rosey

He had laughed in your face the first time you suggested that, only to choke on his mirth when he saw how deathly serious you were. He’d tried to argue, naturally, but you presented an awfully compelling case. He was messy and erratic, making complete filth of his bedsheets which you would then have to wash because he’s too scared of the noises the washing machine makes. He’d chew the pillows to bits and hump every piece of furniture in the house, and no matter how much you scrubbed or washed or sprayed his thick musk would be stuck on the fabric for weeks. Not to mention he had no idea when to stop, he was practically addicted to it; he’d go and go and go until he made himself pass out. It was for the benefit of you both that he be reigned in. 

He doesn’t like it, not one bit, but he concedes to the rules you set nonetheless. It’s just one of the many things he had to give up when you took him off the street and gave him the cushy life of a human. It was a big adjustment, yes, and although for the most part every change has been for the better, it’s times like these he wonders where he’d be if he was still feral. 

Certainly not as frustrated, that’s for sure. 

He’s been watching you from your bed for a while now, staring at your back as you click click click away at your keyboard with nary a fleeting glance at him. The first few days he whined, but gave up on that rather quickly when you didn’t budge. He barked a couple of times, but all that got him was a few coos and gentle shushes of pity. At this point, you don’t have the time or energy to keep explaining to him why you can’t play. He’s heard the same response enough times to know it by heart, anyways. 

The longer he sits here, the more restless he gets. The more restless he gets, the more his mind wanders, and his mind wanders to dirty places far too easily. When boredom seeps into his brain, he combats it with some rather lewd fantasies. His eyes flutter shut for just a moment, and in that split second an entire film of utter pornographic depravity plays on the back of his eyelids, memories of your bare body flashing through his mind. 

 It becomes far too much for him to bear rather quickly, and soon the full weight of Toby’s frustration is weighing heavy on him. He squirms on his back, nearly whimpering at just the slight friction of his boxers on his hardening member. 

He just can’t do this anymore! 

He practically throws himself off of the bed, hitting the ground with a hard thud. In the next moment he’s over your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck and whining softly. He sighs with relief when you actually reach up to scratch his head, although your free hand never leaves the keyboard. 

“Hey, puppy,” you say softly, without looking at him. You take your hand away far too quickly, and Toby whines when you pull your fingers out of his messy hair. He nuzzles you again, with a bit more intensity this time. 

“C’mon, Toby, I’m busy right now,” you say with a sigh. Toby huffs in annoyance. 

Dammit. So close. 

He can still feel the heat in his loins growing more and more by the second. This just won’t do. 

The next thing he knows he’s sitting between your legs, looking up at you from the floor. His heart flutters when you glance down at him with a soft smile, briefly tousling his hair in an almost condescending gesture, which earns another huff of irritation from Toby. 

“I’m sorry, pup, really I am,” you explain, “but I just can’t right now. I promise, as soon as I’m done I’ll do whatever you want. I just need you to be patient for a bit longer.” 

That wasn’t anywhere near the answer he was hoping for. 

He grumbles and leans in, shamelessly burying his face in your groin. He inhales deeply, tail thumping against the ground as he makes a show of taking in your scent. He smirks to himself when he feels you jump. 

“Toby, c’mon, don’t be like that—“ you start, but he cuts you off with a growl.  That makes you raise an eyebrow. 

You’ve seen him do this before. This is your cue. 

That’s how he lets you know he wants to play rough, and he’s ready to be treated like a brat. 

Of course, you oblige. It’s the least you could do, really. 

“Oh, you dumb mutt,” you hiss, and you can practically feel the smile he’s holding back, “can’t you behave for once in your life? You know damn well you aren’t supposed to be doing this.”

You have to hold back a grin of your own when the incessant wagging of his tail only picks up the pace. 

You feign annoyance with a heavy sigh, sharply turning your head to look back up at your computer. You carry on with your typing, ignoring the feeling of Toby shifting against you.

That is, until you feel his hips start to grind against your leg. 

Oh, fuck. 

It takes everything in you not to drop everything you’ve been working on right then and there, and  you even feel a slight pang of guilt when he whines that high pitched whine at you. 

You take in a deep breath. You exhale slowly. 

You have to stay strong. If you give in now, he’ll never learn. 

And besides, it’s so much more fun when you’re tough. 

“Toby. You haven’t been given permission,” you state firmly. This only earns an even more pitiful whimper from him. You resist the urge to bite your lip. 

“…Bad. Bad dog.” 

The words hold no weight. It only makes Toby hump your leg with more fervor. 

You shift your leg with intent, shuddering at the little yelp that Toby lets out when it rubs against his bulge. He’s already soaking the front of his sweatpants. 

“God, can’t you go ten minutes without begging to get your cock wet?” you growl. 

A shaky giggle manages to make its way through his gritted teeth. He nuzzles against your knee, and you can feel him looking up at you with those big, hazel eyes despite the fact that your gaze is fixed firmly on your monitor. He’s getting exactly what he wants, and you can’t even be mad. 

You do your best not to show how much this is affecting you. You force yourself to not look down at him, to keep your shoulders relaxed and your typing at its regular pace. 

“…You’re breaking the rules, and you know it.” 

For just a moment you feel Toby’s hips stutter at that. Then they’re only moving faster, his bulge desperately rubbing against your leg as endless whines fall from his lips. 

Oh, he’s just begging for more. 

“Stupid dog,” you spit, and you could swear his cock twitches at that, “Don’t you have any self control? I can feel you leaving a stain on my pant leg. Where’s your dignity?” 

He moans in response, and you feel him rest his chin on your knee. He’s panting heavily now. 

“I really should keep you on a leash,” you muse aloud, feigning thought, “If you keep acting like an animal, I’ll chain you up and treat you like one. You can’t get into any trouble if you’re stuck in the backyard, can you?” 

He growls, but it’s not aggressive; it’s desperate. It’s a needy rumbling in his throat that wants more. 

You shift your leg again, making a subtle effort to aid him in his release. 

He’s huffing and puffing like a freight train. Just hearing the sound makes you miss feeling his warm breath on your neck. 

“…P…P-Please,” Toby stammers, and your eyes widen a bit. 

It’s rare for him to use real words when he can growl and whine to get his point across, but now he’s using his voice to plead. 

Oh, God…

You inhale deeply once again, your breath shakier than before. 

You finally give in. 

You take your hands off the keyboard, resting them on the arms of your chair instead as you lean back. The way Toby lights up the moment you make eye contact, that dumb little smile that crosses his face and makes his entire expression go lopsided with a lust-drunk haze. 

“Go on then,” you order with a nod, your voice a bit more gentle than you meant for it to be, “make a mess. You’ll take the consequences for this, won’t you?”

He nods eagerly, and you’re not even bothered by the pool of drool he’s leaving on your pant leg. 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you watch him. His desperation is evident on his face, eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he loses himself to the feeling of an impending (and much needed) release. 

“Oh, you’re just a dumb little pup, aren’t you?” you tease, only to be met with a slurred chant of ‘Yes, yes yes.’  You’re surprised he can speak at all with the way his tongue hangs limply out of his mouth like a useless appendage. 

He’s losing the slight semblance of a steady pace he once had. He’s getting close, and all that matters now is getting to the end.  He needs this. 

He can’t control his voice anymore. Each whine or moan is louder than the last, until he’s practically screaming. He’s nearly sobbing, both from the pleasure and the overwhelming relief of finally getting what he’s craved all week. He’s so close, so damn close. 

There’s just one thing that’ll push him over the edge. 

“…Go on.  Cum for me like a good boy.”

Toby nearly chokes on his breath. 

A tremor rocks his body as he releases without warning, his sticky release shooting through the fabric keeping his cock contained and leaving a warm sensation on your leg. The last moan that leaves him is completely pathetic, and soon his voice melts into nothing but barely audible whimpers. Slowly but surely his erratic grinding comes to a stop, and the only sound is his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He rests his head on your knee, now leaning against you completely since he can’t support himself. 

You take a moment to appreciate the sight of your puppy; all tuckered out, brunette hair flicking out in all directions, and barely conscious. 

Adorable. 

You reach out and gently pet his head, scratching his scalp right on that spot that makes his leg twitch. 

“Look at me, pup,” you order, and he obeys. His eyes are lidded, but he still has the energy to give you a tired smile. You return the gesture. 

“Mm…I hope you know you’re in big, big trouble.”

Toby nods, his grin only widening. He doesn’t regret anything. 

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You were a seasoned stripper, to put it lightly. You had seen it all, heard it all, done it all. It was hard work, but staying loyal and quiet got you the best clientele. Ben Drowned was one of your favorite little pets, the blonde randomly sending you wads of cash for existing sometimes. So when he asked you for a favor, you knew you wouldn’t mind helping him out. You knew all sorts of weirdos lived out there, murderous immortals the least of your problems. Fluffing your hair you walked down the mysterious long hallway, the dim purple led lights the only lighting provided. You passed by many rooms, ignoring the sounds of moans and laughter. You took a deep breath as you nodded to your body guard, shoving off your fur coat and handing it to him for safe keeping. You despised leaving with a cum drenched coat. You opened the door, painting on a smile as you met the gaze of three hungry men. The longer you looked at them the more this was making sense, each of them more different than the last.

The one thing that was consistent though? The mask that hid their real faces. Your body guard closed the door behind you, trapping you with three mysterious buyers. "I heard it's somebodies birthday. Whose my lucky boy?" You asked. The one in the middle awkwardly squirmed in his seat. You grinned at the sight of his nervousness. "You must be Toby," You say, walking over to him. The clicking of your heels bounced off of the velvet walls, the three men mesmerized by you. "T-That I a-am," He sputtered. You found his stuttering adorable, causing you to lean over. You planted your hands on his knees, your breast falling out of your top as you leaned over him. "Tell me what you want me to do birthday boy," You purred seductively. Your touch seemed to make him visibly flustered, his hands shaky. "A d-d-dance would be nice," He concluded. You took a hint, noting his vibration seemed to be from your touch. You stepped onto the small stage, gripping the pole as you had many times before. You did a simple twirl, before doing the same chorography you had done dozens of time before. It was the perfect sequence. It showed just enough od your tits and ass without taking them fully out. "Cmon prude lose the panties," The hooded man grumbled, who you figured to be Hoodie. You shot him a nasty look, before returning your lustful gaze to Toby.

A cough interrupted the trance you and Toby were under, your gaze flickering over to him. He had already lit another cigarette, his mask off and beside him. Masky. You mentally scoffed at their rudeness, keeping in mind they named themselves Masky and Hoodie, they weren't all that. You played with the hems of your panties, relishing in the sight of Toby refraining from drooling. "Lose the top already," Masky huffed. Toby elbowed him, shooting him a dirty look. "D-Dude shut up," He argued. Masky rolled his eyes, taking another hit of his cigarette. "She's a stripper not an onlyfans model, we paid for tits, I wanna see some tits," He debated. The two began to bicker, arguing about respecting you. Hoodie sat their silently, his ominous gaze never straying from you.

"S-She's a p-p-person Masky!"

"Kid we paid for a service i'm just simply asking for the service."

In a swift motion you took a step down from the stage, placing your sharp six inch heel in between Masky's legs. It was mere centimeters away from his crotch, the proxies face paling at the sight. "Enough. Dipshit one and two, go over there," You ordered. You gestured your head to the right, signaling for them to move. Masky scoffed, rolling his eyes. You leaned over, grabbing the cigarette from his lips and placing it between your own. Confidently you leaned back, watching his lips part ever so slightly in surprise. "Now doggy," You barked. Masky tried to act like he wasn't intimidated, moving over to sit beside Hoodie. You inhaled the cigarette, plopping down beside Toby. "You want me to touch you baby?" You whispered, exhaling the smoke through your nose. Toby was mesmerized by you, your dominance only adding to your seductive aura. He nodded sheepishly, afraid to meet your gaze. You lifted his orange goggles off of his eyes, before tilting his chin upwards. "Words Tobias," You cooed. Toby swallowed, sputtering out consent. You grinned, your gaze briefly flickering over to the other two men. "You both have permission to watch and touch yourselves but if you interfere I won't hesitate to kick you out," You spat.

The proxies were not used to being bossed around by anyone besides their supernatural boss. You were ethereal, drop dead gorgeous, and your dominance only added to that. Masky's face turned a tint of pink, while Hoodie was suddenly thankful he hadn't removed his mask no matter how hot it was under there. You took one last hit of the cigarette before carelessly throwing it at the two proxies. You hadn't bothered to see where it had landed, your attention turning back to Toby. "Your friends are assholes, but I like you cutie," You purred. You maintained eye contact with his puppy dog eyes, pulling down his face mask. The gash in his cheek didn't bother you, considering you had seen Jeff before. You pressed your lips against his, Toby melting under your touch. He didn't have much experience kissing, but your lips were patient and kind, allowing him to catch up with you. You smelled delicious, your vanilla perfume flooding his nostrils. Gently you placed your hand on his knee, creeping upwards towards his thigh. "Can I taste you?" You purred. His pupils were blown with lust. "B-But aren't you tasting me r-r-right now?" Toby stuttered.

