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horny-marbles · 1 month ago

Note

PLS DO MORE TOBY LIL FICS PLS PLS PLS I LOVED THE OBSESSED READER SHIZZ AND THE ENITRE PLOT wondering if you’ll write more of those bc I deadass loved that fic and everysingle writings you publish

babe... ask and you shall receive 🙏🏻 but thank you so much ahhhh!!! currently working on some requests but i have an extensive list of shit for toby that's clawing at my hands everytime i open my notes app lol THEY'RE COMING

ꋪꏂ꒯ ꒒ꋬꉔꏂ (Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

CW: stalking, home invasion, themes of obsession, creep behavior lol, feral drooling toby that curses like a sailor, degradation but in an adoring way, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), squirting, some mild biting and choking, a liiiittle anal play, creampie

summary: you're a regular ass chick that never looks twice over her shoulder because who the hell would stalk you? well...

word count 7k

It started on a night so cold the air cut. Winter didn’t feel like a season—it felt like punishment. Every breath stung lungs raw, wind bit through the alleyways like teeth and the snow—sharp-edged and crusted with ice—cracked under heavy boots. No one with a working brain was outside. No one except you.

You, and Toby.

You stormed down the sidewalk like it owed you money, diner work uniform half-tucked under a coat three sizes bigger, carrying a greasy bag of cold leftovers. The street was dead silent, a graveyard of snowplowed sludge and flickering streetlamps. You didn’t care. You never seemed to care.

“Fuckin’ hell—shit,” you grumbled as your foot skidded on a patch of black ice. “If I eat it and die out here, I hope someone loots my corpse.”

Your voice punched into the stillness like a brick through glass.

That was the moment.

Toby hadn’t been following you. He didn’t do that shit—didn’t have the patience, didn’t care enough about people to watch them. Stalking missions were the worst. All that sneaking around just to gut someone later anyway. Waste of time. He was just... out. He liked the cold. Couldn't feel it, but liked how it made the world shut up. No traffic, no people, just silence and sharp air.

But your voice cut through the air like you were the only thing alive. Sharp, pissed-off, no filter. Not afraid. Not aware.

From the dark between two alley dumpsters, his head tilted.

You looked like nobody. Plain. Tired. Lips cracked from the cold, hair stuffed under a beanie, boots scuffed to hell. The kind of girl people forgot after ten seconds. You smelled like fryer grease and cheap soap. You didn’t check over your shoulder once.

You didn’t give a fuck.

That was what made him follow.

You were pissed at the ground. That was your crime. The moment he saw your middle finger fly up at a mailbox when your elbow clipped it, something ugly flared up in his chest. You weren’t trying to be seen—but he couldn’t stop looking. There was something fucking wrong with the way you grabbed his attention like that. Like instinct. Like hunger.

He trailed you all the way back. A little closer than he should’ve, just to test if you’d notice.

You didn’t.

Inside, you moved like a creature in its habitat—half-unconscious, messy, private. You dropped your keys on the counter, kicked your shoes off, threw your snow damp coat across a chair without shutting the blinds. Your apartment lights made you glow from where he crouched across the street, barely breathing, pupils blown.

He thought about leaving. Just a glance. Just curiosity.

Then you started undressing.

Not slow. Not sexy. Just peeled your shirt off like it was suffocating you, tugged your bra straps down without a second thought, tits bouncing a little as you yanked the whole thing over your head. No hesitation. No audience.

Except him.

Toby’s breath caught hard in his throat.

You stood there, topless, scratching absently at your ribs, red, irritated bra dents across your back and shoulder blades. One hand shoved into your waistband to dig out the edge of your underwear. You kicked your pants off in a pile near the couch on your way to the kitchen, panties riding up the curve of your ass as you bent to adjust your sock. You didn’t even think about it.

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t think anyone watched you. Why would they? You were average. You felt average. Regular job, regular body, regular goddamn life. Who the fuck would waste their time stalking you?

You were wrong.

You were perfect.

Toby’s cock throbbed in his pants. Hard in an instant. Ugly hard. He hadn’t even realized he was touching himself until his hand stilled over the bulge in his jeans, breath fogging the air. Your body wasn’t a fantasy, wasn’t porn-polished—it was real. Unposed. Flawed. Soft in all the right places, limbs heavy with exhaustion, belly relaxed. You moved without self-consciousness, because you believed no one gave a shit.

And that was the first night he knew: you were his. You just didn’t know it yet.

The days that followed bled into weeks. Then months.

And you didn’t notice.

Why would you?

Your life had a shape—small, predictable, unremarkable. The kind that didn’t attract attention. You worked nights at a diner that smelled like stale grease and cheap cologne, mostly because the night shift came with extra tips and less people. You didn’t like people. Or maybe people didn’t like you. Either way, it worked out.

He watched it all.

From rooftops, alley shadows, behind dumpsters—he tracked your patterns like instinct, until he could map your movements by memory. You never deviated. Your world was contained within a few blocks: the diner, a 24/7 bodega you hit for shitty wine and paper towels, a laundromat where your socks disappeared two at a time, and your apartment—a one-bedroom shoebox you barely maintained, where the curtains stayed open just enough to tempt a demon.

You thought you were boring. You acted accordingly.

You stripped in front of open windows, sat in threadbare panties with one leg hanging off the edge of the bed, doomscrolling Reddit and Tumblr while scratching absently under your tits. Sometimes you’d read smut—illegible from where he sat, to his frustration—eyes glazed, one hand creeping down under your waistband, the other holding your phone like a vice. Sometimes you'd finish with a half-hearted gasp and slump sideways, scrolling again like nothing happened.

He watched the way your face changed when you touched yourself—disbelieving, desperate, as if you were grateful just to feel something.

Toby learned quickly how lonely you really were. You didn’t talk to anyone. Not really. The phone never rang unless it was a coworker begging you to cover a shift. You’d slam it down and bitch out loud like the walls were listening. No family visits. No best friends stopping by. No boyfriend. No one.

Just you. You in your weird little world, raw and cracked open and unaware that someone was eating you alive from the outside in.

And it made Toby fucking dizzy. You were starving. Not just for touch—for company. For care. For proof that someone saw you, that someone was just as hungry. And he was already full of teeth.

He started creeping closer. He couldn’t help it. It was a compulsion, like chewing, like scratching, like panting.

First time he broke in, it was almost boring.

The window slid open like an invitation. Not even locked. Not even latched. He stood there staring at the frame, muttering under his breath in disbelief. “What the f-fuck, bitch. Y-You don’t luh-lock your windows...?”

He was inside your room with both feet planted before his heart even finished beating once. You weren’t home. You wouldn’t be for hours. And still, he stood in your space like it was stolen.

It reeked of you.

Faint perfume. Sour sweat. Clean sheets with your warmth pressed into the fabric. Towel on the floor. Pajamas discarded over the bedpost. There was something obscene about how much life you left scattered around.

Toby’s knees hit the mattress fast. Face down. Deep breath. He buried himself in the covers like a dog in heat, nose first, groaning—groaning—at the flood of scent: shampoo and detergent and wet cunt and skin and something hopeless.

He pressed his palm into his dick through his jeans and rocked forward once, hasty.

Then again. Then with both hands—groping and grunting and rutting into his palms—getting off to the made up image of what you'd look like on top of him while he slammed up into you. Spread open, eyes rolled, tits bouncing in circles, fucked out and drooling.

He came messy, fast, gritting his teeth against your sheets, making no effort to stop the noise. It was gross. It was ugly. It felt like worship.

Next night, he came back.

Your drawer was half-open. Sloppy. Like you were in a rush that evening. His fingers dipped inside, careful. He shuffled through cotton and the occasional lace until he found the pair you always seemed to wear right after laundry day. Favorite ones, clearly. Faded black with a cute embroidered skull on the mound. Worn thin at the seams. He stuffed them in his jacket pocket and took one more long breath at the foot of your bed before slipping out again.

You noticed, eventually.

You reached into your drawer a couple nights later, half-asleep, hunting that comfort pair. They weren’t there. You checked the laundry, the hamper, the floor. Nothing.

“The fuck,” you mumbled. “Fucking laundromat probably ate ‘em too. Big and greedy, man."

Brushed it off. Moved on.

But Toby wasn’t finished.

Two nights later, you opened your drawer again—and froze.

Sitting neatly on top was a new pair. Not your style. Not your brand. A blood-red lace thong, crotchless, strappy, slutty, like it belonged in a porn photoshoot.

And resting on top, a torn scrap of receipt paper with something scribbled on it, looking like it was written by someone that hadn't been sober a day in their life.

Fuck those worn out panties, you'd look better in these. —T

Your face went pale. You backpedaled so hard you almost fell. Slammed the drawer shut. Yanked it open again. The note was still there.

You tore through the apartment. Checked the locks. Windows. Under the bed. Inside the closet. No sign of a break-in. Nothing disturbed.

Just that pair of panties. Just that note.

He stayed away for a week. Slipped back into the cold, into the dark, adrenaline still crackling in his bones. And for the first time in his life, Toby waited.

He thought he was fucked. Figured the cops would show up any day now, that you’d call, report a break-in, scream bloody murder about a pervert sniffing around your drawers. That the second he climbed back through your window, there’d be some twitchy beat cop waiting with a hand on the gun at his belt.

But it never came.

A day passed. Then two. Then five.

And the next time he slid up to your building, fingers twitching against the cold brick, he took his usual place by the window—careful not to fog the glass, careful not to make a single sound. He crouched low, eyes barely cresting the sill. Expecting quiet. Maybe the glow of your laptop, maybe you asleep in your usual tangled mess of sheets.

Instead, he found you spread out across the bed, glowing with sweat and heat and that particular, private kind of shame.

He blinked, breath leaving his lungs in one ragged, fuck me exhale.

You were wearing them. His gift, wrapped around your hips like a fucking ribbon. Thin red lace soaked through with slick and need and oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Cutting sharp into your ass, skimpy straps where the crotch should've been digging into the crease of your thighs, framing your puffy cunt like a work of art. One hand between your legs, soaked. The other gripping the pillow behind your head, fingers curled like claws.

You didn’t even look like you were breathing—just panting in short, stuttering bursts, lips bitten red and glossy, that look in your eyes like you were about to cry from how fucking badly you wanted it.

Toby stared and made the quietest, sickest sound in the back of his throat—half tic, half need—teeth clamping into his lip until it bled, muffling a groan. His goggles were shoved up into his hair, but the mouth guard stayed on—habit, maybe. Or maybe it was just the sick hope that, in case you were mentally deranged enough to let him fuck you—like he'd been dreaming about for months—his scars wouldn't freak you out right off the bat.

You didn’t stop.

You hadn’t even noticed him yet.

He watched your fingers work slow at first, hips twitching like you were trying to hold off—trying to edge yourself stupid. Your face was flushed. Brows drawn in tight. Little, messy curses spilling from your mouth as your eyes fluttered shut, back arching up off the mattress like it was too much to stay still.

His dick, heavy and aching, grinded against the seam like it was trying to break through and pull his entire body with it through the window.

It wasn’t just that you were touching yourself. It wasn’t just the panties. It was that you were doing it for him. You didn’t even know he was there—yet the evidence was everywhere.

He couldn’t hold it anymore. He moved to the glass and knocked—once, sharp. Not loud enough to wake the neighbors. Just loud enough for you.

You jumped.

