble of his voice when he whispered, “You’re perfect.”

I suck at writing NSFW

[520-xlic]

WHAT WHAT WHATW AHREHATWHAR IM FREAKING OUT OH MY GOD I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT ACE. THE ACE. LIKED MY EJ HEADCANONS

This is a win for the unemployed (me)

[520-xlic]

valley beneath || tobias rogers x female!reader

a/n ; a self insert fic because ive been in the slumps lately and want comfort from my fav creep 🫶 my dms are always always always open, im always here for you.

cw ; detailed depression, borderline personality disorder, anxiety, avoidant behavior, sh scars mentioned, ed mentioned, just general mental health awareness, mention of toby's jobs/missions, creepypasta things, NOT proofread

> bell's navigation <

the room was dark, a fan blowing in the corner to keep the humidity out of the room. you could feel the way your hair tickled your neck with the wind, but the blanket mostly suffocated the skin. your hands clenched around the fabric, sweating, but too cold to actually remove the thick wool.

the past week has felt off, and you tried so hard to fight the difference. the more your eyes darted around the steamy mirror, your body bare and rough. every individual line that didnt match your skin tone jumped out, like they were taunting your mind.

you became more snappy with toby, causing arguments that ended in muffled sobs against the seat of the toilet, forehead sticky and toby's rough hands against your back. it seemed unfair, the way you caused everything and within five minutes needed the comfort back.

you apologized profusely to toby for the way youve been acting, but he holds your face and tells you:

'i understand'

but you dont believe that. you never have. so when the door creaks open and the room fills with the metallic smell from his latest victim, you dont move.

"im back," he mumbled, hanging his stained hatchets on their designated wall mounts, and slinging his jacket on the back of his desk chair.

no words or noises leave your chapped lips, just a shift against your pillow, hair tangling as it had been the last few days.

"have you eaten today,?" he asks, when he already knows the answer.

he can see the way your more pale, sweating but shivering, and the heaviness in your eyelids. all he can do is sigh, before walking to your shared bed and sitting at the edge. he began to untie his boots and slide them off, no more words leaving.

his hand rests against your hip atop of the blanket, thumb brushing slightly.

"im worried bout you. tim and brian have been askin' bout you, too." he begins, nudging you to roll and face him.

you do, blinking slowly, "mm." is all you can manage right now, the weight in your chest bubbling into your throat.

you close your eyes, praying you wouldnt need to get up and travel to the ground of the bathroom again.

"i cant sit here and watch you do this, sweet pea, you know that," he pleads, begs, even

"i know - jus' give it a week and ill be back and buzzin'." you explain, sitting up slowly.

he reaches over and tucks a piece of damp hair behind your ear, pulling your head close and kissing it.

"lemme take care of ya, hm? gonna run you a bath." he concludes, standing up and walking into your bathroom.

you hear the water run, a loud stream as it thunders against the porcelain tub. he plugs the drain and pours a bit of your body wash into the running stream.

he emerges, walking towards you and sliding his hands around your back and under your knees. the blanket falls from your legs and he carried you to the bright bathroom, setting you gently down on the sink counter.

"dont fight me right now, mkay?" he hums, sliding his hands to the hem of your shirt and pulling it over yourself.

you shut your eyes tightly, too ashamed to know hes looking at you, the you thst had to drape sheets over the mirrors just so you could walk around still.

"youre beautiful, i wish you knew that." he whispered, helping you out of the rest of your clothing.

he scoops your bare and cold body up, sliding you down into the lukewarm water. he shuts off the faucet, looking down at the suds that covered your body beneath the surface.

he kneels down beside your head, hand rubbing into your damp shoulders, "hey, look at me," he says softly, not asking.

you blink up at him, the gash in his cheeks showing the way he swallowed nervously. his lips were slightly parted, trying to think of what to say next.

"i don' wanna lose you, not to yourself. please." he says, voice barely whispering.

you smile, only a bit, leaning your head down into his wet arm.