You grinned as you looked down at the noticeable tent that had formed in his pants. Toby realized what you meant, his face flushing red. "O-Oh. Y-y-yes please," He pleaded. You crawled down onto the floor, helping the brunette pull down his pants and boxers. You glanced over at the other two proxies, who were silently watching in awe. Their cocks were hard as well, begging to be let out of their pants. Toby's cock was hard and erect, the tip already leaking precum. You licked your lips as you licked up the underside of it. "I need you to be as loud as you can baby, let everyone know how good I make you feel," You ordered. Toby tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, watching as you fully placed his cock in your mouth. You lowered your head onto his shaft, before beginning to bob your head up and down. Toby's whimpers were so pathetic it was making you horny, your slick beginning to rub on your inner thighs. You kitten licked his tip, swirling your tongue around his slit playfully. HIs hand involuntarily found your hair, unsurely pulling at the locs. You could see Masky and Hoodie out of the corner of your eye, both of their cocks in their hands.

You took Toby deeper, feeding off of the sound of the brunettes moans. You forced your jaw to go slack, taking him to the base. Your nose brushed against his bush, the proxy beneath you trembling in pleasure. You could tell he was getting close to the edge, his cock starting to twitch in your mouth. You quickly pulled off of him, causing him to audibly whine. "Why?" Toby whispered, causing you to grin as you wiped the saliva off of your lips. You crawled on top of him, undoing your top and tossing it to Masky. You shot him a devious smirk before properly straddling Toby. "I wanna feel all of you baby," You purred, running your hands down his chest. You pulled your panties to the side, rubbing your slick up and down his aching cock. "You feel how wet you've made me?" You asked. Toby nodded, practically drooling as he looked down at your dripping cunt. "You've been so good for me. You deserve a reward, don't you birthday boy?" You asked teasingly. Toby babbled pleas of agreement, causing you to glance over at Hoodie and Masky. Both of them were edging themselves at this point, a cocky smile crossing your lips. "See boys? This is what you get when you're a good boy," You laughed, before lifting yourself and guiding Toby's cock inside of you.

You sank lower on his cock, tilting your head back in pleasure. He stretched your walls more then you had anticipated, your unholy sounds genuine. Anxiously Toby grabbed your hips, watching you sink lower and lower until you finally made it to the base. You both sighed in relief, your eyes meeting his. You propped yourself up on his shoulders, using him for support as you began to bounce on his cock. "Fucking hell Toby," You whined, the sound of his name falling off of your lips causing the brunette to lose all composure. His primal instincts kicked in, his hips fucking upwards to match your pace. "That's it baby, such a fast learner," You praised. You could hear Hoodie grunting, Masky biting his lip in an attempt to muffle his own sinful noises. Toby's cock brushed against your g spot perfectly, as if his cock was made for you. Your gummy walls were clinging to him, the brunette losing himself in the pleasure as he fucked you. "You f-f-feel so good," Toby sputtered. You grinned as you grabbed his face and forced him to look up at you. "So do you cutie," You purred.

You pressed your lips against his, both of you groaning into each others mouths as you rode his cock. Meanwhile Hoodie and Masky were panting messes, Masky's orgasm coming first. He rutted his hips up into his hand, obsessed with imagining you riding him instead of Toby. Hoodie was trying to hold on, watching as you slid your hand down to your clit. Drawing the slow circles gave that extra stimulation you needed, your moans growing louder. You nibbled on Toby's bottom lip, your eyes fluttering open. "Cum with me Toby. Cum deep inside of me birthday boy," You encouraged, your walls squeezing him tighter. Toby gripped your hips harder, fucking up into you one last time as he experienced pure euphoria. You cursed as you came right after him, his warm seed flooding your cunt. You both sat intertwined for a moment, panting in unison. You glanced over at Hoodie, who had yet to finish. Masky sat silently, his hand covered in white ropes. You slowly climbed off of Toby, shooting daggers at Hoodie. "You're lucky I feel like being nice," You hummed.

Confidently you sat on the stage in front of Hoodie, spreading your legs. It gave Hoodie the perfect view of your puffy red cunt. Toby's seed began to spill out of your abused pussy, dripping out of you. You smirked as Hoodie's eyes widened under his mask.

Typically you weren’t a paranoid person and you felt generally safe about your short travels to the grocery store. You did this regularly, twinkies and all. But as you continued your walk home you felt unsettled, as if you were being observed from a far. You finished your twinkie, tossing the wrapper in a random trashcan before continuing home.

You glanced at your watch, figuring the lack of sleep was just affecting your brain.

That was until you heard footsteps.

Your face went white, your ears trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. You forced your feet to keep walking forward, afraid of what would happen if you stopped. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the footsteps were coming from behind you.

Following you.

You quickly turned around, only to reveal that absolutely no one was there.

You blinked a few times, looking around. Were you really that paranoid?

Sighing, you decided to take a different route to your apartment, just in case you were being followed. If it were some loser or serial killer, no one would go down the southeast dark alleyway. Its appearance was intimating and scary enough you figured it would scare your stalker away.

Despite its scary appearance to strangers, you had been down it several times. Walking the city every day forced you to know a short cut or two. You turned the corner, going down a few steps before continuing your journey home.

Your heart began to pound as you heard rustling. You couldn’t quite understand it, what was it you were exactly hearing? It sounded like movement, you could solely feel the presence of someone else being there. Nervously you looked around, your surroundings being limited. You were behind two different restaurants to the left and right of you.

It couldn’t have been an employee, both restaurants closed hours ago.

“Hello?” You called out.

Maybe it was a homeless person who started residing here and you were intruding.

“So she speaks.”

You whirled around to find who the words belonged to, yours eyes landing on a tall, dark man. His dark brown hair almost covered his eyes, his eyes a deep crimson red. He was dressed in all black, his jacket being leather. His fingers were dressed in silver rings, a silver chain hanging from his neck. He was much taller than you, his height alone intimating. Not to mention his eyes.

“Was starting to think you didn’t have vocal cords princess,” He said, snickering to himself.

Your eyes quickly darted to the exit of the alley, your feet moving you towards it for you.

Before you could blink your body was slammed into the brick wall behind you, knocking the air out of your lungs. You struggled to breathe, your eyes blinking a few times before they could settle on the man in front of you. He pressed you flat against the wall, leaning towards your neck.

“Get off of me, fuck off,” You said boldly, trying to sound as intimating as possible. You shivered in terror as you felt him inhale, smelling you. With his arms planted on either side of you, you had no where to go, forced to stay still.

“You smell, so fucking good,” He complimented. He leaned back, admiring your face this time. The smell of your blood alone was nauseatingly delicious, but your scent of fear was arousing. “I wonder if Sam will let me break the rules this one time,” He murmured. You shook with fear as he stroked your face, admiring how warm your soft skin was. His fingers were freezing to the touch, despite it being early fall, he felt like he had been in a blizzard.

“Let me go, I won’t tell anyone, really-” You began babbling, listing excuses. The brunette grinned devilishly, as if he enjoyed hearing your pleas.

“Colby what the fuck are you doing?”

Your eyes landed on a blonde man with similar crimson eyes who was standing on the roof, staring at the situation. You assumed this to be Sam, as you watched him jump from the roof to the ground with ease. It was easily a twenty foot jump, your mouth forming the shape of an O as he strode over to the both of you.

Sam looked a lot like Colby in terms of unusually pale skin and crimson eyes, additionally him being dressed in the same edgy biker clothing. His face was stern as he focused on Colby, his eyes not even glancing at you once. “Cmon dude, have you fucking smelled her?” Colby asked. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at him, holding you in the same trapped position.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as they began arguing, their voices sharp as knives. “Of course I can smell her, the wind doesn’t make my nostrils dull dude,” Sam argued. Colby grabbed your arm, hastily pulling you in front of Sam. The blonde was taller than you as well, both of them towering over you as they talked like you weren’t there.

“I don’t think you smelled her correctly the first time, do it again,” Colby growled. His growl was genuine, one that had emerged from the back of his throat. It was animalistic, your mouth running dry at the sound. These weren’t just weird cosplaying serial killers, they were something else. Something not human.

“It doesn’t matter what she smells like we have fucking morals. We don’t kill any mortals. You know the risk of what happens if we try to drink from them,” Sam debated. He still hadn’t glanced at you, acting as if you weren’t even there. Colby rolled his eyes. “Morals are great but when’s the last time you seriously smelled anything like her? Seriously, here,” Colby argued further. He pushed you into Sam’s chest, his body as hard as a rock.

For the first time Sam looked down at you, studying you intently. He could see the fear swirling in your eyes, your teeth practically clattering in terror. Sam didn’t want to admit it, but you did smell ridiculously good. Nothing like they had smelled in the past few hundred years. “I can see it on your face, you want her just as bad as I do. We can share,” Colby offered. You felt frozen, neither of them physically constricting you but your body still planted in place.

Every fiber in you was screaming to run, Sam’s unusual crimson eyes not helping console any of your horror.

“No dude, that’s final,” Sam said finally. He pushed you towards the exit of the alleyway. “Get out of here, don’t come back,” He ordered. As you began to quickly walk away, you felt a large hand grip your arm. “You may not want her but I do, and i’ll have her,” Colby snarled. You gasped as you tried to pull away desperately, his hands locked around your arm. Before you could process it Sam was standing between you, removing Colby’s hand from you.

“I said no, get a fucking grip,” Sam growled.

You began slowly backing away, watching as Colby pushed Sam. His shove resulted in Sam flying into one of the many brick walls, the bricks crumbling around him as he stood up. Before Colby could reach you Sam was on him, grabbing his arm and pinning it behind his back. He tripped him, both of them landing on the ground. You stood terrified as Colby was pinned down, baring what looked like a set of fangs as he desperately tried to reach you.

“Did you not hear me? Get out of here!”

Sam’s voice snapped you out of your hypnotic state, your feet carrying you as far away from the alley as they possibly could.

\/

You couldn’t get the image of Colby’s fangs out of your head. Both of them were scary and ominous, sure. But the look of pure hunger, pure desperation, haunted you. Nightmares ensued nights after you had escaped the duo, your mind plagued with fearful thoughts. You couldn’t explain what you saw, the idea of someone being thrown into a brick wall and breaking the wall being impossible.

It had distracted you from your job and college work, you even stopped leaving the house. You were scared you’d run into them again, somehow someway. Sam didn’t seem too terrible, but you knew he was the same monster Colby was.

Your sleep schedule was backwards at this point, your mind afraid to allow you to relax as soon as the sun went down. You felt like you were going insane, your mind finally allowing you to sleep once it became dawn. You had become a recluse, one who avoided anyone who tried to talk to you.

It was right before midnight as you lounged in your living room, mindlessly channel surfing. During the night you longed to cure your never ending boredom, your paranoid mind insisting on you being wide awake.

Knock knock.

You jumped at the sudden sound, your body shifting uncomfortably as you forced yourself to sit up. You scrambled to your living room side table, digging through the drawer for any weapon of self defense. You found an old can of pepper spray from when you were regularly dating. Awkwardly you shook it, putting it up to your ear to hear if there was anything even in there. Was it expired? Maybe.

It wasn’t like you to avoid your problems, and you most certainly were not going to start now. Deciding that if it was expired it would only make it worse for your victim, you stood up. Tip toeing over to your apartment door you peaked through the peep hole, attempting to see who your visitor was. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the hallway was empty.

Gripping the pepper spray you opened the front door, Sam and Colby standing at your doorstep. Your mind took a couple of seconds to process their presence, Sam awkwardly waving. You raised the can of pepper spray.

“Wait wait wait we’re here to apologize-”

Aiming at Colby’s face you pulled the trigger, a stream of red liquid shooting out of the can. You used all that was in the can, throwing it at his face before promptly shutting the door. Your fingers shook as you locked the door, pressing your body weight against it so they wouldn’t break the door down. You swallowed hard as you looked through the peep hole again, not seeing either of them.

You sighed in relief, hoping they just went away.

You had showed them just who they were messing with. Even if you were only human.

Making your way back to your couch, you plopped back down on the cushion, searching for a decent show to watch. Maybe your brain would finally let you get some decent rest now that-

Tap tap.

Your eyes slowly shifted over to your living room window, your dark curtains restricting your view from the outside world.

There was no way-

Surely they couldn’t-

You boldly yanked the curtains open, revealing Sam. You stared blankly at him as he hung from your window. Your apartment was on the sixth floor, the blonde hanging onto the ledge of your window. Colby didn’t seem to be in sight, Sam awkwardly waving to get your attention. Slowly you pried open the window, glaring at Sam.

“What the fuck do you want?” You spat. Sam climbed up a little further, propping himself up with his arms on the concrete window ledge. “We came here to apologize, Colby specifically,” He said calmly. It was as if he was trying to trace his words carefully, like he was walking on eggshells. “And why would I want to hear an apology from either of you? Just go away!” You argued.

“I thought you said humans like apologies?” Colby called from the outside of your front door. Sam rolled his eyes, sighing. “They do dude just give me a second!” Sam yelled back. Your mind felt like it was spinning, trying to process the supernatural being hanging out of your window. Sam’s gaze returned back to you, his crimson eyes borderline hypnotic. “Not to be invasive but we know you haven’t been sleeping and are on the verge of losing your job. We didn’t intend to fuck up your entire life. If you give me permission to come in I can explain,” Sam said. Your eyebrows raised at his words. Were they actually stalking you?

You tilted your head to the side. “You need my permission to come in? As if you can’t break my window or door down?” You questioned. Was he really giving you bullshit formalities? Sam sighed. “It’s just sort of how it works for us. We can’t enter anyone’s home unless they give us permission,” Sam explained. Noticing your doubtful facial expression he added, “You can of course just start with me.”