Your head snapped toward the window, eyes wide and glassy, chest heaving. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. Just froze with your hand still between your legs, blinking at the shape crouched just outside the glass. Face flushed, glistening with sweat. Thighs trembling.

He watched you recognize him—the shape of an intruder, the silhouette of danger. Watched your eyes dart to the goggles pushed up on his head, the mouthguard still in place, hiding the worst of the scar. He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave.

Your heart was beating so loud it drowned out the world. A roaring drumline in your chest, crashing against your ribs so hard you swore he could hear it from the other side of the glass.

You’d only just barely started to breathe again. Your orgasm had been hanging on by a string—your body strung up and ready to snap—and then you looked up, and met brown eyes.

Brown, human eyes, burning through the glass, lit with something so famished it made your stomach drop clean through your pelvis. Fear, yes—but also heat, immediate and wet. A sick pulse between your legs that flickered sharp and electric, tangled in the panic like barbed wire. You didn’t mean to leave your hand there, still twitching on your clit, fingertips slippery with need—but the moment froze.

Your cunt was throbbing.

He just stared at you like you were meat—waiting, shoulders twitching ever so slightly, barely contained. But you didn’t pull your hand away.

And that’s when it hit him.

You wanted this. Maybe not in some clean, healthy way—but it was there. That need. That hunger. Just as fucked as his, simmering under your skin. You needed dick like your lungs needed air.

You still hadn’t moved. Just stared right back. But he saw it. The tiniest little twitch of your hips again. Just enough to rub against your palm. His mouth twitched under the mask, equal parts grin and snarl.

You were panting, dazed, wide-eyed—and something in you, deep in the filth of your loneliness and need, made your hand shift. Not down, not back to your clit—but up. A small wave. Shaky. Awkward. A little stupid. Half a question, half an invitation.

And that was all it took.

Toby moved before you could even finish the gesture. One hand slammed the window open with a sharp snap of the latch, and the other hauled him in with the kind of strength that wasn’t fair. He was inside before your gasp even fully left your lips, a blurred motion of boots and gloves and fogged-up goggles before his feet hit your floor like a warning shot.

You shrieked. A real sound, startled and breathless, hands flying to cover yourself—more out of instinctual panic than modesty. Because looked like he was about to fucking devour you.

He stood tall. Taller than you thought—broad-shouldered and twitching with leftover adrenaline, fog and icy air trailing in behind him. His clothes smelled like snow and smoke and him, sharp pine and something raw, and your legs squeezed together without your permission. Because fuck, even though part of you shamefully fantasized about a good looking, well built, kind-of-fucked-up-but-not-entirely-mental stalker, the reality was that it could've been anyone. Anything.

But it was him.

His eyes drank in the whole scene. The way you trembled, caught in the act, heat still clinging to your skin like a fever. The fear in your eyes contradicting your open legs. His jaw ticked under the strap of his mouthguard, and you saw his gloved fingers twitch like they were aching to grab you by the throat and tear you to shreds.

And then, voice low, raspy from the cold, dripping with filth that made your cunt clench, “you really di-didn’t call the c-cops, huh?”

He took a step closer.

“You just s-sat he—slut— here. In my f-fucking gift. Rubbing that p-pussy like I wasn’t about to show up and tuh-t-take it for myself.”

Your breath caught, mouth falling open in a strangled sound, some hybrid of embarrassment and arousal and holy fucking shit.

“You got off thinkin’ a-about me, didn’t you?” His eyes flicked down your body, then back up—slow and nasty. “Say it.”

Another step. “Tell me y-you came thinking about m-me breaking in. Tell me you were w-waiting f-for it.”

Your hand twitched again, almost moving back between your legs, and Toby noticed. His laugh was more like a scoff, crooked and giddy in the filth.

“Nasty b-bitch,” he muttered, almost to himself. “God, you’re sick.”

He didn't even lean forward—he lunged, like an animal that never learned the concept of anticipation.

Your wave—your invitation—hit him like a line of coke. He pounced, hands slamming down on the mattress, body dropping between your legs like gravity had lost all patience with him. The bed dipped hard, bounced, and you let out a startled gasp—but it didn’t matter. He was already there. On you. Over you. Caging you in like something that didn’t understand restraint.

Heat rolled off him in thick waves, despite the cold outside. His breath punched out through his mask, harsh and wet. He didn’t touch you—yet—but his hands trembled where they landed, planted beside your thighs like he needed them to keep from shaking apart. His goggles caught the light as his head jerked—sharp and sudden—and his gaze dropped, fixating on the gap in lace exposing your pussy like it was bait.

He made a sound. Low. Unfiltered. Somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

“Ff—fuck,” he rasped. “You were gonna m-make yourself cum in my panties, huh?”

The way he said it—like it physically hurt—made your thighs tense. You opened your mouth to explain, to deny, but nothing came out but breath. Heat and nerves and shame choking up in your throat.

Toby laughed, short and disbelieving. “Didn’t even know th-th-they were mine and you still—fffuckin’—humped ‘em?” His voice cracked awkwardly, every stutter slicing the words open and bleeding them raw. “G-God. Say it. S-Say it was me.”

You stammered, your voice caught halfway between a moan and a laugh, nervous and breathless and trapped. “I—y-yeah, I—fuck, I didn’t know—I mean I didn’t know it was you, but I—”

He groaned, loud and ruined, like your words were jerking him off.

“You didn’t know,” he gasped, licking his lips behind the mask. “Ffffuck, th-that’s worse. You didn’t even know and still—still touched yourself like a f-fucked up whore.”

“I didn’t—fuck, I wasn’t thinking, I just—needed something,” you whimpered, hands curling into the sheets, chest rising and falling like you couldn’t get enough air. “I—I thought maybe if I put them on it’d be like—like I was with someone—”

He surged forward like that simple explanation was enough to make him fold—face burying in the crook of your neck with a desperate, feral moan. His mask scraped your skin. The lenses of his goggles bumped your collarbone. His whole body jerked—tics dragging him forward, making him twitch and spasm like the sheer effort of not devouring you was pain.

“You don’t even know h-how fffucked that is,” he muttered, breath catching. “L-lonely little slut wh—who doesn’t even c-call the cops when some freak breaks in. Just wears the gift and j-jacks off. That it baby? Huh?”

Your hips shifted, trying to meet his, desperately seeking out friction, a gasp catching in your throat. “I didn’t know what to do. I just—”

He snarled against your throat. “You let me in.”

Your hands found his jacket, tugging, dragging him closer like you couldn’t stand not having him all over you. Your fingers fumbled at his zipper, clumsy and feverish.

“You—fuck, y-you want it off?” he asked, voice cracking into disbelief, like the very idea made his brain short-circuit. “You want me?”

You nodded, frantic, and layers hit the floor in seconds. Gloves flung. Jacket peeled off with shaking hands. His chest rose and fell in heaves, scars catching the light—long and pink and brutal, carved across lean muscle that jumped under your gaze.

Then his fingers went to the straps of his mask, and you froze.

Because you didn't know what you expected to be hidden underneath—shit, you barely realized something was even covering his face—but you weren't expecting a deep, torn chunk eaten right through the meat of his cheek, healed but violent, exposing teeth and a glimpse of raw gum.

But his mouth—fuck, his mouth was perfect. Wet. Parted. Red and bitten raw from chewing on it, tongue darting out to lick the corners like he couldn’t help himself.

He didn’t say a word. Just let you look, let you decide—like it made a difference.

And you did. Eyes flicking over the wound, the lips, down to his chest, the aching bulge suffocating under his zipper, back up. Your breath caught and your thighs squeezed together, still open, still on full display. You were fucking soaked.

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “I need your mouth. Now.”

That broke him wide open.

Toby whined—pitiful, breathless—and grabbed your thighs like they were the only thing keeping him alive. His nails bit in. His mouth twitched.

“Yeah? You w-want my fucking tongue on that messy little c-kh-cunt, huh?” he growled. “Gonna let me ruin it? Sit on my ffffuckin’ face? I’ll make you scream so loud I—I’ll get caught, and you won’t even care.”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped, head dropping back. “Yes, fucking do it.”

“Beg for it.”

His hand slammed the mattress beside your head with a spasm sharp enough to shake the bedframe.

“Ff-fuckin’ beg.”

Your whisper cracked with desperation, soaked and shaking. “Please… please, I need your mouth—I’ll do anything, I’ll fucking beg, just—”

His eyes rolled back for a beat, chest shuddering as a ragged, broken groan tore up from deep in his lungs, like it hurt to hear how pretty you could beg. Like whatever pornographic sounds his mind conjured up paled in comparison.

He smashed his mouth to yours, hot and open and so fucking wet. It wasn’t a kiss, not really—he didn’t know how to kiss, he devoured. Tongue everywhere, spit and teeth, sucking your lips into his mouth like he needed to drink you. The sheer noise of it was obscene—slick, sloppy, breathless. Your knees bucked and trembled as he knocked them wider with his forearm, your hands clawing at his bare shoulders while he rutted against your thigh like he was holding back from humping you through his jeans.

“Ffffuckin’—say it again,” he gasped against your mouth, panting like a dog. His voice cracked, stuttered. “Say you want me. S-say you want your fuckin’—your s-s-sick psycho stalker.”

You whimpered, brain melted. “I do—I do—I want you, I want you so fucking bad—”

He snapped—body twitching as his hand flew down and yanked those two skimpy strands of fabric surrounding your pussy until they snapped. Two scarred fingers pressed into the heat of your cunt like they belonged there, spreading you open—and the second he felt how soaked you were, he choked.

“Holy sh-shit,” he breathed, like he was stunned. His jaw ticked. “You’re—you’re dripping, bitch. I haven’t even—I barely t-touched you and you’re drenched."

You moaned into his mouth, thighs clenching around his arm, head falling back to expose your throat—and he just stared down at you, trembling, breath shaking like he was holding in a laugh.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he whispered, and suddenly his voice was lower. Threatening. Talking more to himself than to you. “Goddamn lonely. Letting a freak like m-m-me in your room. I could k-kill you right now and you wouldn’t even get the chance to run.”

Your heart dropped. A real, shivering pulse of terror hit your gut. Your body locked up, breath caught, but two fingers pushed inside before you really had time to fully process his words.

And the panic dissolved into a whimper.

He groaned as he felt you clench around him, tight and wet and sucking him in like you were trying to pull his hand deeper, trembling around the stretch. Your hips jolted up into his palm, shame flushed red across your face as your hands clutched at his arms.

“Oh—f-fuck—”

“Yeah,” he growled, voice cracking, lips twitching in half snarl, half mocking grin. “Y-you like that? You sc-s-scared and still letting me fuck you with my fingers like a d-dog in heat?”

But that wasn’t what he wanted. His fingers slipped out with a wet pop and he groaned like he missed the feel of you already. But then he shoved those same fingers between his lips—sucking them deep, moaning around them like he was starving. Eyes fluttered half-shut as he tasted you, mouth shining with spit and slick.

You barely had time to breathe before he dove down.

Tongue first—hot, thick, flat and immediate, dragging a foul stripe from your hole to your clit. He groaned deep in his throat when you jolted, scarred cheek pressed against your thigh, drool mixing with slick in a way that made your eyes roll back and whatever survival instinct you still had vanish.

His mouth latched onto your clit and sucked, tongue flicking relentless and wet, twitching with little tics that only made it worse, better, crueler. His hands locked around your thighs—tight, bruising grip—and held you open like you belonged to him, nose scrunched against your mound and his spit running down to your ass in strings.