"i aint leavin' yet, you think you can get ridda me that easily?" you scoffed, fluttering your eyes closed once more and sinking down into the tub.

the rest of the night was easy, toby carried you everywhere, fed you, held your hair back in the vomit scare, and held your trembling body close when you cried so hard you could only hiccup.

at the end of the worst days, atleast toby knew how to make you feel like 'just one more day' was real.

[520-xlic]

guys. i need to fuck toby so bad. this isn’t funny. I’m close to tears over it

[520-xlic]

love how there's only a handful of creepypasta writers. @rainrot4me @lordprettyflackotara @noctiva @horny-marbles and they're goated. they write the best fics and they EAT IT UP EVERYTIME.

[520-xlic]

good idea

[520-xlic]

threeway kiss with jeff and toby... giggles...

You’re wedged between them on the worn-down couch, one leg thrown lazily over Jeff’s lap, Toby half-slumped at your side, hoodie bunched at the elbows and goggles hanging around his neck. The room smells like old wood and cigarette smoke, laughter still echoing from a dirty joke Toby told five minutes ago—and you’re all just buzzing off the warmth of each other’s bodies, the hum of something more under your skin.

You may be drunk. Just, maybe. Toby brought in a six-pack, and Jeff jumped onto the boy like he’s been starved of alcohol for years. So, naturally, the three of you decided to get buzzed together. And maybe that buzz has turned into nonconventional flirting.

Jeff’s fingers trace the hem of your shirt, his eyes glinting with that sharp, teasing hunger. “You’re laughing like you’re not the most terrible kisser there is.”

Toby snorts, elbowing him half-heartedly. “J-Jesus, dude. Maybe try flirting like a human. If you wa-wanna kiss me so bad, just s-say that.”

But you? You just smirk. “Why don’t you both shut up and kiss me, then?”

They pause. A beat of silence. Jeff blinks. Toby raises an eyebrow.

Then you lean forward—hands finding their collars—and pull them in.

It starts soft. Experimental. You kiss Toby first—his mouth warm, uncertain, but eager—his breath hitching when your lips move just a little too slowly against his. He tastes like cinnamon gum and nicotine, and the way he sighs into you makes something flutter low in your belly.

Jeff watches like a predator, lip twitching. “Hurry up.”

And before Toby can move away, Jeff is there, kissing you while you’re still catching your breath.

Jeff kisses like he wants to devour you—teeth grazing your bottom lip, tongue slipping in like he’s claiming something. His hand cups your jaw, rough and demanding, and you moan before you can stop yourself. In contrast, he tastes like the beer he just finished and a one-too-many cigarettes.

Toby doesn’t move. He just… leans closer. Watching. Breathing heavier.

Your hand finds the back of Toby’s neck. Jeff’s lips are still on yours when you tug Toby forward again. Even still, Jeff doesn’t pull away. He tilts your chin—and you feel both of them press in.

Toby’s lips brush the corner of your mouth as Jeff kisses the other side. You laugh—giggling into their mouths, giddy from the heat, the closeness, the way they both want you so badly they’re willing to share.

Then it’s a tangle of tongues and lips and quickened breathing—Jeff’s teeth nipping at Toby’s lip as he leans too close, Toby growling under his breath but not pulling away, just kissing deeper, messier, one hand gripping your thigh.

Your hands are in their hair. Their hands are all over you. And the three of you are kissing like it’s the only thing keeping the room spinning. And it’s not soft anymore. It’s hungry. It’s hot. It’s chaos and surrender and everything you shouldn’t want but do anyway.

You finally pull back, breathless, lips swollen and slick. Jeff’s smirking, flushed and wild-eyed. Toby’s blinking like he just forgot how to speak.

You giggle again, dragging your thumb across your lips. “Told you. Best kisser here.”

Sharp hands grab your hips to straddle Jeff’s lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, lips slick from his. Toby’s scoots closer beside you on the couch—close enough that your shoulder brushes his chest every time you shift. It’s hot, charged, breathless.

Jeff bites your bottom lip just hard enough to make your thighs squeeze around his hips. “Have you always tasted this sweet?” he mutters, grinning into the kiss.