As much as it pained you to admit to yourself, you wanted answers before you wanted them to go away. “Fine, but only you can come in. Not Colby,” You agreed. Sam slid into your apartment with ease, visibly stretching his legs as he stood up fully. “Oh cmon!” Colby groaned from the hallway. His displeasure made you giggle, even if the situation didn’t call for it.

“Firstly I just want to say the pepper spray attack was hilarious, thanks for the good laugh,” Sam complimented. Defensively you walked into your kitchen, your kitchen island keeping you at a safe distance away. You raised your eyebrows, signaling Sam to get on with it. He cleared his throat, his eyes solely focused on you.

“We are, very obviously, vampires,” Sam began. He was waiting for you to freak out. To scream or cry or something. Instead you stood freakishly still, your arms crossed as you waited for him to continue. “We usually don’t drink from humans, we steal blood bags from the blood bank down the street or at the hospital,” He continued. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Great so you steal blood from those in need, fantastic, what’s your point?” You asked.

“What would you rather us do? Drink from live humans?” Colby called from outside of the door. Sam turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “Shut up Colby!”

The blonde turned back to you, shaking his head. “My point is, we don’t drink from humans like you, ever. However we haven’t smelled anything like you in our few hundred years,” Sam continued explaining. His words finally caught you off guard. “Wait so you both are what? Three hundred?” You asked. Sam shrugged. “We’re both twenty six, but we’ve been twenty six for about three hundred and forty years, give or take a few,” He informed you.

“Yeah it gets blurry after a while,” Colby agreed from outside of your front door. You almost had the pleasure of forgetting he was there, your face twisting back into an angry expression as you resumed your conversation with Sam. “We are very controlled members of our kind, believe it or not. You’ll have to forgive Colby for losing his head, we usually don’t interact with your kind either. Kind of a double whammy,” Sam finished.

“Can I come in now?” Colby whined from outside of the door. You sighed, nodding. “Yeah come on in,” You agreed. The locks on your door broke off in seconds, a unfazed Colby entering your apartment. Words of protest hung on your tongue before Sam cut you off. “Dont worry we’ll fix that,” Sam told you. You watched as Colby awkwardly shut the door, your chain lock lying on the floor. As Colby joined Sam’s side the blonde nudged him with his elbow.

“I am truly sorry for what I did in the alley. But in my defense you are very hot and you smell divine,” Colby apologized. You felt your face heat up at his compliment and you silently prayed neither of them noticed. “In order to make it up to you we have an offer that might entice you,” Sam told you.

Colby rounded the corner of the kitchen island, slyly approaching you. “You see we’ve noticed that you seem to be pretty lonely, locking yourself in this apartment all alone,” He whispered. Colby leaned in closer to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “How you desperately grind against your vibrator to get off,” He purred. Heat dashed across your cheeks, your blushing so intense you knew both of them noticed.

“You see when vampires do bite a human, it sends the human into a state of blissful euphoria,” Sam continued. He followed Colby’s lead, walking over and standing directly in front of you. “B-but you said there was risk?” You questioned, trying to remember what Sam had previously said. It was hard to think as Colby towered over you from the side, tucking stray hairs behind your ear. “If one of us bites you there’s a chance you’ll become immortal if we feed for too long, but if we share you, it’ll force us to let you recover so the other one can feed,” Sam explained. Your eyes met his, his full attention on you.

Both of their attentions felt overwhelming, their mere presence making you weak in the knees. “It’ll only be more pleasurable for you if we fuck you, make you beg for more,” Colby murmured. He pressed a kiss against your ear, shifting himself behind you. His strong hands guided you to press your back against his chest, a whimper escaping your lips. Sam stepped forward, guiding your chin to look up at him. “If you want this you have to tell us, the smell of your arousal isn’t enough,” Sam said firmly.

You felt Colby’s boner poke you front behind, both men making your mouth water. The idea of taking them both at the same time sounded exhilarating, the idea of being bitten only making the idea sound better. You nodded profusely, grabbing Sam’s shirt to bring him closer. “Please, I need it,” You whimpered. Colby snickered from behind you, his hands exploring your body. “There’s our girl,” He praised, planting kisses on your neck. Sam planted his lips onto yours, roughly kissing you.

Neither of the boys would admit to you they hadn’t bothered having sexual relations in the past decade, the lust for blood ending in some bloody accidents. But they had enough trust in one another to stop the other from accidentally draining you dry. You were a delicious prize, one they wanted to keep around for a while. It didn’t help that you were also extremely attractive, your doe eyes enough to bring either of them to their knees.

Colby’s hands snaked their way up to the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath the fabric. His touch was ice cold, goosebumps spreading across your skin as his finger tips made their way up to your breast. “No bra? Naughty girl. It’s like you wanted this to happen,” Colby teased, smirking into your neck as his finger trips grabbed your perky nipples. You groaned into Sam’s mouth, the blondes cock growing harder by the minute.

“Let’s take this to the couch, yeah?” Sam suggested.

In the blink of an eye you were teleported onto the couch, your back now rested against Sam’s chest. The blonde moved your hair to the side, kissing your neck gently. His chest grew heavier as your heart began to speed up. He could hear the delicious blood flowing through your veins. “I’m gonna bite you first, that okay?” Sam asked. He exchanged a look with Colby as the brunette settled between your thighs, pulling down your pajama shorts and panties.

“Y-yeah, that’s fine,” You agreed, swallowing hard. Colby kissed your inner thighs, trying to shift your focus away from being afraid. As divine as your fear smelled to them, they wanted you comfortable. “Hey princess, focus on me,” Colby ordered. You forced yourself to open your eyes, looking down at the brunette between your thighs. He brought two fingers to your soaked entrance, sliding them in with ease.

Your hips rose to meet his touch, a sinful groan escaping your lips as he curled his long fingers inside of you. You could feel the coolness of his rings against your entrance, your head tilting back onto Sam’s chest as he finger fucked you. “There we go, you’re doing so good for us,” Sam praised. Colby attached his mouth to your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud like his soul depended on it.

While your mind was distracted with pleasure, Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He quickly bit down on the side of your neck, his sharp fangs piercing your skin. You gasped in pain, your head spinning as Sam began to feed. Colby maintained his assault on your cunt, the pleasure helping the foreign pain subside. He briefly detached himself from your clit, his fingers not slowing down. “Relax for me, it’ll feel good in a minute, just relax,” Colby cooed.

Your hand instinctively reached down, searching for Colby’s spare one. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, gripping Colby’s hand. If your eyes had been focused on the brunette you would’ve seen his face, his eyes widening at the intimate exchange. You were seeking comfort in someone like him, as his best friend was feeding on you. He was mesmerized by your naiveness and how desperately you held his hand.

Sam on the other hand was having the time of his life, sucking warm blood from a warm body. The sound of your moans only enhanced your taste. You squeezed Colby’s hand as the euphoria settled in, your face going pale. “Sam chill, you’re going too far,” Colby warned, choosing his wording carefully. Sam slowly pulled away from your neck, panting as he looked at you. You felt a familiar knot forming in your stomach, your mouth running dry.

“Fuck, i’m so so close,” You warned. Colby kept his fingers going at the same brutal pace, putting his mouth back on your clit. You whined at the sensation, throwing your head back. “Thats a good girl, cum on Colby’s fingers,” Sam praised, lapping at your wound. Droplets of your blood trailed down his chin, his tastebuds on fire as licked you clean. Your legs trembled as you cried out Colby’s name, cumming shamelessly on his fingers.

Sam’s boner was begging to be released, the slightest movement you made only making him harder. “You look so pretty cumming for us,” Sam whispered to your ear, peppering kisses all over your exposed skin. You were seeing stars, your mind spinning as you came down from your high. Colby slowly slipped out of you, the boys repositioning you quickly. They had forgotten how fragile humans were, your heart pounding so loudly they almost thought it was going to jump out of your chest.

You were positioned on all fours, your back instinctively arching as Sam took his place behind you. Colby was quick to attend to your sweet face, watching your doe eyes slowly open. “Hi Colby,” You whispered, giving him a dazed grin. Colby found himself smiling back, admiring your natural skin tone flooding back onto your face. “Hi princess,” Colby replied, giving you a genuine smile. You were able to see his fangs up close, the ends of them looking sharper than you had imagined.

Sam ran his tip up and down your drenched folds, the sensation making you shudder. “Why don’t you tell Sammy had badly you want his cock?” Colby asked mockingly. You tilted your head back, your adams apple visible to Colby as he leveled in front of you. “Sam please, I need it, so fucking bad,” You whined. Colby watched as you swallowed, trying to regain some moisture in your mouth.

Colby used one hand to tilt your head to the side, admiring the veins in your neck. “So beautiful,” He murmured. Sam slowly slid in, his cock bottoming out with ease. The brunette couldn’t help it anymore, deciding Sam fucking you senseless could wait. He needed to taste you now.

Holding your head up with one hand Colby sank his fangs into the other side of your neck, groaning at your taste. You were frozen in ecstasy, whimpers escaping your lips. You could feel your blood being drained out of you as Sam’s cock filled you whole. Sam moved his fingers down to your clit, swirling the abused bud as Colby drank from you. With each beat of your pulse he consumed more of you, before finally forcing himself to move away. He panted as blood dripped down your neck, the brunette using his thumb to wipe it away.

“Sam please move,” You begged, your words running together. You felt like you were on cloud nine, your eyes finally meeting Colby’s as Sam began to fuck you. “Colby, please,” You whined. The brunette smirked as he undid his belt, your desperation only turning him on more. “What is it princess? What do you need?” He asked mockingly, taking out his cock. Between unholy groans you managed to pant, “Please let me suck your cock, please.”

Colby grinned at the sight of you rolling out your tongue for him, your innocent doe eyes meeting his. “Fuck, i’m going to ruin you,” The brunette muttered. Sam’s assault on your cervix and clit continued mercilessly as Colby pushed his cock inside of your mouth, your jaw going slack as you maintained eye contact with him. “You have to try her mouth dude, fuck. It’s like she was made to suck cock,” Colby moaned, pushing himself in further.

His words only made Sam speed up, the blonde behind him coming closer and closer to his orgasm. “Next time we’ll switch, her cunt is milking me. It’s like she wants to be filled up by us,” Sam replied, grinning mischievously as your walls squeezed him. Your moans vibrated around Colby’s shaft, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You began to gag, spit pooling down the sides of your mouth and down your chin.

“Awe there we go that’s it, take my cock down your throat,” Colby praised, his face full of pride as he slid in further. You could feel your second orgasm coming, your body so incredibly full. Sam felt your walls squeeze him tighter, the blonde throwing his head back. “Fuck, that’s it, cum on my cock like the good whore you are. Go on. Let me breed you,” Sam spat, his hips snapping into yours. He gripped Colby’s thigh as you came on Sam’s cock, his fingers slowing down their assault on your clit.

Your vision became hazy as Sam came inside of you, groaning your name as he did so. Colby grabbed your hair, putting it in a makeshift ponytail. “Hope you didn’t forget about me princess, this is payback for the pepper spray,” Colby told you before cumming down your throat. You struggled to breathe as he slowly pulled his cock out of you, before swallowing all of his cum. Your waterline was flooded with tears as you looked up at him, completely and utterly dazed. You presented your tongue to him, proudly showing him that you had swallowed all of his seed.

You were filled with cum, covered in saliva and blood, tears threatening to escape your waterline and both boys could only think one thing: you were so fucking beautiful. Sam redressed himself first, while Colby guided you into a more comfortable position. As the brunette redressed himself he smiled, digging in his pocket. You watched as he pulled out a twinkie, handing it to you.

“I figured you might want this.”

You turned to Colby, ignoring a snickering Sam as he properly set up the massive porno camera.

“Are you sure about this?” Colby asked unsurely. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you in every single way possible, quite the opposite. But breaking the laws of psychics, touching a ghost, nevertheless fucking one, was completely unheard of.

His large hands found your waist, your body jittery in anticipation as he touched you. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to,” You whispered, standing on your tippy toes. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut, nervously waiting for Colby to take control and kiss you. Given the twenty years you spent alone, you had only day dreamed what a kiss felt like.

Not the wholesome fluffy kind. The kind like this. Full of intensity and raw passion. The way his lips threatened to bruise yours with each passing second, the soft groans what escaped both of your lips. His tongue gliding on your bottom lip, smirking as you accepted it into your mouth. His energy was so intense, so strong, you felt like you were on cloud nine. Another set of hands grabbed you from behind, Sam’s breath hot against your ear. You shuddered in between them, your arms wrapping themselves around Colby’s neck.

“Sorry lovebirds, i’m here to crash the party,” The blonde snickered, nibbling at your earlobe. Sinful noises left your lips shamelessly, being sandwiched in between Sam and Colby the best slice of heaven you could’ve ever asked for. Colby’s lips strayed from yours, allowing you to breathe as he peppered kisses down your neck. “Not to spook you ghost girl, but you’re looking more and more human by the second,” Sam said, grabbing your chin. Assertively he forced you to look at the camera, the bright flash the only light illuminating the dim basement. “How’s it feel knowing your mark on humanity will be letting us use you like this?” Sam asked, watching you melt under his touch.