You could only kick your legs uselessly.

“Ffffuck—t-tastes like you missed me,” he slurred into your cunt, voice wrecked and broken and gleeful. His lips slipped against your soaked skin, words barely intelligible. “G-gonna fuckin' eat you alive, gonna—mmfuck—”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, hips rolling into his face, loud and shameless as your moans cracked into the quiet room.

“Wh-what the—fuck—oh my—”

He growled. His tongue jammed inside you, licking you open like he was trying to tunnel into your soul, then back up to your clit, where he sucked again hard, chin soaked, eyes wild.

“You gonna cum already?” he grinned into your pussy, teeth catching your clit ever so slightly with every lick. “G-gonna fuckin’ scream for the ff-freak who’s been jackin’ off with your panties under his p-pillow?”

You cried out. Loud. Raw. Helpless. You were right there, stomach tight, walls trembling, thighs shaking around his head when he popped his mouth off your clit, breath hot and sticky against your cunt, and shoved two fingers back inside with no ceremony. Curling them knuckle-deep like he was trying to hook behind your bones, dragging that spot so deep and tender it made your entire body jerk.

Then, with his lips brushing your slick, throbbing clit, he mouthed into you like a threat.

“Say my name, bitch.”

Your jaw dropped, a high, warbled moan catching in your throat as your hands grabbed at the sheets.

“I—I—I don’t—fuck—I don’t know it—”

And he ripped his fingers out, hand soaked to the wrist, only to bring it down across your cunt in a wet crack.

Your whole body seized, a strangled scream bursting from your mouth—shock, pain, heat flooding through you all at once. It stung like fire, too hard, too fast—like he had no clue how strong he was—but you didn’t even have time to reel before he leaned in and kissed your pussy where he’d hit it. Soft, messy, tender.

Didn’t help.

Didn’t matter.

“Toby. S-Say it.”

Your whole body jerked, cunt clenching around nothing as your eyes flew open, lips parting with a whimper so desperate it sounded like prayer.

"Toby—Toby, please, c'mon, just—”

“That’s it,” he hissed, voice warping at the edges with something animal. “K-Keep fuckin' sayin' it, baby.”

Satisfied, his fingers were back. Shoved in to the hilt, curling fast and relentless, fucking up into that sweet spot with punishing speed while his mouth latched onto your clit again like he was trying to suck your soul through it. His moans were shameless, loud and snarling, tongue flicking, chin soaked, breath shuddering through his nose as he devoured you.

Your body snapped with a gasp—froze—then convulsed, crying out his name as your cunt clenched and spasmed around his fingers. Your thighs shook, your hips bucked wildly, wet gushes spurting around his fingers and drenching the sheets under your ass, his arm, his mouth.

He groaned like it knocked the wind out of him.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered, voice half gone, still licking through it like he was wringing you out. “Knew you'd be a f-filthy f-fucking slut for me."

You were left twitching, flat on your back, trembling all over and soaked in sweat and spit and squirt, one leg hanging off the bed and the other bent up from where he’d folded you open, pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks.

You barely even noticed him move. Just felt the scrape of his teeth on your thigh, the way he bit his way up to your knee with animal heat in his breath—eyes bugging and fixed on your face, chest heaving, hands tugging open his jeans so rough the zipper snapped open. He kicked them off clumsily and launched them halfway off the bed like they were a personal offense.

The wet, heavy smack of his cock hitting the mess between your legs snapped your attention back. Toby was leering down at you, eyes blown wide and hungry, lips parted, breath shaking as he pressed one of your thighs up, pinned it to the mattress with his palm, and threw your other leg over his shoulder to open you up and fold you like a beloved toy.

His cock—thick, flushed, leaking and twitching—dragged through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit just enough to make your hips jerk.

"Y-you want it? Huh? You want this dick? After everything I fuckin’ did to you?”

Your breath caught, eyes wide and glassy. He leaned in over you, pressing his cock against your slit, grinding just enough to tease, enough to make your mouth drop open with a whine.

You nodded. Too fast. Too eager. “Y-yeah. Yeah—I want it—fuck—please, Toby, please—”

He pushed in, slow, inch by inch, teeth bared as your cunt gripped him—tight, soaked, vacuuming around him like you were trying to suck the meat off his dick. His arms shook, jaw clenched, eyes rolled back for a second as he bottomed out, torn between making this last—to savor every clench and throb after surviving off the thought of it for months—and needing to fuck you within an inch of your life.

“…God, you're just lettin’ me ff-fuck you? Just like that? Just—fuckin’—goddamn—” He breathed hard, nostrils flaring, his whole body trembling with restraint. “I could f-fuckin’ cry.”

He snapped his hips back and slammed forward, the first thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs. No rhythm, no warning—just piston-fire force, his hips crashing into you, bed screeching with every slam. One hand clamped down around your throat—just to hold you still, thumb brushing your chin as you moaned open-mouthed and raw.

Your hands clawed at his arms, his back, his hair, anything you could reach, mindless with the stretch, the pound of it, the filthy wet slap of skin on skin and the obnoxious slam of the headboard denting the wall behind.

“Fuckin’ knew you’d tuh-t-take it like this,” he grunted, drool on his lip, sweat dripping from his temples, eyes wild. “L-Lonely fuckin' skank… so fuckin’ desperate, you let your fuckin’ stalker in—let me eat you out, let me fuck you—sh-shit—”

Your cunt clamped around him.

“Ohhh my fuckin’ god—do that again—do that a-again and I’ll fuckin' b-break you—I’ll cum so deep you’ll be pissin’ m-me out tomorrow—”

The second your back arched up off the sheets, trying to keep up with the brutal rhythm of his thrusts, Toby’s hands were everywhere. Tits bouncing as he grabbed them in both hands, rough and greedy, mouth latching onto one nipple with a desperate, snarling suck, free palm slapping down over the other, squeezing so tight you whimpered, your legs kicking weakly beside his waist.

"Fuckin’—god, you’re perfect, you—ffuck, these tits, shit—” he slurred around your skin, drooling down your chest, tongue dragging across your tits while he humped against you.

He was losing it. Could barely finish his sentences, just panting and stuttering and grinding into you, overwhelmed. His whole body shaking with restraint he didn’t have, already teetering on the edge. But he couldn't have that. He couldn't end it now, when you were drooling and tearing up and his.

So he pulled out and moved—rough, hurried, no warning—with a snarl that tore through your daze like a serrated knife. Hands snatching at your waist, yanking you up like a ragdoll, flipping you onto your stomach and shoving your face into the pillows as he hauled your hips up with both hands.

You yelped—surprised, breathless, a little laugh punching out of you on instinct.

“W-Wait, give me a s—"

“Sh-shut up,” he barked, voice all gravel and desperation, slapping your ass so hard it rippled. “J-just—stay right there, fuck—stay like that—”

He climbed over you, thighs bracketing yours, one boot planting into the mattress next to your calf as he lifne hand hooked into your waist to keep you impaled, the other palming your ass, slapping it again, fingers pressing into the dip of your lower back to force the arch deeper. Then in your hair, yanking your head back so you had to look over your shoulder as he sank back in with a guttural groan.

“L-Look at me— Look at who's t-tuh-t-FUCK, tearing this pussy up."

The wall behind the bed didn't stand a fucking chance. Paint chipping and flying off like it was being hit with a hammer. His hips slapping into your ass, hand clutching your hair tight enough to burn your scalp as he rutted into you from behind like he was trying to climb inside. You were wailing into the sheets, jaw dropped, tongue out, drooling into the pillow while he made you take every inch over and over again.

“D-didn’t stalk you f-for months for some soft shit,” he grunted, cock buried to the hilt, “w-wanted this—wanted to see you like this, fuckin’ s-stupid, moaning on my dick like a f-f-fucked up nympho, all wet and messy and—fuckin’ m-mine. All m-mine.”

You couldn’t even answer, couldn't even think twice about what he said. Just babbled, breath hitching, tears streaking down your cheeks from how hard he hit that spot inside you, every thrust like a punch to the gut.

Toby whined when you clenched up—when your pussy milked him, fluttering around his cock like your body was begging to be bred—and his voice cracked when he hissed through his teeth. “Cum-cumming again, slut? Fffuck yes, come— Come on t-this fuckin' dick—”

It slammed into you like a fucking car crash.

No warning. No build. Just white-hot, bone-deep release that made your whole body seize and flutter, sobs punched out of you from the inside as your cunt clenched hard around his cock. You twitched—hard, full-body, legs buckling underneath you as he kept your hips up, kept pounding, riding you through the quake like some unchained beast.

And you were crying and grinning, in some fucked-up mix of bliss and madness—head spinning, tears in your eyes, drool on the pillow from how your mouth hung open, panting, trying to form a thought, any thought.

It'd been so long. So fucking long since someone touched you like this. Since someone made you feel like this. Your brain tried to hold onto it but your body was short-circuiting, curling in on itself, torn between wanting more and being too overwhelmed to take one more push.

That’s when his hand came down—slow, dragging from your waist to your head. His fingers swept your hair aside, thumb brushing your jaw, then slipped down until it found the corner of your mouth.

You blinked up at him over your shoulder, still gasping, tears glistening. His lip twitched in a snarl—eyes burning, chest heaving—and he shoved his thumb into your mouth, deep and filthy.

“Suck,” he rasped. His voice cracked. “Get it wet, baby—c'mon."

You whined around it, lips wrapping tight, suckling instinctively, hollowing your cheeks—and he moaned, hips stuttering. His thumb popped free, spit trailing off the knuckle, and he immediately slid it down between your ass cheeks.

You barely got out a breathless little “wait—!” before it was in, his thumb pressing past the rim of muscle—slippery with your spit, buried to the root in your ass—and your vision blurred. Your back arched, your body twitched, everything locking up all over again, cunt gushing around his cock with a sudden squirt.

He fucking lost it.

Toby let out a shattered, broken noise—half sob, half snarl—and his hips snapped forward one final time, so vicious it made you slide forward and knock your head into the headboard. Cock pulsing deep, balls tight, and you felt it flooding you—every rope of cum, every twitch, every grind.

And he collapsed. Heavy like his bones were made of tungsten, weight pressing you down, face smushed into the sweaty curve of your spine, mouth open against your back. You felt his tongue—lazily licking at the salt-slick skin there, huffing like he’d run a marathon, muttering breathless curses into your ribs. Basking in it.

“Fffuck—fuck, oh my God,” he groaned. “Y-you—you feel that, baby? Th-that’s mine, you’re mine, this pussy—fuck...”

You were twitching, still limp under him, breath fogging the pillow in short, shattered puffs. He hadn’t moved, not really, just laying there draped over you like a heat-struck dog, panting into the dip of your spine. His cock still pulsed, softening where it was buried deep inside, every flutter of your cunt making his breath hitch and grin against your skin.

He dragged his teeth across your shoulder—slow, blunt little scrapes that made you shiver—then pressed his mouth to the spot and kissed it sweet and wet. Down your spine, to the curve of your waist. Another bite. Another kiss.

"F-fuckin' beautiful," he muttered, more to himself than you, hands sliding over your ass, kneading where you were sore, where he'd gripped too hard.

He slipped out, and you gasped at the sudden emptiness—whined, actually—left slick and gaping and leaking. His cum, already dribbling down the backs of your thighs in thick strings, stretching between you before they broke.