You giggle against his mouth, but before you can answer, Toby leans in behind you and presses a kiss to your shoulder—then your neck—then your jaw. His lips find your cheek just as Jeff starts kissing the other side. Their mouths are on you in tandem—hot and greedy, almost like they’re competing, almost like they’re forgetting where you stop and they begin.

Toby kisses the corner of your mouth. Jeff licks at the edge of your lips, eyes fluttering half-lidded. Then—

Their mouths meet.

It’s accidental. Just a shift, just a second too long spent near your lips, and suddenly Jeff’s mouth brushes Toby’s.

They both freeze. It’s breath on breath. Close enough to feel each other’s inhale. Neither pulls back.

Toby’s tongue flicks against Jeff’s lip. Jeff doesn’t stop him.

You go completely still—watching as they start kissing each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. It’s clumsy at first—Toby’s fingers still curled in your thigh, Jeff’s hand fisted in your shirt—but then it clicks.

Jeff tilts his head. Toby leans in harder. Their mouths move like they’ve done it before in some dream—wet, open-mouthed, tongues sliding against each other with that same dizzying need they gave to you.

You giggle. And that’s what snaps them out of it. Jeff pulls back a hair, lips slick and pink, eyes blown wide. Toby blinks at you, slightly breathless.

“What?” Jeff mutters. His voice is rough. Disoriented.

You press a hand to your mouth, barely hiding the grin. The alcohol slurs your words a tad, so it sounds more giddy than you intended, “You two just made out.”

Toby’s ears go red. Jeff scoffs—but he’s smiling, that rare crooked grin he only gets when he’s caught off guard.

“Yeah?” Jeff murmurs, dragging his thumb across Toby’s spit-slick lower lip. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

Toby grabs the front of Jeff’s hoodie, smirking now. “I thi-think we can try again. Ju-Just to see.”

You barely have time to gasp before they’re kissing again—deeper this time—right in front of you, hot and messy and tangled in the heat they just shared with you. And then they pull you back in—all mouths and gasps and fingers clutching too tight—until you can’t tell who’s kissing who anymore. Just warmth. Just hands. Just more.

꩜ .ᐟ

[520-xlic]

COME ON RAIN give us a little tease of brian and tim kissing and fucking 🙏🙏

๑ Warning: Anal, jerking off, no prep Masky can just take it

── .✦

“Stop fucking talking,” Brian hisses.

He crashes his lips against Tim’s, forceful and wet, tongue sliding between his teeth. Tim answers in kind—mouth opening, tongue flicking against Brian’s in a hot, messy tangle. Their mouths work together like desperate machinery, teeth grazing lips, tongues wrestling, jaws aching as they fight to press closer.

Tim’s hands go straight for Brian’s chest, thumbs digging into hardened muscle as he thumbs at the waistband of his hoodie. Brian shoves him back against the wall of the bathroom—cold tile pressing into Tim’s skin—then leans in, one hand curling around the back of Tim’s neck while the other slips under his t-shirt, rough nails scraping across warm flesh.

Brian pulls back just enough to catch his breath, forehead pressed to Tim’s. His voice is a ragged whisper. “You think you’re so fucking tough, don’t you?”

Brian smirks, heat blazing in his dark eyes. “I only get tough for you.”

That’s all the invitation they need. Brian crashes back in, burying his mouth on Tim’s throat first—lips sucking bruises into the soft skin—then trailing up to bite at his jaw. Tim moans, body arching into Brian’s hand, fingers winding through his hair.

Brian nips at Tim’s lower lip, pulls back, and drags his tongue along the split. He presses a brutal, nasty kiss back onto Tim’s mouth, one arm wrapped tight around his waist, the other hand fisting the front of his jeans. Tim grinds his hips forward, brushing their bulges together.

Their bodies press so close there’s hardly any space between them—skin slick with sweat, breath coming in ragged gasps that mix together and catch in the charged air. Tim’s hand snakes down Brian’s side, over belt loops, and tugs hard. Brian responds by backing Tim up until the small, grimy vanity behind them.