Colby pulled away from your neck, his gaze hardening. “Sam,” He said in a warning tone. The blonde released your chin, allowing you to face Colby with deeply red cheeks. “Relax man, she likes it. Look at her,” Sam insisted. Colby’s gaze finally centered on you, cheeks tomato red and thighs rubbing together to create friction. You were practically vibrating with desire, your core throbbing and lips puffy from his earlier assault. Colby brought his hand to your face, cupping it before pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. “You like this? Being our little ghost girl?” Colby questioned. You couldn’t control your unholy sounds, a whimper leaving your lips as Sam grinded against your ass.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Sam snickered, brushing your hair away from your neck. You whined as his lips attached themselves to your skin, harshly sucking. For a brief moment you had forgotten you were dead. You had never felt so utterly alive in your forty two years of existence, your body engulfed in the flames Sam and Colby eagerly devoured you in. Colby dropped to his knees, pulling at your skirt. If this had truly been for science, you were sure it would’ve been called into question how your clothes materialized along with you. But this wasn’t for science anymore, your body a slave to the pleasure the two ghost hunters were providing you. And nothing had even really started yet.

Sam held you into place, stopping you from squirming as Colby played with the hem of your skirt. “Can I take these off of you princess?” He asked innocently, his pupils blown with lust as he looked up at you. You were so breath taking like this, your being transparent but real to the touch at the same time. “Please,” You whined, tilting your head back onto Sam’s shoulder. You couldn’t remember sex from your human life, your sex life containing fingering yourself to whatever shitty porno played on one of the tv’s in the hotel. That’s why when Colby flipped up your skirt, his lips grazing your thin panties, your knees almost buckled. Sam was quick to hold you up, chuckling darkly at your action. “You’re so cute,” He grumbled against your skin, his hands slithering up to your breast.

Your back arched as he slid under your shirt with ease, as well as your bra. His warm hands complimented your cool skin well, your nipples hardening under his touch. He quickly cupped your breast, before rolling each nipple in between his fingers. “Good girl, so responsive for us,” He cooed, his teeth grazing your skin as Colby’s hot breath fanned over your folds. He pulled your panties to the side, admiring your drenched slick. “So fuckin wet, shit,” Colby muttered, before licking a stripe up your folds. Your moans echoed off of the basement walls, one of your hands flying down to grab a handful of his hair. You involuntarily pulled at Colby’s roots, whining as Sam guided your chin to kiss him.

You couldn’t help but moan into Sam’s mouth as Colby’s lips were quick to find your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud as he pleased. “You like that? Hmm? You like Colby eating you out?” Sam asked, his eyes dancing with amusement as he watched you grind pathetically against Colby’s mouth. You nodded vigorously, feeling the brunette devour your cunt mercilessly. “Words baby, tell Colby how good he’s making you feel,” Sam purred. He smirked as he watched your cheeks turn a darker shade of red, his spare hand pinching at your left nipple. “Feels so- fuckin- oh-, good! So good Colby,” You sputtered, your hips moving on their own as they grinded against Colby’s tongue.

Sam’s lips returned to your neck, littering any exposed skin with hickies and possessive marks. Colby released your clit with a pop, peering up at you curiously. You whined at the loss of friction, the brunette mesmerized as you held onto him and Sam for support as you lost yourself in pleasure. He brought two fingers to his mouth, sucking on them before shoving them abruptly into your entrance. Your back arched off of Sam’s, Colby smirking as he curled them. He could feel your gummy walls cling to him, begging for more. “Don’t be rude princess, tell Sam how good he’s making you feel,” Colby taunted, watching your mouth drop into the shape of an O as he hit your g spot. Sam slithered his hand to your throat, gently squeezing the sides to test the waters. This ignited a spark within you, your hips restless as they struggled to grind against Sam’s dick and Colby’s hand at the same time.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so, so, good, you both feel- ahh, amazing, please, don’t stop,” You pleaded, your legs threatening to tremble as they continued to tease you. Satisfied with your shameless pleas Colby dipped back under your skirt, reattaching his mouth to your neglected clit. You gasped, feeling Sam squeeze your throat tighter. “Be grateful baby, thank Colby for making you feel good,” Sam grunted, his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. He felt like he was going feral, your energy coursing adrenaline through his veins. Colby grinned into your folds as you struggled to make a coherent sentence. He finger fucked you faster, eager to feel your walls continuously flutter around his fingers.

“Thank you Colby, thank you soooo much,” You panted, gripping onto Sam’s arm for support. His veins were visible, popping out as he restricted your airway. Sam couldn’t hide his snicker, his breath hot against your skin as he got close to your ear. “How are you so cock drunk and we haven’t even fucked you yet?” He murmured, planting kisses against your ear as you grinded against Colby’s face. You could feel yourself coming closer to the edge, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your thighs threatened to shut. “Gonna cum, fuckin, fuck-” You warned, euphoria washing over you. Your moans were strings of sinful cursed and mantras of the boys names, a cocky Colby emerging from between your thighs.

They were quick to rearrange you, your knees scraping against the cold basement floor. You had never realized just how cold the basement actually was, goosebumps trailing across your skin. You arched your back as you were on all fours, your eyes curiously looking up at Sam as he unbuckled his belt in front of you. The thought of taking them both at the same time was mouth watering, your tongue flattening out across your lower lip. Sam stopped undressing momentarily, bringing his thumb to your tongue. “You dirty bitch, fuck me,” He grumbled, watching you eagerly suck his thumb. You swirled your tongue around it, causing the blonde to only strip faster.

Meanwhile behind you, Colby began rubbing his cock up and down your slick. His tip brushed against your abused clit, causing you to shudder as Sam presented his cock in front of you. Eagerly you began sucking the head first, kitten licking his slit before lowering yourself down further onto his cock. His own sinful groans of your name were borderline euphoric, so much so you forgot a hot and bothered Colby sat behind you. Your moans vibrated around Sam’s cock as Colby pushed himself inside of you, gripping the sides of your hips aggressively. If possible, you were sure his grip promised finger shaped bruises in the morning to come. “She’s so tight, holy shit,” Colby moaned, biting his bottom lip as he bottomed out inside of you.

“Dude, you should feel her mouth, it’s like she was made for me,” Sam replied, grabbing a handful of your hair. Colby began to thrust into you, relishing the way your cunt felt as he fucked you. “Made for us, fuck, she’s all ours,” Colby agreed, picking up the pace. Forcefully Sam made you to look up at him, tears flooding your waterline as his cock hit the back of your throat. “Hear that? Made for us. You’re ours baby. Ours to fuck,” Sam taunted, shoving his cock deeper down your throat.

“Ours to ruin,” Colby agreed, fucking you more desperately.

“Ours to claim,” Sam smirked, tugging at your hair. He pulled you off of his cock, a trail of saliva attaching you to him. He gave you a moment to breathe, your lungs craving oxygen and accepting gulps before he shoved you back onto his cock. Your hands placed themselves onto his thighs, your elbows digging against the harsh concrete floor. The sharp pain that rubbed against your knees and elbows was irrelevant, your body trembling as your jaw loosened. You could feel Colby pound against your g spot, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you finally let go. Allowing them to use you like this, on a filthy basement floor, was pure and utter bliss.

“Look at our cock drunk girl, so pretty,” Colby praised, noting the way your body milked his cock for all it’s worth. Sam tugged at the roots of your hair, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’m gonna cum down your pretty throat, understand? And you’re gonna swallow every last drop for me,” Sam barked, ecstasy running down his spine as you eagerly nodded. His hips stuttered as he thrusted forward one final time, his warm seed flooding the back of your throat. You tried your hardest not to gag, eagerly swallowing every drop of the salty seed Sam could produce. You continued to suck his dick, milking him utterly dry. It wasn’t until the blonde was shaking that he pulled away, grabbing your face with his large hand.

“Such a good girl, our good little ghost girl,” He praised, admiring the sounds of your delicious moans as Colby pounded into you. You struggled to keep eye contact, each thrust Colby provided more intense than the last. It was when the brunettes hand slipped down to your clit that your knees threatened to give out on you. “Awe, does Colby playing with your clit make you squirm?” Sam asked mockingly, forcing your lips to pucker out like a fish. You couldn’t form a coherent response, the extra stimulation making the rope inside of you tighten. “I think she’s close, I can feel her- fuck, I can feel her milking me,” Colby said, struggling to keep himself from cumming right then and there.

Sam squeezed your face harder, his eyes boring down into yours. “Cum on his cock baby, go on,” He cooed, watching in satisfaction as your thighs trembled in euphoria. You grabbed onto his arm for support, feeling Colby slip out of you. His warm seed painted your ass, your breath shuddering as you met Sam’s gaze. The three of you were panting messes, the blonde using his thumb to wipe some saliva off of your chin.

“Wait, can ghost get pregnant?”

Fred and George both tried to help you forget about it and would stand up for you any chance they got. But not even the two most notorious pranksters could save you from the ridicule. Even your house mates had begun to look at you funny, like you were some extension of a sex toy the Weasley’s owned. It didn’t help everytime you were with them that it reminded you why you were being picked on in the first place. Guilt and humiliation constantly pried at you, making your personality do a full 360. You went from bubbly and out going to quiet and reserved. Even during the dining hall, (where sitting with your respective house was an ancient concept), only Fred and George would sit with you. They knew how to make you laugh and moan, but you missed having a life outside of them.

It was another day of hell, whispers and giggles seeming to erupt everywhere you went. You had grown used to it, even if your insides churned with humiliation. You kept your eyes to the ground, not giving Draco or Pansy anymore ammo than they already had to belittle you. Your mind had been focused so much on the snickering you hadn’t been paying attention to where you were going, walking directly into Ron Weasley. Ronald Weasley, to be exact. Fred and George’s little brother. “Shit sorry mate, didn’t see you,” He immediately apologizes, reaching down and collecting your scattered textbooks for you. Your eyes met his and for once you didn’t see pity or judgment reflecting back at you. “That’s alright I wasn’t paying attention,” You say awkwardly. You were waiting for Ron to hand you back your textbooks but he didn’t, instead wanting to engage in conversation with you.

“It’s my fault, really. I can walk you to your next class to make up for it. I’ve always been sort of wreaking havoc everywhere I go,” Ron chuckled. He seemed just as nervous as you. You scratched the back of your neck, stepping aside to let a group of Ravenclaws pass you both in the crowded hallway. “I was just heading back to my dorm actually,” You admitted, vaguely gesturing to the Hufflepuff sub section of dorms. Ron raised an eyebrow, his cheeks a light shade of pink at the mere prospect of just walking you there. “I can take you there, I don’t mind,” He insisted. You hesitantly walked beside him, wondering if this was some cruel prank. You put your hands behind your back as Ron carried your textbooks. “So I gotta ask, you know the rumors i’m sure. You don’t think any less of me for it?” You asked, dreading the answer but refusing to water the seed of a false friendship. Ron let out a chuckle. “We’re in Hogwarts University, everyone is fooling around, whether they admit it or not,” He replied. You brushed past a group of Gryffindors who eyed Ron like he had horns growing out of his head.

“If you ask me, I think Draco and all those other twats are jealous,” Ron commented. Your eyebrows furrowed. “Really?” You asked, seeking clarification. Ron playfully rolled his eyes. “Oh cmon. You’ve just got balls to admit who you’re fooling around with. For example Draco and Pansy fooled around last spring but no one’s talking about that. They don’t have the balls to. At least you walk around this University like you own it,” Ron complimented. This made heat rise in your cheeks. Fred and George always made sure to praise you, to put your pleasure first. But hearing any kind of praise from someone else? It felt refreshing. Even if Ron was another Weasley. You knocked the secret knock to enter the Hufflepuff dorms, guiding Ron past the common room. Your housemates stared at you before looking away, Hufflepuffs not really the type to verbalize their obvious judgment. You led Ron to your dorm, which you had become more and more thankful was a singular one and not a shared one.

You opened the door with a flick of your wand, not anticipating to see Fred and George lounging about. You were startled, Ron raising an eyebrow as he walked inside and set your textbooks on your desk. “Oh we see you’ve met Ron. Cute little lad for ya isn’t he?” George chuckled. They both laid on your bed in similar positions, your heart pounding as you noticed their lean bodies. “A bit young if you ask me,” Fred countered possessively. You always liked that about the twins, they were so possessive and protective it made you put your full trust in them. “Aoi mate simmer down, will ya? We bumped into each other in the hallway. I was just helping her carry her textbooks back here,” Ron argued defensively. Ahh, the old school sibling rivalry. To prove his point Ron grabbed the book off of the top of the stack. “See this? ‘Fight or flight: how to fly with style’. Very important literature,” Ron bickered. Fred slid off of the bed first, rounding you and squeezing your shoulders from behind.

“Don’t mind Ronny here, he’s just tense since Granger called off their engagement,” Fred informed you, his breath hot against your ear. Ron seemed rather embarrassed by this, his pale cheeks turning red. “She’s just focused on her career, it’s different,” He argued weakly. Your gaze softened and you felt bad, pulling away from Fred to give Ron a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. Ron tensed at first, his eyes on Fred before his older brother gave him an affirmative nod to accept the affection. The twins didn’t like to share everything, Ron had anticipated you to not be an exception. Ron hugged you back before pulling back slightly, lips parted as he looked down at you. He fully understood the sexual appeal now. Sure you were beautiful, but being this close he could understand his brother’s obsession. Soft doe eyes, glossy and plump lips, which were currently parted as if an invitation.