"H-holy shit, baby," he breathed, sitting back on his haunches, hands spreading your ass cheeks open just to watch.

"Look at this shit," he murmured, voice dipping into a low purr, his grin vile.

He leaned in to kiss your lower back, trailing down to your ass, mouthing warm, lazy kisses across the bruises he’d left. You shuddered, overstimulated and dizzy, still pressed into the pillow, and he laughed—softly, like he adored you.

“Y'gonna m-miss me, angel? Hm?” he whispered, nosing along the swell of your hip, breath ghosting warm over spit-slick skin. “Gonna miss bein’ f-full like this?”

You gave a broken little sound—something between a whimper and a laugh—and he smiled against your skin, all teeth.

“Y-you’re not lonely anymore, baby,” he whispered. “M'not goin' anywhere."

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rainrot4me · 8 months ago

Text

My Muse - Halloween Special

Summary: What if the Creepypasta characters were real life killers idolized the same way horror movie slashers were? Kids dressing up as Ghostface or Pennywise? More like kids decorated as Jeff the Killer or Slenderman! You chose to dress as your favorite mass murderer, Ticci Toby- and, oh, how he couldn’t get enough of it. He had never seen someone look so good in his goggles.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Vaginal, fluff and smut, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, use of a condom, slight stalking, slight obsession, praise, alcohol, slight bullying, Jeff being a big brother, slight miscommunication, slight panic attacks, decompression, Toby is obsessive but we knew that, first time?

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 12k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! This work is based off of @h3llw1’s request made a while ago that I felt fit perfectly with a good spooky special! I will tag the request! Please be responsible and have fun tonight and this weekend!

Find the original request for this story here!

“Wait, so… Who are you dressed up as, again?”

You shuffled the goggles off of your eyes, pushing them onto your forehead and messing into your hair, turning back to your friend.

“Toby Rogers- y’know, that kid who burned all those houses down? Serial killer, dude.” You smiled awkwardly, turning back to your vanity mirror and pressing the makeup brush against your cheek, trying to recreate the infamous cheek gash in the image you had pulled up. You were almost done, detailing the fake teeth at the corner of your lips. “Was really obsessed with him in middle school…”

“Oh, right.” Your roommate, Avery, rolled her eyes, curling the strands of her hair into big voluptuous rolls, making sure each piece looked nice under her hat. She was supposed to be Strawberry Shortcake, you think, it was hard to tell with how little she was wearing of the actual costume. It was really more of a bikini topped off with a strawberry hat.

“You’re still planning on going to AJ’s party, right?” She chirped, flipping the curling iron off and lying it on the counter, reaching back to grab her phone. You paused, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror- your costume really wasn’t the ‘AJ’s party’ type. You turned around in your chair, a little overwhelmed with how messy your bedroom floor was, but promising yourself you would clean it up later tonight.

“Uh, sure- If you guys are still going.” Avery tapped away at her phone, your own lighting up with text messages to your group chat sent by her. You were waiting on the rest of her friends, some people she had become close with in her classes.

It would be fun… you hoped.

“Oh, they’re here.” Stepping out of your room, you followed her to the front door, making sure your makeup looked good in the mirror. Standing on your front step, the rest of the group was there, chittering their excitement as Avery swung the door wide.

You stood awkwardly as they all hugged, complimenting each other on their matching costumes- the other two girls were supposed to be Orange Blossom and Blueberry Muffin, but they more or less matched with Avery’s.

They each had a guy with them, the tallest one wrapping his arm around your roommate’s shoulder, the Ghostface costume he had on making her all giggly. You cringed, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie you had stitched to look like Toby’s, the stripes on your sleeves were the hardest part.

“Oh! This is my roommate [Y/N], she’s gonna come with us tonight.” You nodded, giving a small wave as they all turned to you. Brushing your hair behind your ear, they all smiled sweetly, but you could tell they were a little put off by the outfit you were wearing.

“Ah, what’re you dressed up as?” The Ghostface guy chuckled, shuffling his mask up to get a better look.

“Oh- uhm, Toby Rogers? Like, that serial killer. Yeah.” None of them had a clue, you could see it in the weird glances they cast at one another. Avery waved them off, jingling through her keys to pull the door shut and locking it behind you. “We should get going, I don’t wanna miss anyone.”

Nodding, everyone began to walk down the hallway of your apartment building, the guys carrying six-packs of beer under their arms. Sighing, you followed behind, taking the fabric mask from under your chin and pulling it over your mouth.

You would try to have fun tonight, you swore it.

“Listen, kid, if you don’t hurry up I’m leaving you here.”

Jeff crossed his arms, a scowl on his face as he watched poor Sally try and adjust her costume. Toby shoved him, kneeling beside her and reaching back to tie the little bow around her waist, casting a nasty look at the killer.

She was dressed as Annabelle, the creepy dress splattered with fake blood, making the real blood pooling from her forehead look like nothing more than some face paint. Her hair was tied into two neat little braids, Nina’s doing. Sally turned to look at herself in the reflection of EJ’s truck- Jeff had stolen it for the night, claiming he wasn’t going to walk all the way into town just for some candy. She finally nodded, holding her little basket tight in her hands.

This was her first Halloween, with Jeff of all people, so she was a little anxious. The killer, on the other hand, found this holiday to be his favorite. He could waltz the streets of the small town closest to the mansion, hood down and everything, snagging as much candy and compliments as he wanted. People really admired his ‘makeup.’

Toby decided to tag along this year, curious to see all the costumes and jack-o-lanterns. He really loved this night as a kid, he wanted to make sure it was good for Sally, too.

“I’m ready now.” She hummed, skipping forward to wrap her hand around Jeff’s hoodie sleeve, the killer rolling his eyes as he began to walk. Toby followed behind, admiring the decorations and darkly colored leaves littering the ground, a surge of excitement coursing through him. It felt just like one of those older scary movies, the sun dipping just low enough to cast an orangish hue across the clouds, kids running around giggling and screaming, parents tossing out candy left and right- he missed this feeling, what it was like to be normal.

He was older now, officially ‘candy handing-out’ age. He used to relish these days, promising that he would dress up for Halloween until he was sixty- now he had much more important things to worry about than what costume he was going to wear. If only his younger self knew how much of a genuine horror his life would become.

“C’mon, twitch, I ain’t waitin’ on you, too,” Jeff called, snapping Toby out of his trance as he watched kids race across the road, some mother yelling about being careful. He nodded, pushing his mask up over his nose, shimmying his goggles off of his forehead and over his eyes. He was still too paranoid to go outright, the covers made him feel more secure, like fewer people’s eyes were boring into him. He felt that swell of anxiety, having to remind himself that people would be far more concerned with Jeff’s look than his. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he took a deep breath- he had to calm down.

He wouldn’t lose himself tonight, he swore it.

“Wh- What’d you get?” Toby helped carry Sally’s basket, the thing nearly overflowing with how much she was getting, everyone was loving her costume. They were nearly done with this neighborhood, but Jeff heard some kids yelling about a Baptist church’s trunk-or-treat, and he was more than excited to show up somewhere holy. It was getting late, the sun almost nearly disappeared, so Toby knew it was almost time to wrap things up.

“Lots’a chocolate. Jeff keeps stealing the good stuff, though.” Glancing up, the killer was popping a tiny box of nerds into his mouth, tossing the cardboard onto someone’s yard when he shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got like, six more of ‘em- you’ll be fine, squirt.”

It was turning out a lot better than Toby had thought, the brunette’s worries nearly washed away as the night grew more crowded. Jeff had spotted some middle-schooler dressed as Slenderman, the killer nearly doubling over in laughter as Toby hauled his phone out to take a picture. The brunette had forgotten just how popular their boss really was, more of an internet spectacle than folklore now. A meme? Yeah, his big scary boss was a meme. Tim and Brian were going to get a crack out of it.

Teenagers were out now, older kids walking in packs with their friends, not so much worried about getting candy as they were trying to hide the alcohol they were carrying. Toby had forgotten just how much different Halloween was when you got older- girls dressed in skimpy outfits of cartoon characters, guys trying to play cool as some movie slasher chasing everyone around, and then you had the ones who just didn’t dress up at all. It was weird.

“Damn, when did Strawberry Shortcake lose the baker getup and start wearing lingerie?” Jeff snickered, crossing his arms and nodding towards a group across the street. Toby scanned them, the orangish tint of his goggles obscuring them, but he could easily make out who the killer was talking about. He gave the rest of the pack a once-over, their outfits more or less the same as guys clung to their hips, flirty little touches as they all walked.

He almost missed it though, the one in the middle of the group, unaccompanied. Jeff must’ve seen it at the same time because he was slapping Toby’s arm like crazy.

“Oh fuck, isn’t that supposed to be you?” Toby shoved his goggles off of his face, ruffling them into his bangs just like how you had them, looking utterly bored as your group quickly began to get out of his eyesight. The brunette looked down at himself, wearing that same hoodie that every popular image depicted him in, the stripes on his sleeves the telltale sign. There was no mistaking it, you were dressed up as him.

The brunette didn’t know how to feel, didn’t even really know what to say as Jeff’s teasing went unheard beside him. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, couldn’t stop his hands from flexing and fidgeting with utter excitement.

He had to get a better look at you.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Jeff yelled across the road, Toby shoving the candy basket into the killer’s hands and jogging in the direction your friends were going.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later! Don’t wa- wait up!”

He disappeared into another block, Jeff letting out an exasperated sigh as he took Sally’s hand. “C’mon, kid. We’ve got some Baptists to freak out.”

It was already loud inside the house, music thumping against the walls as people tried to shout to hear one another.

You hung against the wall of the living room, sipping slowly on whatever alcohol-filled punch they were serving in the kitchen. People were spilling out everywhere, the front yard just as busy as the rest of the rooms of AJ’s house.

It was barely even 9 PM, but nearly everyone from your school was here, familiar faces passing by with glances or cheesy small talk. Avery and her friends had disappeared into the crowd near the speakers, couples dancing and talking with one another, the pulsing neon lights, cheers following every finished game of beer pong, and the atmosphere heavy with vodka and laughter. It was nice, a little overwhelming, but nice.

You could feel the buzz in the back of your head, the tipsy dizziness you held making it a little easier to relax, the music swaying your hips gently.

You couldn’t see through the crowd, but Toby rested his shoulders back on the wall across from you, tapping his fingers across his thigh as he surveyed the crowd. He didn’t even have a drink, awkwardly trying to pretend like he was supposed to be here amongst the buzzed-out college kids.

He had followed you there, staying a comfortable distance behind your group and out of your curious eyes. It was hard not to notice the way your eyes lingered on the houses you passed, smiling at the kids who ran by, and pointing out the overzealous house decorations. You really stood out from your group, a sore thumb from the rest of them.

What was he doing? Why was he even here? Following some girl because she was dressed as him? Toby knew he was popular, Ben reminding him every time some new post went up on the internet trying to debunk his whereabouts. It didn’t bother him, with his job came weirdos who idolized him- he had just never seen it in person before.

It really was surreal.

“Oh my god.”

Toby shot up, straightening as he looked to his side, panic sweeping over him.

Lost in his thoughts and the rush of the party, he hadn’t noticed you pushing to his side of the room, shuffling past to get back into the kitchen for more of whatever you were drinking. You had your mask tugged down under your chin, the facepaint on the left side of your cheek standing out against your flushed cheeks. You even had torn tissue paper to make it look realistic- God, he was going to freak out.