“God, you drive me insane,” Brian growls against Tim’s neck.

Tim laughs—dark and low—and heads tilt back so Brian can taste more. Brian’s mouth is hot against Tim’s skin, teeth grazing lightly, while Tim’s hips push up in a steady, punishing grind between layers of thick clothes that feel far too tight.

They break apart only long enough to stare at each other—slick hair plastered to their foreheads, lips swollen, chests heaving—and then collide again in one last scorching kiss, tongue and teeth and moans all at once, riding that edge between pain and pleasure until the world outside the door might as well not exist.

Their lips finally part, bodies still pressed together, but neither lets go. Brian’s hand slides down Tim’s chest, over the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down in one impatient rip. Tim’s fingers do the same, peeling Hoodie’s jeans and boxers free until his cock springs upright—hard, flushed, dripping.

Brian’s grip on Tim’s hips is iron-strong, guiding him until his back is pressed hard against the tile wall—cool porcelain against heated skin.

“Turn around and grab the edge of the sink,” Brian murmurs, voice low and commanding.

Tim obeys without hesitation, trembling fingers clutching the chipped porcelain edge. His jeans and boxers are yanked down in one rough tug, leaving him bare below the waist. Brian’s own pants are already around his ankles, cock rock-hard and pulsing with need.

Brian presses forward, cockhead brushing wetly against Tim’s entrance, coating Tim’s ass with slick. Tim parts his legs wider, the wall scraping gentle bruises across his shoulders as Brian lines up.

“You ready?” Brian whispers, breath hot at Tim’s ear.

Tim’s only answer is a low moan of anticipation.

With one hard thrust, Brian drives in—slow at first, letting Tim feel the full girth of him stretching that tight heat. Tim’s knuckles whiten on the sink’s edge as Brian holds him still, hips pistoning deep and deliberate.

Brian’s free hand grips Tim’s shoulder, nails digging in, thumb pressing just under his jaw. Each pull-back and push-forward sends a delicious jolt through Tim’s body, his back arching until the wall’s cold surface is all he can feel.

“Fuck,” Tim pants, voice echoing in the small room. He grabs his wilting cock with his fist, jerking himself in time with Brian’s pace fucking into him.

Brian answers with a dark chuckle, burying himself to the hilt. Then he starts moving faster—thrust after thrust, hard enough to make the sink rattle. The slick slap of flesh meets flesh fills the air, mingled with Tim’s ragged gasps.

Brian leans down, mouth brushing the shell of Tim’s ear. “You like that, don’t you? Being bent over like this.”

Tim arches into Brian’s hold, pressed so completely against the wall that he can’t look back—he only can feel Brian’s cock filling him, owning him with every savage thrust.

Brian’s thrusts slow, but he doesn’t stop—pulling out only halfway before slamming back in, chasing his own release. “Jesus, Tim… doin’ so good…”

Brian’s free hand slips between Tim’s thighs, slapping Tim’s hand out of the way to grip his cock with his own grip in time with his thrusts. Tim cries out, a sound halfway between pain and exquisite pleasure.

“You’re so tight,” Brian growls. “So perfect.”

Tim’s response is a breathless moan, “Brian… shit—”

Brian grabs his hips and slams in deeper, letting Tim scream into the bare wall. Each of Brian’s thrusts drives him over the edge, muscles coiling around Brian with desperate rhythm.

With a final, guttural groan, Brian pulls out just enough to line up once more, then plunges in again, spilling inside Tim in a hot rush. Tim’s body shudders, orgasm ripping through him as the warmth floods his core, cock drooling all over the cracked sink below.

They stay pressed together—Brian’s chest against Tim’s back, both of them breathing hard—until Brian finally collapses his forehead against Tim’s shoulder, letting both of them catch their breath.

Tim slides his hand back, then glances over at Brian, voice soft and shaky, “Fuck… you...”

Brian brushes Tim’s hair back from his neck, kissing the shell of his ear tenderly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice still thick. “Whatever you say.”

꩜ .ᐟ