“C-Can I?” Ron stammered. When was the last time he had felt this way? Even with Hermione towards the end it felt stale. But you? You sent butterflies in his stomach like he was on a stupid roller coaster. “Go ahead,” George granted. Ron closed the gap, kissing you softly at first before deepening the kiss. The dynamic here was clear. The twins were allowing Ron to have his way with you, but they were the ones calling the shots. Ron felt different but similar to the boys, his kisses a bit too desperate to match his brothers. He guided you backwards, the backs of your knees hitting the bed. Behind you in an instant was George, his hands holding your waist. “We know it’s a huge favor to ask, but you seem more excited than Ron does,” George purred in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. You whimper in Ron’s mouth, so used to having multiple sets of hands on you that George being there didn’t phase you.

“His minds on Granger and he’s been miserable. Show him what all the craze is about. We’ll reward you real good,” Fred added, rounding the bed to lounge lazily on the side. You finally opened your eyes, meeting Ron’s. His pupils were blown wide with lust, his chest heaving. Your hands slid under his shirt, exploring his smooth skin. “Sure, what’s another Weasley being added to the mix? Wonder if you’re as good as your brothers,” You teased. Ron didn’t take this lightly, ducking his head to kiss your neck. Your back hit George’s chest as he guided you both further back onto the bed. “I’m better. Better than both of ‘em,” Ron pants, his ears growing red the more turned on he feels. His hands travel down to your uniform, buttoning your blouse. A wicked grin forms on George’s face as he rips open your shirt, ignoring your protest. “You know we’ll buy you a hundred more. Now. Wanna see a trick Ronny?” George purred. Your face turned red as George undid your bra without even thinking, tossing it to Fred.

In front of the three men were your bare breasts, both nipples pierced with a metal bars. “Drool all you want, we were there when she got them. Oh and what’s that at the end there?” Fred asked mockingly, moving closer. At the ends of the left bar were the letter F on and on the right bar the ends were the letter G. “Oh I see, you really are a Weasley whore,” Ron commented. He leaned down and kissed down your breasts and stomach, yanking down your panties. “But don’t forget i’m a Weasley too and i’ll make you feel good as fucking good,” Ron vowed, spreading your legs and licking a stripe up them. Your hips stuttered as you grinded against his lips. You could tell Ron was inexperienced and needless to say, so did his brothers. “You’re not lapping up water mate. Try again but suck and lick with purpose. You want her to squirm don’t you?” Fred instructed. Ron seemed embarrassed at being called out but you stroked his hair, grounding him back into the moment.

This time he went lower, his eyes focused on your face to watch every micro expression. He started to pay attention on where to suck and prod, even opening your folds with his fingers to get the best view of your clit. He sucked the nerve gently at first, noting the way your head fell back on George’s shoulder. “That’s it, now suck harder and she’ll be cumming on your face in no time,” Fred said, mockingly panting Ron’s shoulder like he didn’t believe he could do it. But Ron kept his eyes trained on you, noticing the way your legs began to tremble as he sucked harder. You squeezed his head with your thighs, earning a soft groan from him. He experimented, slipping his tongue to your entrance and gently thrusting it inside, using his thumb to draw circles around your clit. You tugged at his ginger hair, breathless as you rode his face in pure desperation. It wasn’t long before you babbled a warning about cumming, creaming on Ron’s eager tongue. He lapped up your juices like it was sweet nectar, the younger male unable to get enough.

“I say we make this a competition. First one to make her squirt gets to fuck her raw,” Fred proposes, George smirking in response. Ron, your juices still coating his chin, looked up. “You’re on,” He replied. He moved aside, letting Fred in between your legs. George stayed in place, perfectly content with holding you as you rode through waves of euphoria. Fred kissed up your inner thighs, grinning as his teeth grazed your stretch marks. “I won’t even use my tongue. She’ll get off on nothing but my fingers and filthy words, won’t you baby?” Fred asked you, taunting you as he plumped two slender fingers into your sopping cunt. Ron watched eagerly as Fred’s fingers disappeared, curling upwards. “You wanna know what I think? I think you adore this. Adore being ours to play with and break,” Fred taunted, finger fucking you harder. You went to close your legs but George’s hands stopped you, keeping your thighs pried open. “This whole being a Weasley whore bit? I think deep down the humiliation gets you off. You like the idea of being owned by us. Admit it,” Fred ordered.

You hated how much your walls squeezed him as he spoke, a deep rooted twisted desire coming into light by Fred’s forceful words. “I-I like being a Weasley whore,” You sputtered, grinding against Fred’s hand. Fred snickered, leaning forward to gain your eye contact. “Like? You just let our little brother have his way with you because we said so. I think you love it. That you crave it,” Fred replied mockingly. His words were always so carefully spoken, stinging sometimes with their vicious undertones. But he knew you could handle it, your walls tightening around him telling him more than your lips ever could. “I love being a Weasley whore,” You whimpered. Fred grinned, the charming kind of grin that makes butterflies rise in any girls stomach. “Go on then. Be a good Weasley whore and cum for me,” Fred ordered. The three sets of eyes on you and Fred’s command, along with relentless sent of fingers that brushed against your g spot, you didn’t stand a chance.

Your back arched as you came on Fred’s fingers, creaming around them. The ginger made a show of slowly extracting them, keeping eye contact as he sucked them clean. George was the only one left now, yet he made no move to move in front of you. With your back nested against his chest he moved his hands, one down to your clit and one to your throat. “You know what I think? I think that you need more than being told you’re a whore to cum properly,” George purred, his voice husky in your ear. You whined as he began to circle your clit. Ron and Fred both watched eagerly, each holding one of your legs open to watch up close. “I think you need to be treated like one too,” George concluded. He delivered a sharp slap to your folds, grinning mischievously as you yelped. The hand around your throat applied more delicious pressure, making your head spin. “After all, what’s a little pleasure without pain, right? Makes it all worth it,” George grunted.

He could feel his own boner rubbing against your ass but he was determined to stay focused. This wasn’t just about making you cum anymore, it was about winning. About proving out of the three of them he could make you feel the best. He rubbed your clit again, choking you harder so that it made you breathe automated. Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his thighs. You felt so light headed you thought you may be dreaming as you lost yourself in the pleasure. George relished the feeling of you trembling against him and his masculine pride swelled when he could feel you getting close. “Cmon pretty girl, show them whose best and squirt for me,” George whispered. You felt your orgasm coming, this time a completely different kind. Something about George’s hand, his slender fingers holding you in place with your throat. It was your end game.

Your eyes roll back as you squirted, your body twitching as all three boys watched in pure awe. “That was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen,” Ron admitted, looking up at you. Fred however, looked more concentrated.

Fred spat out his drink, thankful his cup hadn’t stranded too far from his lips. “Malfoy? Have you lost your mind? Was there crack in your drink or something?” Fred asked. He dramatically grabbed your cup, examining its contents for any signs of tampering. “Freddie, just go up to him and ask. Worst he could do is say no,” You replied. Draco matched Fred’s energy in a way. Tall, assertive, dominant, and mean. You couldn’t ignore the way the thought of being between the two of them sent shock waves right to your core. Fred brushed his shirt off, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed straight towards the snakes den. Draco was surrounded by his usual group, his eyebrows darting up at the sight of Fred approaching. The old childish beef the two had was long discarded, but that didn’t take away Draco’s distain for the whole Weasley family.

The war may have mellowed out the taunting, but nothing could reverse his father’s teachings. You watched Fred pull him away from the group, the two talking amongst each other. Through the spotty lighting you could make out Draco’s face going through a whirlwind of emotions. You wondered if this was a bad idea, contemplating if all of you being mature adults cancelled out any possible ridicule. You were surprised when Draco handed his muggle grass filled blunt back to Theo, exhaling as the two of them approached you. You tried not to appearance nervous, awkwardly setting your cup on a nearby table. Draco reached you first, staring down into your soul coldly. “I think this is a more private matter. Follow me,” He said. You trailed behind him, Fred following behind you. The pair were oddly quiet, as if they could read each others minds.

You swallowed as Draco led you both into his dorm, locking the door behind you. “Strip,” He commanded dryly. He seemed unamused as he dug a small velvet box out of his wardrobe. You chuckled awkwardly, trying to override the silence. “What?” You asked. Fred casually sat down in a nearby chair, man spreading as he did so. “You heard him, strip,” He agreed. Unsurely you followed suit, unzipping your dress and allowing it to fall to the floor. You stepped out of the shimmery material, stepping out of your heels as you did so. Draco glanced at you in his mirror, before scoffing. “Ditch the undergarments, you won’t need them,” He ordered. You felt goosebumps spread across your skin as you unhooked your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. You noted the cocky smirk that was painted across Fred’s lips, watching your every move as you kicked off your panties. “Lay on the bed darling,” Draco said flatly. He seemed to be looking for something specific as he rummaged through his box of mystery.

You did as told, your back relaxing as you laid against the velvet comforter. Draco handed Fred a handful of rope, the two exchanging a nod as your boyfriend approached you. He grabbed your ankle first, tying it to the bed frame. “What’s all this about?” You asked. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. Fred remained eerily silent as he finished tying you up, spreading you out like a starfish. “Fredrick here decided to let me know that you are such a whore you aren’t satisfied with one cock,” Draco stated. Your eyes widened as you watched him pull out a collar, a shiny chain being pulled out right after. “So I told him that I specialize in taming whores and you need intense training,” He said, finally turning to you. He undid his emerald green tie, the collar and chain in the other hand. “So here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to play with you, as roughly as I want to. And just when you’re about to break, Fred’s gonna come join us, understand?” He asked. You nodded, embarrassed of how much your core was throbbing with desire.

Draco wadded up his tie, crawling on top of you.

“Open your mouth slut.”

Any hesitation Fred had about the whole ordeal faded at the sight of you eagerly opening your mouth. Your pupils were blown with lust, Draco roughly shoving the tie into your mouth. He then ran his hands down your body, admiring the way you melted under his touch. His fingertips were barely grazing your skin, your back arching off the bed in an attempt to get closer to him. Draco roughly grabbed your throat, shoving you back down. “Behave or I won’t let you cum,” He growled. Fred licked his lips as his cock began growing harder in his pants. Draco lowered himself in between your legs, using his index and middle finger to spread open your folds. You whimpered under his inspection, the blonde admiring your dripping cunt. “Such a pretty pussy for a cock whore,” He murmured to himself. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as he smacked your folds, your arms and legs instinctively trying to close. He chuckled darkly as you struggled under the grip of the restraints.

“Nice and red now. I say we make them puffy, hmm?”

You moaned into the tie as he abruptly shoved two fingers into you, your wrists struggling against the restraints. He curled his slender fingers with precision, watching you intently as you grinding your hips against his hand. “So pathetic,” Draco mused. He lowered his mouth to your clit, causing a whole new feeling of pleasure to crash down over you. His tongue was an expert, flicking and his mouth sucking in all the right places. You wanted to clench your thighs around his head, to feel him against your skin. But he kept his distance, reminding you who was in charge as he devoured your cunt. Fred was purposefully watching in awe, refusing to touch himself until the time was right. If he was being honest he feared he would cum too fast to the pornographic sight before him. It wasn’t long before the knot inside of you tightened, your warnings muffled by the tie. Draco grinned in sadistic satisfaction as you came, your heart pounding as he pulled away from your cunt.

Mockingly he opened your folds again, shaking his head. “Not red enough,” He concluded. As if the two were able to read each other’s minds Fred rose from his chair, rummaging through the mysterious velvet box. He pulled out a black vibrator, nonchalantly handing it to Draco. The blonde was quick to turn it on, purposefully placing it on the highest setting. Your whines were muffled as he placed it on your clit, your thighs trembling at the sensation. “Awe what’s wrong darling? Can’t handle a simple toy?” He asked mockingly. Your eyes screwed shut, shocks of pleasure running up your spine. A sharp slap to your thigh made your eyes reopen, a stern look painted across Draco’s face. “Eyes open slut. You close them again and i’ll leave you here for Mattheo and Theo’s entertainment,” He snarled. You whimpered at the thought, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards and grinding shamelessly against the vibrator.

“Cmon slut i’m getting bored,” Draco sighed. He lifted up your folds, placing the vibrator directly on top of your abused clit. Your back arched off of the mattress, your legs shaking violently as you released. Juices you weren’t familiar with squirted from your cunt, your eyes wide as you panted. Draco smirked, looking over at Fred. “I say we ruin her now, what do you think?” He asked. The same mischievous smirk crossed Fred’s lips, the two approaching you. You were dazed as they rearranged you, your elbows and knees digging into the comforter. Draco removed the gag from your mouth, your lungs instantly inhaling as much oxygen as they could. A cold leather collar was secured around your neck, the sound of the chain rattling sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up, Draco glaring down at you. “Open up your mouth,” He barked. Fred yanked on the chain, forcing you to balance yourself on your hands.

Lazily you flattened your tongue out across your bottom lip, Fred’s familiar hands massaging the mounds of your ass. “Fuckin slut, wanting to suck another mans dick?” Fred spat coldly, slapping your ass. Your gasp was the perfect opportunity for Draco to shove himself inside of your mouth, your noise muffled.