Holding your hands out, you look down at yourself and then at him, comparing your almost identical outfits with a bright smile. “Nice costume, man.”

Of course, you were cute. He was trying to register you, eyes flinching across your sweet face smiling up at him.

Toby teetered, shoulder flinching just enough to make you glance, but not enough to take the excitement away from your face. He also realized he was just staring and not saying anything- “Oh! Yea- Yeah, hah-” The cool metal of his mask pressed against his cheeks, staring oddly at the fabric one you had.

“Oh damn, you’ve got like- the legit facemask. I just got mine from Spirit, it’s pretty crappy.” You laughed to yourself, holding the solo cup awkwardly in your hands, fidgeting with the lid. Toby immediately regretted his decision, wracking through his brain for some way to get out of here- he forgot how painful small talk was. “I didn’t know anybody else even knew who Ticci Toby was.”

God, that nickname. The play on words was supposed to be funny, but its holder didn’t think it was all that humorous. He smiled at you anyway; there was just something about the way you said it, all giddy.

“Ah, yeah. Mine’s pre- pretty old.” He was fidgeting again, unprepared for how you snuck up on him. “I, uhm, tried my best. Haven’t re- really dressed up in a while.” You complimented him heftily, pointing out the ‘fake’ dirt and blood stains across his hoodie, the great quality of his goggles, and even how he got his makeup to that weird milky-gray skin color. To you, it was just a very well-done costume.

“No, I get it. I don’t usually go all out like this,” Looking down at yourself, you put on sort of a blush, nervous chirping about how niche it was. Toby couldn’t help but smile. “I just have always really loved his story, so I wanted to make one of my last Halloween’s memorable, y’know?” Ah, candy-handing-out age. A million thoughts ran in the brunette’s mind, but he found himself relaxing again, shoulder pressed onto the wall as you rambled. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who likes him.”

With you, this close, cheery little features continuing to blab on about the rest of the small details of your own costume, he couldn’t help but find himself listening so intently. A fan? Is that what you were? It felt weird to think about it like that, but the brunette found himself blushing at the thought of an admirer.

“-And I fringed the bottom of his hoodie with a lighter. It was hard to get it to look right, but I really liked how it came out. Y’know, for like him burning his house and stuff- I thought it was a nice detail.” Toby was nodding along, surprised by the little burn holes near the pockets of your lookalike hoodie, the attention to detail far more than he was expecting. “That’s really cool, uh-”

“[Y/N].”

“Uh- Toby.” Was that going to give it away-

“Even got the name down too, huh? Man, I see why you dressed up as him- you fit everything to a T.” He relaxed, your obliviousness laughable, but also a heavy relief.

People brushed by, bumping into both of your shoulders and shimmying their way through. You refocused again, pointing back over your shoulder with a shy smile. “Would you, uh, wanna get some more to drink? I was going anyway-”

Woah- You were inviting him to hang out longer? He was about to refuse, come up with some weird excuse to get back to Jeff and Sally, but the way you gleamed up at him, flashing lights and overstimulating music, it felt so odd.

He was going to let himself give in. He was wearing a ‘costume’ after all, so why not play up the act and enjoy himself a little bit? Slender would have him out running these woods by tomorrow, so why not just take the night and at least pretend like he was still a normal kid? Like all those bad things never happened, being a proxy never happened… He was just a kid who grew up, spending Halloween how normal teenagers did now. Yeah, he was going to let himself have this one night if nothing else.

Toby nodded, pushing off of the wall as you led the way, pushing through the mess of wildly dressed people into the kitchen. Behind you, now, Toby could see the way you still stood out amongst everyone, odd glances being cast in your direction. Just like him, almost, a freak in a sea of hateful eyes. You get it.

“I don’t really know what this stuff is, but it tastes pretty good.” You laugh, flipping the nozzle of the jug holding whatever concoction was mixed with red Kool-Aid, pouring some into two cups. You handed it to Toby, the brunette awkwardly swirling the liquid around with a nervous stare. You giggled at him, wrapping your hand around the sleeve of his hoodie, and guiding him out the back door and onto the patio.

The atmosphere was much calmer than inside, the muffled thumping of whatever song was playing giving a nice rhythmic atmosphere as you sat on top of the stairs leading out into the backyard. You both watched friends and couples dare each other to jump into the pool, the chilly autumn air guiding you to believe the water wasn’t much warmer. Toby sat next to you, mask still snug on his face, revealing nothing for your curious mind.

“So, Toby, what’re you doing here?” You sipped lightly on the drink, contrasting flavors of vodka swirling in the fruity punch, the sting of alcohol making you cringe. Toby hesitated, still tapping his fingers on the side of the plastic cup, trying his best to calm his rushing nerves.

“Uhm- well, y’know… Halloween par- party stuff…” Even though you had taken notice of his stutter ages ago, you forcefully ignored it. You knew better than anyone about nerves, you didn’t want the poor guy to feel any worse about it. Still, his answer made you laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” You smile as he shakes his head, leaning back to glance up at the sky, the moon hanging bright and casting a milky glow across the clouds. Toby really enjoyed it when it was like this, made it easier to see where he was going at night. “That’s alright, I don’t really belong here, either.” You enjoyed the moon because it was pretty. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“How come?” Toby leaned back, too, kicking his legs out as he relaxed, easing into the conversation. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I only came because my roommate invited me, I didn’t really want to come. These things aren’t really my deal.” You took another sip, Toby taking in every inch of your face, studying every detail as you spoke. “I would’ve much rather gone trick-or-treating. I guess we’re all a little too old for that now, though, huh?”

The breeze ruffled your hair, wrapping your knees in tight against your chest as the air chilled you. Toby caught himself admiring- it was almost like you were wearing his hoodie, the top just a little oversized on you- he could imagine it. “Nah, I used to love it. Wish it wasn’t we- weird to go when you got a certain age like there’s a time lim- limit on when you can ask for candy.” He smiled, flinching his leg a little.

Toby felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, leaning over to dig it out, flipping the screen up to see a text message from Jeff.

“wtf r u?????” “party. dont wait up.” “😡🖕🙄”

Just to make sure, Toby shared his location with the killer, flipping his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.

You gave him a sideways glance, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. “You haven’t even drank anything- at least try it. It’s not all that bad.” Clearly, considering you were throwing the cup back to finish off presumably your second glass.

Toby awkwardly cupped his hand onto the metal of his mask, sliding it down below his chin. Thankfully, he had remembered to get EJ to redo the bandages on the corner of his mouth, the gaudy wound becoming irritating to deal with. He wishes it was just cool makeup like yours.

Taking a sip from the cup, he cringed, brows knotting as he shut his eyes. “God- That’s like- straight vodka with fru- fruit syrup- Fuck-” It burned his tongue, your laughter so sweet beside him, resting your hand on his shoulder. He made a funny face, fake gagging on the terrible thing.

He sat straight when you gasped, cupping your hands onto his cheeks and turning his head forcefully. His instincts kicked, hands flexing to grab at you, to slam you down across the pavement below-

Until you were rubbing your thumb across his bandages gently, flattening out the ends that had become soiled with dried blood. Toby forced himself to relax, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. No one usually got this close- touched him- unless they were clawing for their life. It was like a whiplash, having to condition himself differently for your ignorance.

“Dude, no way you’ve been hiding these all night! Fuck, even these look real- how in the world are you so good at dressing up?” You were taking in every detail of his face, assuming the scars across his lips and cheekbones were merely good makeup skills or a talented friend, Toby trying his best not to freak out with you this close.

You seemed to notice it too, because you were snapping your hands back, eyes blowing wide-

“Shit- sorry- I get real excited about these things… The drinks probably aren’t helping either.” You chuckled, awkwardly sitting back and tucking your knees against your chest, silently cursing yourself for making him uncomfortable with your weird obsession. Toby noticed it, immediately catching the switch-up in your attitude.

Holding his palm out, he levels it in front of you, catching your attention. “I’ve, uhm, got the weird hand bandages, too.” He sheepishly smiled, watching as you slowly lit up again, taking his hand between your own.

“No way…” You picked at the medical wrap clinging around his hand, little bandaids and medical tape snugged tight around his fingers to hide the terrible bite marks and scars he had given himself, that gaudy proxy symbol etched into his flesh. He wanted to compliment your makeup, to say something about how realistic it looked-

Until you both heard a piercing scream from across the patio.

“Tyler!”

Snapping your gaze to the noise, you watched as a tall jockey guy hauled a tiny blonde girl over his shoulders, taking two heavy steps before he jumped into the pool, dragging her along with him. Toby was concerned but was quickly caught off guard when you began to laugh, slapping his arm.

“Avery! Are you okay?!” The other girls on the side of the pool knelt down beside the water, reaching their arms out to help the poor girl back onto solid land. They quickly had a towel wrapped around her, and the guy, Tyler, hopped up onto the side, high-fiving the similar-looking guys accompanying them.

You were still laughing, Toby smiling even when the girl came over to the steps, hurriedly trying to get back inside.

“Ah- [Y/N]? Who’s this?” Your roommate gave Toby a once-over, casting a sideways glance as she noticed you both were wearing the same outfit.

“Uh, This is Toby- we’re dressed as the same thing, see?” You were all cheery, smiling up at her even as she dripped water everywhere. Toby recognized them now, the skimpy group you were walking with, the ones who left you alone almost immediately after getting to the party. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt you, but the brunette had seen it all, catching every time you longingly stared at them through the crowd- the way you still did now.

“Right… Well, I’m glad you guys found each other,” You could hear the sarcasm in her voice, her friends hanging behind her and giving you both funny looks, whispering to one another as she talked. Toby knew you noticed it, too. You were pressing your knees against your chest again, shriveling up into yourself. “Look, we’re leaving. Probably going to finish the night out at some bars if you want to head on back to the apartment.”

You began to nod, giving Toby a half-glance of defeat, taking your empty cup in hand as you began to stand up.

“Uh- Ac- Actually, we’re going trick-or-treating. So, don’t wa- wait up.” Toby stared daggers into the girl, unapologetically snagging your hand in his as he stood, taking his cup in hand. Avery watched him with a sour look, glancing back and forth between you two before stepping up the rest of the stairs. “You two have fun, then. Freaks.”

She definitely said the last part louder than she meant to, because her friends were giggling as they trailed behind her, quickly scuttling into the crowded house. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let it show, but the pang in your chest was heavy.

Toby looked at you, took a firm grip on the solo cup, and closed his eyes. You watched with bright eyes as he chugged the rest, throat burning as he groaned, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. You smiled, forgetting that your hand was still tucked neatly into his as you both raced off the patio, pushing through the fence gate, and climbing out onto the road. The street lights were on now, kids dwindling as houses stopped handing out candy, but Toby was determined to get you some.

“Are we actually trick-or-treating?” You laughed, Toby dragging you along with him, pulling his mask back up and over his nose. “Dude, we’re like, totally too old for this stuff, now-”

“And? Just cause I’m older doesn’t me- mean I stopped loving candy.” He hollered. You clung against his side, the breeze pushing through your hair and giving your nose a cute little blush, eyes bright with excitement as you gripped his hand tighter. You tugged your own mask up, shimmying your plastic goggles off of your head and over your eyes, completing the entire look. Toby stalled, heart whirling in his chest as you raced down the sidewalk, excitement buzzing in the air.

Jeff was going to kill him, but it would be worth it.

“Trick or treat!”

You held out a plastic Walmart bag, the thing nearly busting with how many pieces of candy it was holding. You both had meant to stop five houses ago, but when you somehow wound up in the nicer neighborhood four blocks over, you couldn’t pass up the full-size candy bars they were giving out.

The tipsiness was really hitting now, you both holding onto one another as concerned glances from parents dumping the rest of their candy into your bag. You always hated those obnoxious people who laughed or talked too loud in public, but now, you found yourself doubling over, cackling at the mean comments Toby was dishing out to little kids’ costumes.

“Tha- That’s supposed to be Spiderman? Yeesh.” It wasn’t even that funny, but you nearly hit your knees from lack of air, laughing so hard that your chest was hurting. Toby’s eyes were heavy, neck jerking and body twitching from the overstimulation, his cheeks a rosy color from the swirl of alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Okay, okay,” You raised up, catching your breath as you leaned against his arm, the rusty smell of his cologne surrounding you. “I think if we get any more- hic- we’re gonna be picking all of it up off the ground.” You pointed at the sack, the plastic stretching and threatening to bust out everywhere. Toby nodded, reaching in and snagging a Hershey’s kiss, popping the sweet chocolate into his mouth. You acted offended, holding the bag close as you both laughed.

The streets were nearly empty now, most of the houses’ lights being turned off and decorations unplugged, the only sign of activity from cars driving by or random groups of kids racing back home to review their hauls. You could feel your own room calling to you, your intoxication pulsing sleepiness into your mind.

Toby noted when you yawned, taking that as a silent sign that the night was ending, preparing to part ways with you. He nearly reached back into his pocket, going to give Jeff a call to come pick him up.

“Wanna go back to my place?”

He paused, your heavy eyes grinning up at him.

“Uh- What?” He could feel himself blushing. Was it just the vodka? He hoped so.

“Well, I ain’t gonna eat all of this by myself. Besides, I’m not trusting myself to get back without crashing out in a bush somewhere.” Toby laughed, rolling his eyes as you waited for his answer, shifting your weight nervously. You smiled when he nodded, your arm quickly wrapping around his and dragging him down the rest of the street.

Reaching over, he took the bag of candy from your hands, stuffing it under his arm. You walked slowly, taking in the dulled-out character inflatables and oversized skeletons in people’s yards, pointing out the Spirit Halloween animatronics that you found so cool. He couldn’t help but find himself staring, encapsulated with you. You found such beauty in what everyone else found offputting, admiring what even he would call strange.

“You’re so weird.” He huffed with a grin.

You glanced up at him, rolling your eyes. “You like it.”

Toby couldn’t find a good answer, turning his attention back to the street lights out front. He did like it.

“So, I never asked about you- Like, really. What do you do when you’re not wearing the best Toby Rogers cosplay ever?” Toby glanced at you, stalling out mentally as he tried to come up with something.

“Uh, I travel a lo- lot. Kinda like an on-call thing. Uhm… Yeah.” You nodded along, but the brunette wasn’t entirely sure you were hearing what he was saying. You were just looking at him, eyelids hanging low as you took in every detail of his face. He smiled, reaching his free hand to tug your mask down under your chin, your sly grin hidden underneath.

“Tell me abo- about you, [Y/N]. What is Ms. Rogers doing when she’s not ob- obsessing over me?”

Toby paused, a dead stare into your eyes as he choked on his words. He slipped up- Did you notice, would you care? He could feel the panic rising in his chest, jerks twinging at the back of his neck, anxiety swelling-

“Woah, easy tiger-” You’re giggling, pushing the strands of hair that fell in your face when you did an unbalanced little bow. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of such a celebrity.”

Toby was already relaxing, shoulders untensing faster than they wound, trying his best to settle his shaky hands. “But, I don’t know. I’m in between jobs? School?” You fidgeted with your hands, your arm still wrapped tightly around his. The weight was comforting. “I’m only still here because it’s where I grew up, but I don’t know what I’m doin’ now…” Your stare was distant, fidgeting with the fabric of his sleeve as you talked.

He was about to say something, trying to muster up some affirming speech that Tim used to tell him when things got rough. But you were tugging him off of the sidewalk, skipping towards some apartment complex building. “We’re hereee…”

He followed you through the neat hallways, the stout smell of clean and tacky air fresheners strong on the brightly colored carpet. Toby didn’t know if he had ever been in a place so nice, dozens of doors lining everywhere you went, feeling like he could get lost if you weren’t dragging him into an elevator.

Pressing your floor button, he leaned back against the brassy walls, your hands rummaging through your pockets and hauling out a set of keys. Cute little keychains were hooked onto the loop, reaching back into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the screen.

“Here, smile-” You were leaning back against him, holding your hand high in the air to take a selfie, Toby grinning goofily up into the camera. Looking over the picture, you smiled, never moving off of his shoulder as the elevator took you up, Toby’s heart soaring much higher.

“How many of those are you going to eat?” You gasped, tossing another Skittles wrapper onto your floor, adding to the mess that you swore you were going to clean up.

Alternatively, you were lying on your back, laid out on your even messier bed, stuffing your face with possibly the most unhealthy amounts of sweets. Toby sat on the floor, his back pressed against your footboard, rummaging his hands through the sack and tossing pieces up to you.

He looks really good in just a t-shirt, you thought, catching yourself staring at his toned shoulders.

“As many as I want.” He grinned, popping another jawbreaker into his mouth. Your twin pairs of goggles and masks lay scattered on the floor, hoodies bunched at his feet. Toby was in bliss, the sweet smell of your perfume and clothes soaked in all around him, pieces of you everywhere he looked. Posters of your favorite bands, corkboard full of keychains and polaroids, even your wall-mounted TV playing some older murder mystery documentary. He loved how normal it felt, how comfortable, and different.

In his mind, he could see you going through the motions every day, the boy longing for even just a taste of that. In the way you admired his weirdness, he admired your normality. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“I’m officially cutting myself off until Christmas.” You huffed, climbing off of the bed and staggering to your vanity. Toby watched as you fiddled through your makeup, popping open the box of makeup wipes and taking one out. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you began to wipe the design on your cheek off, rubbing the wipe over your eyes and cleansing your skin of the fake deep-set eyes. The brunette was lost, mesmerized by how your rosy cheeks looked so sweet in the warm light of your bedside lamp, eyes brighter than ever.

Sitting off your chair, Toby sat up a little when you grabbed another wipe, kneeling next to him. “Your turn.”

He stuttered, glancing from your now-clean face to the wipe in hand, nervousness creeping up in his throat. The wipe was cold, pressing it against his as you tried to clean him off, Toby watching through worried eyes when your face started to contort, confusion heavy in your features. “Dude, like, none of this is coming off. What kind of makeup did you use?”

“Hah- Uh, the good stuff, y’know?” He could tell you weren’t convinced, scrubbing just a little harder on his cheekbone until the grayish skin became littered with red irritation. You sat back on your heels, cupping the side of his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb across the skin under his eye. Toby flinched, your other hand coming up to cup the other side of his head, eyes tensed in focus.

Fuck, here it goes.

“This isn’t makeup, is it?”

Toby cringed, refusing to look you directly in the eyes. His fingers flexed, the outline of his pocketknife pressing against his leg, a silent reminder. He didn’t want to do it, God, he silently begged not to, prayed for you to brush it off so he could get out of here. The room felt so small now, your closeness becoming increasingly irritating the longer you stared.

But the brunette knew that if you reacted how everyone else did, with panicked screams that would have your curious neighbors come knocking, he knew what he would have to do. Even someone as awestruck as you couldn’t keep him from the inevitable.

He clenched his jaw when you dropped your hands, parting your lips like you wanted to say something, but getting tangled in your own thoughts.

“[Y/N]. I’m- uhm- I’m him, okay?”

You just kept staring, “I get it, your costume was good- okay? I don’t-”

“No, I’m not- Jeez,” He slid his hand up the side of his thigh, finally forcing himself to look at your confused face, eyes snagging onto every detail. “I’m Ro- Rogers. Like- Toby, Toby Rogers… I’m Ticci Toby.”

Tapping his heel on your carpeted floor, the brunette waited, collecting every twitch of your eyes or shaky breath that you took. He was ready for the yelling, the panic, taking calculated measurements in his head of just how many steps it would take for you to get to your bedroom door. He had done it a million times, ended someone’s life a million times. He would force this time not to be different.

His hand flexed around the indent of his pocketknife, ready to flip the metal open as you sat up onto your knees.

Your hands moved slowly, following the same motion you had been making all night, but this time it was more meaningful. Toby flinched as your warm fingertips brushed along his jaw, wrapping gently around his cheeks as you said nothing, the brunette trying to keep the floodgates of panic from cracking open in his mind.

That’s when he felt your fingernails picking at the bandage on his cheek, pinching the edge, and slowly, carefully removing the sterile cloth underneath, the fabric spotty with dried blood. Toby let his eyes shut, his facial wound now on full display, slowly ticking the seconds of silence by in his mind, relishing in the fleeting feeling of his ‘normality.’

He was a fool to ever think he could have something so nice-

“The pictures on the internet do not do you justice.”

The rush came to a stop, eyes slowly flinching open as he looked at you, his brows knitted in confusion. “What?”

“There’s these pictures on Twitter, really blurry, but still- of you. They don’t make this thing look half as cool as it really is.” As if to confirm it for yourself, you brushed your thumb across the edge of his skin where the flesh broke off in torn tissue and exposed the side of his gums. You watched to see if he would flinch, carefully pressing the softness of his cheek to watch the skin stretch and move- it was real.

Toby watched as you sat back, setting your hands down in your lap. It was strange how the brunette found himself missing the warmth of your touch, already.

“Toby… Toby… How the fuck did I not see it sooner?” You repeated his name over and over, rolling the syllables off your tongue and stapling them in your mind. “How did I not notice? I’ve seen your face a million times.”

Toby could barely register any of it, his heart thudding a mile a minute as you carried on like everything was normal, more angry with yourself for not noticing it was him than anything. It was almost a blur as you scooted forward, leaning in close to wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him in so gently.

He could feel himself melt, hand unraveling from his knife as the panic dissipated, the sweet, lovely smell of your perfume heavy in his nose. He had to be dreaming, he thought, slowly coaxing his hands around your back and pulling you in closer, forgetting the last time he had even had a hug at all.

But then it ends all too quickly, your hands pushing back on his shoulders, a panicked look in your eyes.

“I must seem insane.” And then you’re standing up, running your hands through your hair, pacing back and forth across the messiness of your bedroom. Toby shakes his head, standing off the ground, reaching out to you. “I’ve been going on and on about you all night- I must seem so psycho and crazy. This is so embarrassing- What the fuck?”

He’s grabbing your arms, pulling you back over to the foot of your bed, and sitting you down, an exasperated smile on his face. He was so worried about you freaking out or becoming terrified that he completely forgot who you were. You had been rambling about him all night, unknowingly complimenting the boy right to his face, and Toby was scared you wouldn’t like him. Just like how you’re worried about looking crazy, embarrassment flooding your face as you hide your palms in your hands.

“[Y/N], lo- look at me.” He tugs your hands away, sitting beside you on the bed, leaning down so you’re forced to look at him. You nervously hold his gaze, face so red and flustered, he’s smiling at you like a little kid. “It’s cute.”

And then you’re flopping back onto the bed, screaming into your hands as Toby laughs, running his hands through his hair.