“What a dirty cumslut,” Draco sneered, grabbing a handful of your hair. You whimpered at the pain, feeling Fred slide into you with ease. “You’re this fuckin wet? Over being used and abused? Filthy,” Fred growled. Tears flooded your waterline as Fred bottomed out, the ginger not hesitating to repeatedly thrust into you. Draco grinned sadistically as he began his own fun, forcing your jaw to go slack as he face fucked you. As Draco abused your throat Fred yanked at the leash, restricting your airway. You felt light headed, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth as both boys spat degrading profanities. You couldn’t breathe, your vision becoming spotty. Unable to tell them you arched your back, fully leaning onto the collar for support. Your head began to spin, the feeling of another orgasm rising quickly. It didn’t take long for Fred’s warm cum to fill your cunt, or for the taste of Draco’s salty cum to flood your throat. Their strong hands kept you upright, your body shaking as your final orgasm sent you into an unavoidable darkness.

The unlikely duo stared down at your unconscious body, a thick bruise forming around your neck from the collar. Your cunt was red and puffy, full of Fred’s seed. It dripped down your thighs as you peacefully slept, your body spent. It was satisfying in a way, seeing you so content after destroying you. “We should do this again sometime,” Draco said, redressing himself. Fred shot him a dirty look, putting his shirt back on. “Are you suggesting you fuck my girlfriend again?” He asked.

Draco brushed stray hairs out of your face, his caring expression mirroring Fred’s.

You contemplated knocking. Or was that too respectful? They didn’t own the place, if anything they were prisoners. So instead you pushed the door open, the old wood creaking and initially resisting you until you forced it to swing wide open. “Hello?” You called out. You grumbled unhappily as you tried a light switch. You don’t even know why you bothered. Of course it didn’t work. You dug a flashlight out of your jacket, shining it around. “Jeffrey? Benjamin? EJ?” You called out, your voice echoing. An unsettling creak from upstairs sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Goddammit, this mission was stupid. You were a creep, an immortal killer just like the rest of them yet here you were, playing detective. What were the proxies names?

“Masky? Hoodie? Tobias?” You said loudly, knowing your voice would travel. The front door slammed shut behind you as you entered. “Who the hell chooses the name Masky and Hoodie?” You muttered critically to yourself. Wasn’t the only perk of becoming a proxy the ability to rebrand yourself into whatever you want? You grumbled curses as you explored the house, walking into the oversized dining hall. “What did they all fuckin leave or something?” You murmured under your breath. You found a piece of paper on the table, the white a stark contrast to the red velvet table runner. “Come find us and get a reward?” You read aloud. You angrily crumbled the paper, tossing it. “Seriously? What is this bullshit? My rewards gonna be beating all of your stupid asses,” You growled. You stormed through the living room, scanning the area with your flashlight.

You were there to do them a favor and here they were planting knock off papers from Slenders forest? No thank you. The dust made your nose crinkle as you stepped into the kitchen, along with the horrid scent of leftover junk food. “Good to know they can feed themselves,” You commented, your tone full of judgment. You decided the first floor was getting you no where, so you went up to the second floor. That was where you made your mistake.

The corridor seemed endless as you checked each room. A bathroom, maids corner, guest room, extra kitchen for servants, all empty. You knew it would be wiser for you to just go home. To say fuck this and fuck you. You could tell Trenderman with a good conscience these losers wanted to play games so you couldn’t find them. Surely if Slender is sheltering them so much he would know how absurd they could behave. You trudged over to final door at the end of the long corridor. One little sweep and you’d leave, claiming what you’ve known all along: Slender’s proxies and three longest residing creeps were morons who had way too much free time on their hands. You pushed open the door, the hinges creaking in protest. Waving your flashlight around, something made you pause.

It wasn’t as dusty, the air less stale. Hesitantly you walked into the room, getting a few feet inside before the door was slammed shut behind you. Even with their moonlight peering through the curtains, you couldn’t tell who it was. A pair of large hands grabbed you, a gloved hand covering your mouth as they pulled you backwards. “Don’t scream,” The voice ordered. Was that Masky? Since when had he gotten so strong? Your back was planted directly against his chest, your ass against his already half hard cock. You swallowed as you waved the flashlight around, noticing all of the others coming out of hiding. “So you did find us. Impressive princess. Thought you’d be a weakling and give up,” Jeff commented tauntingly, tilting his head back to laugh at his own joke. Ben tilted his head to the side as he studied you. “Alright hot stuff out with it, what are you doing here?” The blonde asked, moving his scruffy hair out of his eyes. Ahh so he did end up growing out of the legend of Zelda get up. Cute.

Masky removed his hand, allowing you to breathe fully. “Hands off jackass,” You immediately grumble, removing yourself from Masky’s grip. You crossed your arms defensively. What were you even supposed to tell them? You couldn’t give away your mission without becoming a snitch. You thought of Trenderman and how disappointed in you he’d be if you were a rat. So you needed to lie, even if that meant sacrificing your ego. “I just wanted to see how you all were doing. Ya know, heard you got grounded,” You reply as casually as humanly possible. Toby piped up cheerfully, his goggles bouncing as he did so. “A-Actually we prefer to refer to it as temporary b-banishment,” He clarified. Did the title of their vacation really need so many different names?

“Came to see us huh? And since when have you given any kind of a fuck about us?” Hoodie asked dryly. You glared at him with an icy look. You should’ve known either Hoodie or EJ would call you out on your bullshit. “Hey a girl can want to have fun,” You protested. Jeff chuckled darkly as he slyly walked over, backing you right back up against Masky again. His pale hands shot out and placed itself on the door behind you. His pale arms effectively caged you in, his obsidian eyes boring into yours with so much intensity you found your breath hitching. “Yeah? You wanna have fun with us? It’s cute, I would’ve never taken you for that type of gal,” Jeff purred. Your eyebrows furrowed as his cold fingers pushed the sleeve of your tank top down. “But hey, a girls got needs. And we most surely could use some entertainment being stuck here,” The pale killer rambled. You felt Masky’s large hands grabbing your hips, holding you in place.

A protest began to form on your lips, Jack quick to interrupt you. “I can smell your arousal. Does the idea of us having our way with you turn you on that much?” The demon asked. Your body tensed as the tallest man approached you, looking down at you like a predator would his prey. “Don’t even think about lying to me, does the idea turn you on, yes or no?” Jack asked bluntly. Your thighs rubbed together at the humiliating question, Masky subtly rolling his hips against yours from behind. You bit back a whimper, knowing your panties were soaked. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way princess. Your choice. Just know Hoodies gonna record it all for a movie night later,” Masky whispered into your ear. You shook your head no, earning a collective groan from the boys. “Not turned on huh? I’ll turn you on,” Ben said confidently, sinking to his knees in front of you. Toby was quick to drop his hatchet, ripping off his mask. “Absolutely not, p-piss off elf,” The youngest proxy growled. Cold air passed your skin as they shoved down your shorts and panties, their strong hands prying your legs open forcefully. You gazed into Jeff’s intimidating eyes, the pale killer watching every single micro expression you made.

You let out a moan as both boys began to assault your sopping folds, Jeff quick to take the opportunity of your open mouth. His version of kissing was all tongue and teeth, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. Masky’s gloved hand moved to your throat, squeezing lightly. The sensation was enough to make your head spin, EJ and Hoodie pulling at your shirt and bra. You grinded your hips against Ben and Toby’s eager tongues, moaning sloppily into Jeff’s mouth. “Told you not to lie to me and look at where it’s gotten you,” Jack purred, his large hand cupping your left breast, teasing the flesh. Hoodie accompanied your other side, painfully poking and prodding at your right nipple. The stark contrast made your head spin even more. All of their touches were so different. “Being used as a common whore. Tsk tsk. How will you ever explain this to Trenderman?” Jack snickered. Jeff pulled off of your mouth, allowing your sinful noises to echo as he attached his mouth to your neck. He sucked hard and bit down, marking you in hickies and bite marks. “Open your mouth,” Jack ordered. You did as instructed, the cannibal unexpectedly shoving two fingers inside and ordering you to suck.

You bobbed your head up and down on his fingers, struggling to keep up as your core began to tighten. Toby’s tongue prodded at your entrance while Ben’s lips sucked at your clit. You couldn’t even warn them, your mouth stuffed full and eyes rolling back as you experienced your first round of euphoria. Your legs shook, Toby and Ben slurping up your juices loudly and absurdly. Jeff finally pulled off of your neck, smirking like a sadistic vampire. “Alright alright give the lady some room to breathe boys, we gotta figure out who’s going first,” Jeff ordered, waving his hand. Slowly all hands pulled off of you, except for Masky, whose gloved hands sat on your hips. “Going first? The fuck you mean going first?” Hoodie asked, ready to argue until his head exploded. Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose. “You really want this to be a shitty porno where two of us are stuck with handjobs while another three get to fuck her? No thanks,” Jeff argued. You swallowed, feeling nervous and incredibly aroused as they began to bicker on how to fuck you. You had never felt so wanted in your life.

“Enough. Why don’t we do this in duos? Jeff goes first with Masky, I’ll go with Hoodie, then Ben and Toby,” Jack suggested. He slipped off his hoodie, tossing it aside. “H-Hey why do we have to go last?” Toby asked defensively. Ben was quick to join his side. “Yeah what the hell is that about?” The blonde questioned. If Jack had eyes, he would’ve rolled them so hard he would’ve seen the back of his head. “Because you two are hopeless munches who will clean up our mess. Got it?” Jack said. Collectively Ben and Toby let out an ohhh, nodding in agreement. Masky squeezed your hip, lifting his mask to get close to your ear. “Don’t be nervous, i’ll start off slow,” He murmured, the words bringing you comfort as six sets of eyes (technically five) were on you. Masky guided you over to the bed, repositioning you to all fours. “Doggy style huh? Me likey,” Jeff purred, shrugging off his own hoodie. The sound of Masky’s belt clinking made a shiver run down your spine. “I’m taking her cunt,” Masky said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Jeff chuckled darkly, crawling in front of you.

“No arguments here, I wanna see her drool on my cock,” Jeff replied. His slender fingers grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he unbuttoned his pants. “Why don’t you use your teeth to unzip me? Put that pretty mouth to good use,” Jeff suggested, his tone indicating no suggestion at all. You used your teeth to unzip his jeans zipper, meanwhile Masky’s gloved hand guiding you to arch your back. He teased your slick with the head of his cock, a whimper escaping you. “Desperate little thing,” Hoodie commented from the sidelines. A camera sat in his hands as he palmed himself through his jeans, recording the unholy sight with ease. You were so distracted you didn’t notice Jeff had fully pulled his length out, his hand tangling itself in your hair and yanking you to his cock. You took the pale killer in your mouth, Jeff impatient. He slammed into the back of your throat, causing you to sputter and gag. Masky slowly slid inside of you, giving another stimulation for you to focus on.

Tears flooded your waterline as Jeff began to throat fuck you. “Loosen your fuckin jaw. I’d like to tell you i’m the biggest cock you’re gonna have the pleasure of sucking tonight but Jack’s packin some real heat,” Jeff said, his voice strained. You tried to loosen your jaw, focusing on Masky slowly fucking you from behind. His pacing was different than you expected. He fucked you slow and hard, your walls clinging to him. “She’s so tight, milking me,” Masky panted, gripping your hips to guide you back against him. He watched as your ass jiggled with each stroke, the sounds of you gagging and whimpering only stroking the proxies ego. Jeff tugged at your hair harder, forcing his cock impossibly deeper. “If I feel your teeth one more fuckin time, I swear to fuck-” Jeff began to threaten. As Masky began to pick up the pace your mouth opened more, craving oxygen and to let out sinful moans. “Masky!” You moaned, your noises silenced by Jeff finally getting his way.

He happily rammed into your throat, curses spewing from his lips. Your moans were muffled as tears flooded your waterline, running freshly down your face. Behind you Masky slithered his gloved hand down to your clit, rubbing fast circles around it. “Cmon pretty girl, be good for us and cum,” Masky grunted, not far from his own orgasm. You looked up at Jeff, as if silently asking for permission and fuck, the pale killer immediately caved. “You heard him, cum,” He grunted, those simple words as much praise as he could produce. Your hands braced on Jeff’s thighs as another orgasm washed over you. Masky couldn’t help himself, shamelessly groaning and cumming deep inside of you. Jeff relished in the fact he didn’t cum first, shoving his cock so far your nose was buried in his short pubes as he came down your throat. You squirmed and coughed, the killer grinning ear to ear as he pulled out, enjoying watching you struggle. The two men began to redress, feeling smug after destroying you after only one single round.

“You alright if I take her mouth?” Jack asked Hoodie, knowing it would be better if he didn’t have your cunt. He was half demon with animalistic tendencies, he was sure his hormones would cause him to actually claim you as a mate. And no offense to you, but he didn’t know you like that and didn’t plan on mating in front of his best friends and worst enemies at the same time. “Of course, I want a good view of her taking me to the brim,” Hoodie snickered, gripping his retro cam recorder. They flipped you onto your back, Hoodie reaching over and slapping one of your breasts. You yelped, the proxy snickering as he zoomed in on your face and then the red welt forming on your skin. Above you Jack undid his pants, his large cock hanging over your face. Your eyes were wide, holy fuck, Jeff wasn’t kidding. “I’m not quite sure that’ll fit,” You admit, suddenly thankful Hoodie, no matter how sadistic, was between your legs and not Jack. The cannibal strokes your hair as a mocking tender gesture. “You can use your hands little rabbit,” He permitted, slapping the head of his cock against your lips.