Is this what it’s like? Teenagers hiding out in their rooms, casting sheepish glances at one another all night until one of them cracks, everything flooding out. He should be taking a priority, getting the hell out of your room and out of your life before he gets mixed up with something he can’t pull himself away from. But the flirty touches, teasing, and everything else that got him here clouds his judgment.

Then you’re sitting back up, scooting closer, and throwing your arms around his neck, abandoning every thought he was just brushing over in his mind. He holds you close, your face hiding in the crook of his neck, taking uneven, steady breaths as you try and rationalize it all, before giving up. “I’m sorry, Toby.”

And now it’s his turn to be confused, leaning back to look you in the face. “For?”

“Everything. The things even I couldn’t have controlled, the things that made you this way- Nobody’s probably ever told you before, so I will: I’m sorry. I’ve studied your story so many times, went over every detail, ran your perspective in my dreams- but even still, I can’t possibly imagine.”

The brunette can’t feel pain, he doesn’t understand the cut of a knife or the sting of a bullet. But the pang that snags in his chest, this heavy weight that feels like all the pain he's ever missed out on- that hurts worse than anything. But looking into your eyes, his hands planted firm on your skin, the solid weight beside him- It’s like it's all never even mattered in the first place.

For the first time in his life, he’s being seen. Viewed as more than just a weapon.

Screw the different perspective, screw the polar opposites, he’s in the here and now. It doesn’t matter if he’s been pretending tonight or his entire life, right now is real. He’s not going to lose it.

“Ca- Can I kiss you…?” It’s nearly a whisper, his voice so quiet and nervous as he leans forward on your bed.

You glance from his eyes down to his lips, heart thumping so loud you’re scared he might be able to hear it. You nod anyway, blinking slowly as you hold his gaze. “Y- Yeah.”

Toby brings his hand up nice and slow, cupping the side of your cheek as he leans in, fingers trembling against your skin. Your hand reaches to cup his, warm fingers relaxing atop his, a satisfying weight that has the boy swooning. Then you’re leaning in, too, slowly fluttering your eyes shut.

And then your lips touch, and everything just holds for a moment.

All the rush of the night, the nervousness, the excitement, it stops for just this one second.

You’re leaning into his touch, soft lips pressed firmly against his rough ones, slowly twinging your jaw to coax him deeper. He feels like he’s melting, skin so hot to the touch when you reel him in, your free hand snaking up the backside of his neck and into his messy curls.

He groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss and leaning back, breathing heavily. Your face is so flushed, cheeks a deep vermillion that makes Toby smile a little, grinning as he still cups your cheek. Your fingers brush through his hair, coaxing his head into your hand with such gentle touches. It’s so sweet, so calm, a complete turn from what the brunette is used to.

He knows pain, and rough, and cold- but you- there’s only sweetness, and caring, and warmth behind those eyes. He wants more of it, to feel more of it, he has to have it- to have you.

It doesn’t hit him what just happened until you’re giggling in front of him. Then that hold snaps, his conscience rushing back into him, and he’s leaning back further-

“I’m so so sorry- Oh my god- I don’t kn- know what I was thinking- I- Gah- I’m so sorry-”

“Toby.”

“If I should go- or- Oh, my god- I’m sorry- I should-”

“Toby.”

“I’m just so-”

And then your hands are wrapped into his hair, pushing forward until your lips collide, hurried, loud kisses that have the brunette spiraling, eyes fluttering shut again. There’s that warmth, your body leaning in to press close to his, arms wrapping around his neck, he thinks he might pass away.

You pull back, taking a deep breath as Toby collects himself, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He’s a mess, brain running a mile a minute, his body having a hard time catching up as he twitches and jerks.

Throwing your leg over his, you straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and holding him close. He’s swallowed by the sweet smell of your perfume, resting his chin on your shoulder as he wraps onto your back, heart thumping against your chest. He finds the thoughts flooding, dissipating the more he breathes, disappearing into this blanket of quiet.

“You alright?” You whisper, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair, his skin tingling with your touch. He hums low against your shoulder, running his fingers up and down your spine, the touch making you sigh. He could live forever in this moment, could die happy right here.

But when his fingers mindlessly dip a little too low, brushing your lower back right above the waistline of your jeans, Toby mewls at the way you grip onto tufts of his hair. It’s abrupt, a reaction, but he feeds into it anyway. He brushes that spot again, right above your tailbone, and you’re taking a deep, shaky breath against his neck. He likes that a lot.

Gently, he tugs the hem of your shirt up, just enough to see a peak of your skin. You pause, hitching a breath when you feel his cold fingers wind up under your shirt and press against your back.

“Toby-” He promises he’ll stop if you ask him to, making sure you know that- but you’re shaking your head, gripping onto his arm as he pushes his hand higher, snaking his fingers along the bony press of your back. You let out a low groan, quiet, but just enough to have Toby aching for more. He stops when his fingers brush the strap of your bra, dipping back down to caress the curve of your skin, studying every detail you’ll let him get.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispers, the dull lamp glowing across your flushed face making him blush, your body relaxing against his hold. Your noises are like a drug, he wants to hear them over and over, the softness of your voice so intoxicating. But more than that, he wants you. If this is all he gets, he’ll cherish it for the rest of his days.

Wrapping an arm around your back, he’s flipping you over, pushing you up to the center of your plush bed and towering over you. “Toby…” He drinks in your sweet gasps as he intertwined his lips with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were with a swipe of his tongue across your lower lip. Toby’s hands wandered the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to rub your waist. It’s so greedy, so hurried and eager, but doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

Your fingers run through his curls, following his head as he moves off your lips, slowly pressing a trail of gentle, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. You’re gasping, running your hands across his shoulders, digging your nails in when he kisses just above your collarbone- but then he’s sitting back, pushing up and off of you with a worried look.

“Fu- Fuck, I’m sorry-” And then you’re sitting up on your elbows, a concerned look on your face. “I’m not be- bein’ myself tonight- I don’t know what’s wrong. Shit, [Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Toby, it’s alright-” You laugh, pushing up to sit in front of him, reaching out before he takes your wrists in his hands, holding them down.

“No- I just, never do any- anything like this- It’s like I can’t stop-” Even through his apologies he’s staring at your lips, that hunger pooling in his chest for another sweet taste.

“You’re telling me I get to kiss the boy I’ve had a crush on for years, and he’s worried about not being able to stop?” Exasperation was heavy on your face, it’s almost laughable how much playful irritation was in your voice. Toby caught that last part though, the words going straight to his head.

“You gotta crush on me?” He smiles, redness tinting his cheeks. He’s still holding your wrists, your eyes slowly widening as the heat settles on your face.

“I, uhm- Well, you see-” You’re scrambling for words, the cheesy smile on Toby’s face not helping your case at all. “I mean, I thought it was kinda obvious. I dressed up as you for Halloween, man.”

He doesn’t let his conscience weigh him down anymore, pulling your hands to wrap around his neck before he pushes you back down onto the bed, swallowing the sweet taste of your lips against him. He can still taste the sourness of the candy you were eating on your tongue, too. He licks at the plush of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck- he probably won’t.

You’re a giggly mess, spreading your knees for him to slot between them, his muscled arms wrapping around the small of your waist. “And I’ve nev- never seen someone be able to pull off my go- goggles so well.” He prays you won’t be able to feel the bulge he’s sporting, but when your legs wrap around his hips, he loses all hope.

Your stomach flutters, tingles across your skin as he’s back on your neck, little nips and kisses that have your back arching off of the comforter, arms tightening around him. He would kiss you forever, marking every inch of your skin with a delicate brush of his lips, he could waste his time like that forever. You wrap your legs around Toby’s waist to pull him closer, feeling the outline of his cock. He grinds against you, letting out low groans at the snag of your clothed core. Both of you knew it- he needed you so badly.

But then you’re pushing your warm hands up the back of his shirt, fingers scorching across his toned muscles and scratching your nails into his skin. You push the top off of his shoulders, up and over his head before throwing it to the side, glancing down at the slim but strong figure looming above you. Scars adorn his skin, long gashes or scattered fragments of bullets that have clipped him, not to mention the littered cigarette burns all down his abdomen. He finds it disgusting, blemishes that he can’t stand to look at.

But you’re tracing them with your fingers, rubbing your thumbs across the blistered burns that made him sick, taking in every inch of him. And smiling. Was it possible to fall in love this fast?

“They’re disgusting.”

“They’re so cool.”

He can’t muster the words to fight you as you’re reaching deeper, pushing your hands further down his torso to snag onto his jeans, reaching for his belt. Toby’s body comes to a rushing halt, his heart beating so hard, the feeling of his cock finally getting the attention it wanted.

His hands rest on either side of your shoulders, a dark shadow over you as you slowly undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans hastily. Hands dipping past the band of his boxers-

He was big- so mouthwateringly big. Flushed a deep shade of pink at his tip, pulsing in your hand so comfortably- every part of Toby was so endlessly pretty to you. He was gasping, eyes trained on how your fist slowly moved, so hot and heavy in your grasp as you pumped him at a steady, methodical pace. “Ah- Shit…”

Glancing back up to you, your face is so red, lips parted as Toby takes your jaw into his grasp, forcing you to look up at him before he bullies his tongue past your lips, little groans slipping past. Your back arches into him as his hands snake up your shirt, parting from your lips only to push the fabric over your head, capturing your kiss quickly again. He thinks he can manage, thinks he can keep his composure- but then your thumb runs over his slit, precum dribbling out onto your finger, and he's moaning into your mouth like he's never been touched before.

He hasn’t, not like this, not this gentle.

“[Y/N]- Oh God-” You’re biting his bottom lip, fingers clenched tight around the swollen head of his cock and pumping gently, his hips twitching and jerking for more. He pushes off of you, the breathless flush of your face so pretty under him, but then he’s glancing down.

And, fuck.

Your tits sit so pretty in your bra, blushed skin laid out beneath him as shaky hands reach to unbutton your jeans, jerky fingers quickly tugging them down your thighs and onto the floor below. And then he can’t believe how he's gone this long without you, or how he'll be able to survive another night if you’re not with him.

Where you admire his blemishes, he admires your perfection. Not a nasty knife scar or bullet nip anywhere on you, skin so soft and warm, his cold hands running across your smooth hips. “Gorgeous.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, but it doesn't do you any justice.

“Let me- Can I touch you? Pl- Please-”

You don’t answer, just rising up off of the bed to reach behind your back, unclipping your bra so seamlessly as it falls off your shoulders. Toby nearly moans when you toss the fabric to the side, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths, tits so round and heavy- so pretty.

Falling to your side, he’s holding you close, one leg draping over his bony hip as he shimmies his jeans off. Your legs spread wide, hands gripped tight into the softness of his curls as rough lips wrap around your nipple. You’re gasping, skin fluttering with every touch across your abdomen, cold fingers slowly trailing down just below your belly button. He stays there, tongue pressing flat across your nipple as the pads of his digits line the hem of your panties, teasing as you buck your hips up, silently begging for him to go lower.

The brunette’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panties, causing you to jerk at the friction. He playfully nipped at your collarbone before glancing up at you through heavy eyelids. “My turn, pretty girl.”

“Toby- hah- Yeah-” His free hand wraps behind your back, cradling you into his side as he pinches at your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. He smiles against your tit, a long sigh of relief when you feel his fingers break past the line of your panties.

His fingers dip into the warm folds of your cunt, dipping down to collect your arousal on his digits, messily swiping across your plushy lips. You’re already soaked just from kissing, Toby popping off of your nipple to snag your lips, kissing you hungrily as you pant into his mouth. His fingers circle your clit, the nub pulsing and jerking at his touch, hips rising and falling as they chase the sensation. “Jesus- You’re soaked.”

Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub, you gasp, heat so prominent on your cheeks. “Don’t worry, I go- got you.” He’s unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor nipples, or soaking his tongue in the warmness of your mouth, lips glistening with his saliva. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You’ve never been touched like this before, and Toby didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your gummy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. You cry out, breaking from his kiss and giving him a good excuse to snag back onto your tit, gently biting on your reddened nipple.

He’s pumping his fingers rhythmically, curling them in a way that has your eyes fluttering shut, fingers tugging his hair so hard it makes him groan at the pressure. His digits glisten in the low light, hand stretching the fabric of your panties He’s hitting that little spot each and every time., looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your nipple, lips wrapped tight around the skin.

“Sh- Shit, Toby-” You groan, grinding your hips down as he stuffs his fingers all the way to the knuckle, the two middle digits spreading and pressing against your walls, coaxing your legs to spread wider. His palm bumps against your clit, holding his hand there to press firm against the bundle of nerves, your jaw hanging loose when he leans up to go in for more kisses. He is all over you, barely able to breathe as he ravages your skin, fingers bullying their way deeper until you can feel yourself gushing across his palm. The noises are so lewd, the schlick, schlick of your wet cunt taking him back in, walls clenching around his thick fingers. You can’t stand it, can’t take it anymore-

Toby can see it in your face, in the way you stop kissing him back to let out a long, guttural moan that has him in bliss. His fingers beat faster, fucking your swollen cunt open as his unattended cock throbs and leaks against your thigh, begging to replace his fingers.

“S’good Toby. Fuck. Right there- Don’t stop.” And then your arms are wrapping around his head, cradling his face into your neck as you fall apart on his fingers, pussy gushing and practically dripping with your orgasm. You think maybe you see stars, or it’s just the freckles on the brunette’s skin when he captures your lips, drinking up every moan you feed him.

His cock is wilting, throbbing, and twitching against your leg as you finally settle out, breathy groans that have you both staring at each other through heavy gazes. He slips his hand from your ruined panties, pulling your knee up higher to spread your legs more as he slides the fabric from your hips and tosses them somewhere unseen, taking his cock in his soaked fingers.

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip, smearing your juices with his cockhead as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good, his face disappearing into the crook of your neck as he gently nibbles your burning skin. “Need you so bad, Toby.” You breathe out, nearly panting. “Co- Condom. In the nightstand-”

Despite wanting to feel you, really feel you wrapped around him, he kisses just below your jaw before rolling over. Fishing for a condom in your drawer, he misses you sitting up, fresh orgasm giving you a rush of need as you watch him haul the packet in between his fingers.

Because then you’re pushing his shoulders down onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you snag the condom from him, quickly tearing open the packet. Toby watches with excitement, hands reaching to cradle against the sides of your thighs, fingers digging into your plush skin when you slowly slide the latex down his throbbing length. It’s snug, but thin, able to feel every pulse of your cunt as you take the base of him in your hand, swiping his tip along your folds, wetting himself. It was all the preparation you were going to give yourself because fuck Toby needed to be inside your pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart- Toby’s cock was slowly pushing up into your warmth as he presses through the first ring of muscle. Before you can overthink, you’re nudging your hips down gently. So agonizingly gentle that Toby has to stop his hips from riding off the bed. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as you seat yourself on his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. “Ah- Hah-”

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy, hands resting on his chest as he watches you.

You’re so nauseously tight, gripping his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back, fingers digging red marks into your skin. You’re both breathless, eyes clamped shut and bodies shaky when your hips finally meet his, so utterly full of him. Toby can’t even find the words for it.

That’s when you hear voices from outside your closed bedroom door, Avery and her friends returning from whatever drunken night they had, loud as ever.

In a panic, you push your hands over Toby’s mouth, the brunette’s hot breath fogging against your skin as he smiles, waiting patiently as they all file into Avery’s room, voices slowly dwindling out. Meanwhile, you’re pulsing around him, cunt clenching as you’re forced to wait.

But eventually it's all clear, palm slowly letting off of his mouth, a teasingly smile plastered on his face. You roll your eyes, quietly laughing as you steady yourself, pushing your knees further against his sides. You’re pulling your hips up eagerly, achingly fucking yourself at a slow, sensual pace. His tip kisses your cervix as you roll your hips sensually against his, making sure you feel every vein and twitch against your tight walls.

“Y’looked so beau- beautiful tonight. So pretty dressing up as me.” Toby gasps, running his hands across your thighs, up the sides of your waist as you dig your knees into the mattress. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that go directly to your clit as you lean forward, pressing your chest against his. Sweaty forehead meeting his, he leans up to meet your pitiful kiss, hips still pushing back as your clit rubs against his abs.

Surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth, pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole, slick glistening on his length, just to nudge yourself down again, relishing in that full feeling.

Wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, he massages the plushness of your ass, smiling to himself when you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face into the crook of his neck. “More, Toby.”

“O- Okay…” He breathes, bending his knees to get a better angle, the divot of his cock pressing against that sweet spot and making you mewl. The weight of you on top of him is so satisfying.

Toby starts up a satisfyingly good pace, thrusts get deeper and deeper until he finally buries his cock into you as deep as it could go. Throaty groans spill out of his mouth, he looks over and kisses your forehead gently, taking in every moan and whine you muffle into his neck. “Oh- hah! Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

Even if his body was exhausted, he couldn’t feel it. All he could tell was that your cunt was gripping him so hard his jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth as he fucked himself up into that sweet warmth. “So good- Oh, feels so good-”

“Oh god. Toby, right there-” You gasp out in pleasure, starting to move in shallow thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the curve of his cock knocking that swollen sweet spot over and over, each thrust more prominent than the last. You bounce your ass back on him, meeting every thrust that he delivers so deep into the swell of your pussy, clit aching and throbbing as it rubs against his hard abs. “You’re so- doing so good, baby-” He huffs.

Feeling that very familiar coil in your abdomen, you mewl, “Toby- I’m gonna-”

But then his thrusts halt, hands reaching further up your back to hold onto you tightly, sitting both you and him up as he crawls up onto his knees. He’s got your weight in his arms, cock still nestled so deeply inside of you as you wrap your limbs around him, leaning in to kiss along his jawline sticky with sweat.

He gives up thrusting now, hips rutting and grinding into you in a way that has you moaning deep and long, cunt throbbing with the ache for release. He’s in so deep- so full.

Kissing against your rose cheeks, he looks at you with fucked-out eyes, trying his best to ride out the last of this moment as he feels his gut pool with warmth. His arms reach around your slender back to dig his nails into the unblemished skin, holding you as close as he physically could. It felt so perfect. Your hips grind back to meet Toby’s, thighs trembling as they cling to his hips. “Shit, [Y/N], I think yo- you were made for me.”

And then you’re capturing his lips, breathy moans as you feel him throb inside you.

“Close?”

“Mhm…” He sighs, leaning down to kiss along your shoulder.

You grind your hips deeper, chasing that heavy feeling that builds in your gut, clinging onto whatever you can grab of his skin, brushing your hands up into his hair and pulling. “Hngh- Toby. Inside- ” You whimper, overstimulated, and your senses filled with only the brunette, you finally cum, riding it out on his deep thrusts. “Oh, fu- fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna cum, my pretty girl- Hngh-” He moans out as your pussy clenches down on him, finally tipping over the edge as well.

You feel Toby cum in hot spurts into the condom, rasping your name over and over as if it was the only word he knew. He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his full body weight as he pants against your neck, slowly tugging himself from your gooey warmth.

As you both come down from your highs, he quickly removes the condom and hugs your sweaty body closer to his, kissing along your neck and up to the corner of your mouth. Eventually, he climbs off of your bed, searching your messy floor for his boxers, tossing you his t-shirt which you happily pull on.

He fishes new panties from your dresser- quietly spazzing out at all the different colored bras and matching bottoms you had to choose from- and tugs on his own boxers.

Every movement after that is laced with exhaustion, tired, sticky bodies shuffling under the covers as you cling to his side, breathing in his smell like it’ll be the last time you do. He’ll make sure it’s not.

Flipping your lamp off, the only glow is from your TV, dim lights reflecting off of your still-rosy skin. He takes every moment to kiss along your cheeks, brushing your hair from your face, and cradling your body tight against him. He doesn’t really remember how you coaxed him into taking off the wrap on his hand- with the false promise that you would change the soiled bandages out tomorrow- but you do, unraveling the fabric until that horrific proxy symbol contrasted against his pale skin. A mark, a reminder of who he was returning to when the sun rose tomorrow.

He promised to let himself have tonight, but he knew that tonight wasn’t going to last forever.

But then you’re bringing his hand to your lips, placing a sweet, deep kiss right at the center of his palm. And he melts. He wasn’t lying when he said he thought you were made for him, the sour look on his face disappearing when he was cupping your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to kiss against your skin.

You kissed against the scar on his cheek, soft lips on jagged flesh, and he knew.

You spend the rest of the night fishing stories from him, things he promised he would never tell, but find your reactions just too good at the mention of Masky and Tim. Your obsession seemed to run deeper than him, but he was your favorite.

Toby would have never felt the dip in the bed beside him, or the fingers that messed in his hair, but he did feel the fist that clenched onto his jaw much harder than you ever could’ve.

“Rise and shine, twitch.” Jeff, in all of his ugliness, sat on the edge of the bed, teasingly patting Toby’s cheeks. The brunette sat up, pushing the killer off of him and out of the bed, hoarse little chuckles erupting as he felt you stir next to him.

“How the fuck did you get here?”

“Front door, duh. You sent me your location last night, remember?” Toby noticed through your open bedroom door that your front door was swung wide open, the killer smiling with satisfaction, but his face slowly dropped when he saw you slowly sit up.

“Toby? Wha-” You see Jeff, Toby ready to reach out and clamp your mouth shut, prepping for a terrified scream. But then you’re sitting up, Jeff awkwardly glancing back and forth between you two as your lips part. “No way.”

Toby should’ve known better.

Because then you’re bombarding the killer, sitting on the edge of the bed, and studying every detail of his face, fangirling, of all things. Toby smiles, laughing to himself as you banter on and on about newsletters and obscure websites, Jeff casting you concerning looks as you recount his entire backstory.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time Jeff finally pushes Toby to leave, barking about how he was supposed to have him back hours ago. The killer would never admit it, but they were only there that long because he enjoyed hearing someone harp on how good of a killer he was, complimenting him like he had always wanted.

Jeff’s already in the truck waiting as Toby kisses your face, kissing against your hands as fear courses him, fear that this will be the last time. But then you’re grabbing his phone, typing in your number, and sending yourself a text. A promise.

“For whenever you want to stop by ;)”

Followed by your address.

And then he’s back on the road, Jeff harping on and on about how ‘you weren’t that bad’ or ‘if Toby wasn’t careful he’d snatch you up.’ He couldn’t hear him though, too busy studying every detail of the photo you had sent him, the two of you smiling half-drunk in that elevator. It was already his wallpaper by the time they made it back to the mansion.

And he was already making plans on how he could sneak away tonight to come see you.

God, how he loved Halloween.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

Happy Halloween!

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