Meanwhile once Hoodie had freed himself from his pants, he was quick and violent to shove his cock inside of you. “Fuck!” You whimpered, Hoodie immediately settling a bruising pace. The proxy laughed as you opened your mouth, giving Jack the opportunity to slip inside. The demon could hear your heart pounding. He could smell your arousal and hear every single little noise that boiled in your throat. He let out a strangled groan under his mask as you managed to take him halfway in, my eyes watering and your nose struggling to inhale as the remainder of his cock sat in your way. Hoodie fucked you so hard you were beginning to see stars, the disorienting kind that made it hard to think. “Such a pretty cunt, needs something extra,” Hoodie growled. He spat on your slick, rubbing it around with his gloved hand. He grinned under his mask, only fucking you harder. “That looks about right,” He hummed. As you struggled to suck Jack properly you could hear Hoodie drop the cam recorder, pushing your legs up to your chest. Jack, ever so the gentleman, grabbed the spots behind your knees, keeping you folded into a pretzel. Hoodie had never been more fond of the demon as he used his now free hands to slap your thighs, creating red marks in their wake.

Jack continued to throat train you, pulling out briefly and watching you gasp for air before shoving himself back in halfway. He began to fuck your throat, the vibrations from your muffled moans enough extra stimulation for him not to complain. Hoodie’s assault became more ruthless as he drove into you, his thrusts rocking the bed back and forth. You began flinching everytime he moved, the pain and pleasure making you dizzy. Jacks grunts turned into moans as he yanked himself out of your mouth, jerking his cock and cumming on your chest. His cum decorated your breasts in white with a slight tint of gray streaks. Noticing your struggle to handle Hoodie, he leaned down, getting close to your ear. “I know he’s rough but it’s only because you’re such a good girl for us,” Jack said roughly. You squirmed as the proxy slapped your clit, his pace relentless. Jack licked his lips before tucking some stray hairs behind your ears. “You can keep doing that right? Being a good girl for us? You’ve done so good so far,” Jack praised huskily. You pawed at Jacks arm, gripping it for support. You nodded, desperately trying to hang on as your brain turned to mush.

“I’m a good girl,” You babbled. Jack reached his hand down to your swollen clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. “There we go. That’s it. Now why don’t you cum for us hmm? Hoodie would love to see you’ve appreciated his hard work,” Jack suggested. Under his mask he shot Hoodie a warning look, knowing you’d break if he kept up this treatment any longer. You squeezed Jacks arm, biting your bottom lip. “Gonna cum, fuck wait, gonna squirt, I can’t-” You rambled, your body trembling as you squirted on Hoodies cock and Jacks hand. Your nails dug into Jacks arm as Hoodie fucked you through your orgasm, unable to hold himself back any longer. His cum mixed with Masky’s as he came deep inside of you, grunting as he did so. You were out of breath, Hoodie quick to pull out and record the combined fluids dripping out from your abused hole. He used two fingers to spread open your folds, zooming in on how red and abused your cunt was. Jack cleared his throat, a subtle reminder and warning he needed to get out of the way.

As Ben and Toby rounded the bed you let out a whine. “I-I can’t, body hurts, I-I can’t,” You stammered, overstimulation making you twitch. Toby and Ben shared knowing looks, Ben approaching you. “We’re just gonna get you cleaned up. Think you can handle that? Can’t have you walking around in cum, can we?” He asked you. You reluctantly agreed, your body spent. Their sets of large hands guided you to stand, your legs wobbly. “I got her,” Masky grunted, rising from his chair and guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders as he stood in front of you. Ben and Toby sank to their knees, Toby in front and Ben behind you. You tensed, looking down at the blonde. “I’ve never taken anyone there, I-I-” You stuttered. Masky found your babbles adorable, his hands affectionately tracing your curves. “You’re not taking anything babe, we’re just cleaning you up. Ain’t that right Toby?” Ben said proudly, spreading your ass apart. His red eyes were full of hunger, Toby eagerly nodding in agreement. You looked at Masky, your knees buckling at the feeling of Toby licking a stripe off of your cunt. Another set of strong hands grabbed you from behind, Jacks familiar scent flooding your nostrils.

With Jack and Masky holding you upright, Toby and Ben began to properly feast. The fluids leaking out of your cunt had dripped down to your ass, Ben eager to clean you up, his tongue teasing the tight rim but never prodding too heavy. Meanwhile Toby was in heaven, gripping your abused thighs as he lapped at the combination of fluids leaking out of you. Your moans were nothing but mindless curses or names, your body shaking from overstimulation. “She’s a good slut isn’t she? Taking what we give her?” Jeff commented from the sidelines. Him and Hoodie had cracked open some beers, recording you as you hung on for dear life. On the floor below you, both Toby and Ben began shamelessly jerking their cocks as they cleaned you thoroughly with their tongues. You fell forward slightly, your head resting on Masky’s shoulder as broken moans escaped your lips.

Toby lapped and sucked, his tongue lapping at your entrance as the fluids dripped more and more out of you. His hand jerked his cock uncontrollably. His neck twitched ever so often, the youngest proxy devouring your folds with pride. Ben stroked his cock so fast he wanted to cum just from your mere taste. Their tongues devoured you from top to bottom, your hands pawing at Masky’s jacket and hanging on for dear life. “Feels so good, like i’m floating,” You murmured. Masky realized quickly you had slipped into subspace, giving Jack a knowing look, even with their masks in the way. Jacks large hands slithered around your chest, gently pinching and rubbing your nipples until they hardened again. You reached down and gripped at Toby’s head. “I can’t cum again, I can’t,” You whined. Masky reached up and held your face in his gloved hands. “Just one more time. You’ve been such a good girl. Just one more,” He promised. Toby was close, his whimpers muffled by your slick as he came. The vibrations made you squirm, the youngest proxy making a mess on himself. Ben wasn’t far behind him, noting Toby continuing to eat you out like a man starved.

Ben came all over his hand, his cock twitching as he used the newly released hand to pry your ass back open. Your final orgasm was teetering the line of painful, your eyes screwing shut as you came again. Toby reluctantly pulled away from your folds, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

The lake was so still. The kind of stillness that made the air heavy, as if even the water held its breath in anticipation. Moonlight fractured across the surface in sharp, silver shards, illuminating the awkward shapes of two figures dragging something heavy across the moss-slick ground.

You and Toby.

The corpse hung between you like an anchor, its weight making your arms ache with each step. The smell of damp earth and decay was thick in your nose. Every time Toby shifted his grip, the body smacked against the ground with a dull thud.

“Careful,” you hissed, slipping on a wet root. “It’s not going to sink if you—”

“Maybe if you d-didn’t drop your end every t-two seconds,” Toby grunted, voice muffled under his bulky muzzle, “we’d be done a-al-already.”

You glared, tugging on your end. “Excuse me for not wanting to ruin my boots in swamp water.”

“Oh, right,” he shot back, sarcasm dripping, “because t-this job is about fashion.”

The two of you stumbled to the edge of the shore, shadows from the Slenderwoods curling around you. The trees loomed like sentinels, tall and skeletal, their branches swaying with a sound that was almost a whisper. You hated this place at night—the way the silence seemed alive, watching, waiting. Toby, of course, didn’t seem to care. He didn’t care about anything, as far as you were concerned.

You heaved the body once, twice, then shoved it into the water with a final grunt. It splashed hard, ripples spreading outward until the lake swallowed them whole. You didn’t know the man, didn’t even really care to, it was just another job from the Operator. For a moment, you both just stood there, catching your breath, staring at the dark water as the final inches of the body sunk into the abyss.

“Happy now?” you muttered.

“Real p-pro-professional,” he replied flatly.

Your teeth ground together. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a pain in the ass,” he shot back without hesitation.

The exchange was so familiar it almost felt rehearsed. Every mission ended like this: harsh words, rolled eyes, and the tension of two people forced into each other’s orbit who simply didn’t fit. The only difference is Masky wasn’t here to break it up.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried.

When Slender first made you both proxies, you’d done what Masky and Hoodie told you: learn each other’s strengths, cover each other’s weaknesses, trust is mandatory. And you tried. You really did. But from the very first mission, something had been off.

Maybe it was his immaturity—the way he cracked jokes in the middle of grim work, or the way he blew off orders to do things his own reckless way. Maybe it was your frustration—your need for control clashing violently against his chaos. Every step he took felt like it undermined yours. Every word out of his mouth made your patience snap just a little thinner. 

You weren’t blind, though. You saw how efficient he was, how quickly his hatchets moved, how easily he carried violence without hesitation. He was good—annoyingly good. Which made it worse. Because you should have worked well together. You were both proxies, bound to the same faceless master, trapped in the same mansion and forest. On paper, it made sense. In practice? You were oil and water.

Some people just weren’t meant to click.

“Guess we’re d-done here,” Toby muttered, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, the brief flare of orange glow painting his face in harsh lines as he unstrapped his muzzle to take a drag. “W-We’ll never get a-along, will we?”

You gave a humorless laugh, wiping splatters of mud from your jeans. “Not a chance.”

He exhaled smoke into the night, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “Fine by me.”

The lake was silent again, just as still as if there wasn’t a body sinking to the bottom now. You turned, hauling back toward the direction of the mansion and away from him, but the walk back was worse than the mission itself. The Slenderwoods closed in on all sides, branches scraping like claws, owls hooting too low, too human. Every shadow moved if you stared too long, but none of that was as grating as the boy trudging a few feet beside you.

“You could’ve at least waited before stabbing him like that,” you grumbled, pulling your jacket tighter against the chill. “The plan was to corner him—”

“The p-plan was slow,” Toby interrupted, his voice sharp and smug. “He was running. I stopped h-him. Problem solved.”

“Problem solved?” you scoffed. “You nearly blew our cover, dipshit. He screamed loud enough to wake the entire county.”

Toby snorted, kicking a stone off the path. “Still got h-him in the end, didn’t we? He’s f-fish food now. You’re welcome.”

You threw him a glare sharp enough to cut. “I didn’t ask you to play hero. There’s a difference between efficiency and being reckless, and you wouldn’t know it if it hit you in the face.”

He tilted his head, grinning as he puffed a dark cloud of cigarette smoke towards you. “Guess t-that makes me reckless, then.”

The banter didn’t stop until the looming silhouette of the mansion swallowed you both in its shadow. The Slendermansion sat hunched at the edge of the woods, its black windows like hollow eyes. The air grew heavier the closer you got, as if the walls themselves were listening, feeding.

Inside, the floorboards creaked beneath your boots as you tossed your gear onto the table in the main hall. The familiar smell of stale smoke, mildew, and faint copper clung to the air, but it was the home you knew. Masky was already there, arms crossed, watching the two of you like a teacher sick of breaking up the same fight between the same students.

“You two done?” Masky asked flatly, eyes narrowing.

“Ask him,” you said at once.

“Ask her,” Toby fired back.

Masky groaned, dragging a hand down his mask. “Every damn time…”

From the couch, Hoodie let out a quiet snicker without looking up from his notebook he was sketching in. He never interfered much, but the slight shake of his shoulders told you he found your constant arguments entertaining. Infuriatingly entertaining.

Kate was sprawled in one of the armchairs, cleaning one of her knives with a rag. She raised her eyes just long enough to catch the tail end of your glare-and-growl routine. “You both need to grow up,” she said bluntly.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Toby beat you to it. “I a-am grown up,” he said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, flicking the final ashes from his cigarette onto the grimy floor before tossing it.

Kate arched a brow. “Mhm.”

You smirked at that, but it only lasted a second before Toby turned his mockery back on you. “D-D-Don’t get too fuckin’ cheeky—you’re not e-exactly winning any maturity awards e-either.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Says the guy who nearly fucked up tonight’s mission by charging in like a bulldozer.”

“And you would’ve l-let him get away while you m-made a speech ab-about ‘proper execution,’” Toby countered, mimicking your voice in a whiny falsetto that made Hoodie snort louder.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, throwing yourself into the opposite armchair with a huff.

Masky’s sigh was sharp, final. “I don’t care how you got it done. The point is, it’s done. Next time, don’t cause such a fuss and just get the damn thing over with.”

The words settled between you like a warning. But even warnings didn’t last long in this house. The air was too thick, the walls too close. You felt Toby’s eyes on you from across the room, smug, as if he’d won something.

You looked away first.

And that was the problem. Around Masky, Hoodie, and Kate, you could breathe. The dynamic worked. Missions went smoothly enough. The mansion felt tolerable, almost like a twisted version of family. But with Toby? It was always barbed words, tense silences, and the gnawing thought that you’d never, ever get along.

And yet… you were stuck together, whether you liked it or not.

── .✦

Life in the mansion was cramped, but not in the physical sense. The house itself stretched wide and tall, with too many rooms, too many halls that seemed to change direction when you weren’t looking. Space wasn’t the problem. People were. Or more specifically—Toby.

Morning started with a fight more often than breakfast.

You were standing in the kitchen, half-awake, nursing a chipped mug of bitter coffee when Toby barreled in, raiding the cabinet like a raccoon.

“Did you ta-take the last of t-the cereal?” he asked, voice scratchy from sleep.

“No,” you said, sipping slowly. “Kate did yesterday.”

Toby pulled the box down anyway, stared at the empty bottom, and turned on you. “So you k-knew and didn’t say an-anything?”

“Not my job to babysit your stomach,” you said dryly, turning your back on him.

By the time he stomped off, Hoodie was already leaning against the doorway, watching the exchange like it was a morning sitcom rerun. He muttered something about “placing bets next time” before pouring his own coffee and disappearing.

Later, it was weapons.

You had your knives laid out on the coffee table, sharpening them methodically, when Toby came over and plucked one up without asking.

“Don’t touch my stuff.”

“Relax,” he said, flipping the blade in his palm. “I was j-just looking.”

“Looking with your fingerprints all over it,” you snapped, snatching it back.

Masky’s sigh from the couch was loud enough to shake the windows. “I swear, it’s like living with children.”

Kate didn’t even look up from the book in her lap. “That’s because it is.”

Toby threw his hands up. “What, so s-she can throw a fit but I’m the p-problem?”

“Yes,” Kate and Masky said in unison. You couldn’t help smirking at that.

Dinner was the worst. 

The table was long enough for space, but somehow you and Toby always ended up across from each other. Tonight it was stew—Masky’s attempt at “normalcy,” though the meat was questionable at best. You didn’t eat together often, but it was a joint effort when you did.

“Don’t hog the b-bread,” Toby said, reaching across the table.

“I’ve had one piece,” you shot back, yanking the plate closer.

He lunged, you pulled away, and in the struggle the whole loaf toppled onto Hoodie’s lap. He froze, staring down at the mess, then at both of you with the slow, simmering irritation of a man two seconds from throwing something heavy. Kate snorted. Masky pinched the bridge of his nose.

Slender wasn’t around much, but you sometimes wondered if he kept you two paired just for his own amusement. Because every day, it was something. The fights were never big enough to break anything, never serious enough to leave bruises. But they stacked. They simmered. They filled the halls like static, humming between every word and every glare. And yet, for all the irritation, all the arguments, neither of you ever walked away for long. Missions still got done. The mansion still ran. Somehow, despite it all, the two of you stayed orbiting each other—gravitational pull you couldn’t escape, even if you wanted to.

── .✦

It was one of those heavy, still evenings where the Slenderwoods felt closer than usual. The air smelled like damp pine and smoke, a thick fog mist rolling over the dense grass underfoot. You and the others sat out on the creaking porch, ashtrays cluttered between boots and half-empty bottles of water. Masky smoked slow and deep, his mask balancing on the top of his thigh as he leaned back onto the wooden seat. Kate leaned back against the railing, picking at the chipping paint on the wood, eyes sharp but distant. Toby sat a little too close to you, tapping his leg like a drumbeat you couldn’t ignore.

You lit your own, trying not to acknowledge him, exhaling a sharp cloud into the humid night.

“So…” Toby finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Anyone e-else notice she always steals the li-lighter first?”

You shot him a look. “I do not.”

“Shut up, boy.” Masky started.

“Yeah, you do,” he said, grinning beneath the thick goggles that he had pushed up into his hairline. “It’s l-like a compulsion or something.”

“Or maybe you’re just too slow to keep track of your things,” you fired back.

Masky groaned low under his breath, muttering something that sounded like not this again. Before the argument could spiral, Hoodie pushed open the porch door and stepped outside, tucking his notebook into his jacket. His voice cut through the quiet with the weight of a dumbbell on your chest. “New mission,” he said simply.

Everyone straightened.

“All of us?” Masky asked.

Hoodie nodded. “Yeah. Orders came down. Tonight.”

The group exchanged looks. Missions that required everyone weren’t common—they usually split duties to keep the mansion covered. When all five were pulled, it meant something bigger, something messier.

“Guess family outing it is,” Kate said dryly, dumping her ashtray onto the gravel siding below.

── .✦

When darkness settled fully, the mansion stirred alive. Boots thudded against wood floors, gear clinked against belts, and weapons gleamed under dim light. Everyone had their rituals: Masky checked his sidearm three times at least, Hoodie adjusted straps across his chest, Kate wiped down her blade a final time. Toby spun his hatchets between his fingers like a magician showing off. You rolled your eyes and double-checked the knives at your thigh. The air was thick with anticipation. 

The pickup truck waited outside, dark paint faded from the sun, battered, and smelling faintly of gasoline and smoke. Masky slid into the driver’s seat without a word, Hoodie riding shotgun as he pulled up the map on his cracked cellphone. 

That left the back.

You climbed in, immediately pressed against the left side. Toby hopped up on the right, his knee bouncing instantly like he was vibrating with restless energy. Kate sighed and planted herself squarely between the two of you, arms crossed, glaring dead ahead through the windshield.  The truck dipped and squeaked on its hinges are you all settled in, then rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the black woods.

It only took a few minutes before Toby started.

“You’re sitting t-too close,” he muttered.

“I’m not even near you,” you said flatly.

“You do-don’t need that m-much space.”

“You don’t need to breathe, but here we are,” you shot back.

Kate’s elbows shot out, hitting both of your ribs at once. “Shut up. Both of you.”

You winced, rubbing your side. “Ow—”

“Don’t tempt me to hit harder,” Kate warned, eyes forward.

Masky’s voice floated back from the front seat, dripping with amusement despite himself. “This is going to be a long drive. Quit fighting and occupy yourselves.”

Hoodie didn’t even look up from the map. “Longest one yet.”

The engine hummed, the woods blurred past, and the truck rolled deeper into the dark. Despite Kate’s solid wall between you, you could still feel Toby’s presence—like static in the air, buzzing just out of reach. And you hated how much you noticed it.

── .✦

The truck rattled down the backroads for nearly an hour before Hoodie finally spoke.

“Target’s in the clearing past Miller’s Gorge,” he said, tapping the map image across his phone screen. “Couple of locals have been sniffing around the woods, talking about setting up cameras, trying to ‘catch something.’ Boss wants them gone one way or another.”

Kate exhaled a sharp breath. “So like, wannabe monster hunters.”

“Exactly.” Hoodie’s voice was calm but clipped. “They’ve already posted online. If they get anything solid, Slender won’t be happy. This isn’t one we can take half-measures with. We need it erased.”

Masky grunted. “So we wipe the whole camp.”

“Why all of us?” you asked, leaning forward from the back.

“Because there’s at least five of them,” Hoodie replied. “Armed. And cautious. Not idiots out for ghost stories—people who want proof. People who will fight back. They apparently realize that the stuff they’re hunting is more than just ghosts.”

The weight of his words settled in the truck. Everyone went quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and Toby’s restless knee bouncing against the truck bed.

“Should b-be fun,” Toby muttered.

── .✦

When the truck finally rolled to a stop, the woods were suffocatingly dark, thick with crickets and the distant sound of running water. Masky killed the headlights, and everyone piled out, boots crunching softly against dead leaves.

The air was tense but focused. The group fanned out at the tree line, eyes scanning the faint glow of campfire in the distance. Voices drifted—male, confident, laughing, the kind of laugh people made when they didn’t know what waited for them.

Masky handed out orders quietly. “Pairs. Hoodie with Kate. I’ll take her. Toby—” He paused, as if even he hated saying it. “You circle wide and cut off any stragglers.”

Toby scoffed. “Solo? Figures.”

“No one wants to deal with your noise,” Kate said bluntly, earning a sharp laugh from Hoodie.

Toby shot her a look, but Masky had already moved, tilting his head toward you. “Stay sharp.”

You fell in beside him easily. Working with Masky was… natural. His movements were measured, precise, and he didn’t waste time on unnecessary words. You mirrored his pace without thinking, both of you flowing silently through the trees like you’d trained together for years. Every signal he gave, you read instantly. Every shift you made, he accounted for. It was seamless.

Behind you, faintly, you heard the sound of Toby muttering curses under his breath as he hacked through brush on his solo path. You didn’t have to see him to know he was irritated.

Masky glanced your way briefly, as if he could read your thoughts. “Ignore him.”

You smirked faintly. “That’s the plan.”

Together, you and Masky reached the edge of the camp without a sound. You crouched low, watching the five men move lazily around the fire, rifles slung across the backs of their folding chairs, a camera rig propped against a log. Beer cans were littered everywhere, dozens of containers of eaten food and trash on the forest floor between their tents. They were unprepared.

Masky leaned close, voice low. “On my signal, we take the two closest. Hoodie and Kate will flank right. Toby will cut off anyone who runs.”

You nodded, knives already loose in your grip. The firelight flickered across the blades, and the thrill of the hunt tingled in your chest.

For the first time all night, you felt steady. Focused. Like the tension from the mansion and the truck ride had melted away into clarity. This—this was what you were good at.

Masky snapped his fingers, the unspoken signal.

The campfire crackled, throwing lazy sparks into the night. The men didn’t know they were being watched. Didn’t know that five shadows had slipped into their circle of light like wolves closing in.

Masky moved first. His pistol coughed quietly through the silencer, a muted pop, and the man nearest the fire slumped forward without a sound. At the same time, Hoodie slipped behind the next, arm locking around his throat, blade pressing in until the man’s gurgle faded. Kate was quicksilver, gliding from shadow to shadow before sinking her knife between ribs and twisting, her target crumpling into the dirt while her hand held tight over his gaping mouth. You were already in motion, your knives flashing as you closed the distance. Your target barely had time to look up before you drove steel across his throat. Hot blood spilled, spraying across the fire, sizzling as it hit the flames. You let him drop, pulse steady, breathing smooth.

It was clean. Precise. The four of you moved like clockwork.

Then a shout split the clearing.

You spun, heart lurching, eyes scanning. One of them had bolted—no, not bolted. He’d seen and decided to fight back. Toby’s voice rang out through the trees, strained, guttural. “Got one!”

Through the smoke, you saw him—locked in a brutal struggle with the biggest of the group. Broad-shouldered, stronger than the others, swinging wild fists that clipped Toby’s jaw and nearly sent him sprawling. Toby snarled, teeth bared beneath the thick muzzle, trying to drag the fight into control, but the man was too strong, too desperate. Toby couldn’t feel the punches that were thrown, but they still jarred him nonetheless.

Without thinking, you darted forward. You grabbed the hunter by the collar and yanked him backward off Toby, the two of you wrestling him to the ground. Your knee pressed into his chest, pinning him just long enough to shout—

“Get up! Now!”

Toby staggered to his feet, hatchet already in his grip. His chest heaved, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes wild and bright. He didn’t hesitate.

The hatchet swung.

It sank into the man’s skull with a sickening crunch, the force so hard it sprayed hot blood across your face, soaking into your shirt, spattering down your arms. The warmth hit before the shock did.

You gasped, jerking back in disgust. “Toby!”

He yanked the hatchet free, crimson dripping down the blade, chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. For a second, he looked almost proud of himself.

“You—you just—” You swiped at your face, smearing blood across your cheek. “Are you serious?!”

“What?” he said, shrugging like he hadn’t just drenched you. “I-It worked.”

You stared at him, mouth open, hands sticky with blood. “You could’ve aimed! You could’ve waited until I—”

“There wasn’t time!” he shot back, bristling. “He was go-gonna throw you off. I finished i-it!”

“Finished it? You fuckin’ soaked me with it!” Your voice cracked, frustration boiling over. Blood dripped down your face, sticky, hot, stinking of iron. And Toby just stood there, smug behind his mouth guard, hatchet still wet, staring you up and down.

That was it. You lunged at him.

“HEY—” he barked, staggering back as you grabbed a fistful of his hoodie and slammed him into the dirt. You smeared bloody hands across his face, dragging thick crimson streaks down and across his eyes.

“There!” you spat, shoving harder. “How do you like it?”

Toby snarled and shoved back, the two of you tumbling into a heap of thrashing limbs. He rolled, trying to pin you, but you twisted, fist snapping across his jaw. The crack of impact echoed, sharp in the clearing.

“You’re insane!” he growled, throwing a hand that glanced off your shoulder.

“I’m insane?” you shouted, driving your elbow into his ribs. “You’re the one who—”

The words cut off when you shoved your hands to his throat, pinning him to the ground as he tried to sit up. Your fingers locked tight, squeezing hard. His body bucked beneath you, hatchet clattering out of his grip as he clawed at your wrists.

“Get—off—” he choked, his voice rough, broken. His head thrashed in the dirt, but your grip only tightened. The blood smeared across both of you now, sticky and warm, the world narrowing to the sound of his ragged gasps and the hammering of your pulse.

“Dammit!” Masky barked from somewhere beyond. “Enough!”

Kate’s voice cut sharper. “You’re gonna kill each other!”

But you didn’t stop. Not yet. Not until you felt his pulse falter beneath your palms, until his eyes widened—not with anger, not with panic—but something else.

Something strange.

Toby’s body trembled, his breath stuttering under your hands, but instead of pure desperation, there was… heat. A rush. A dizzying flood through his veins that wasn’t entirely fear. He should have been furious, terrified, clawing harder. But as your fingernails dug into his skin and the world blurred at the edges of his vision, something dark curled inside him. Something you could physically see stirring in him.

“You’re…crazy…” he rasped, the grip of your wrists faltering as his eyelids began to flutter. You felt your heart skip, but it wasn’t enough to register, not when Masky and Kate were on you in a second.

“Enough!” Masky barked, grabbing you by the shoulders and hauling you backward with a force that made your chest wrench from Toby’s throat. Kate shoved between the two of you, her knife still tight in her hand, eyes blazing.

“Are you out of your mind?” she snapped at you. “You’re both fucking children.”

You jerked in Masky’s grip, still seething, still tasting the heat of rage in your mouth. “He’s a fucking idiot!”

Toby rolled onto his side, coughing, ragged gasps rattling out of him. One hand clutched at his throat, the other dug into the dirt, nails carving furrows. Blood was smeared across his face, his hoodie, everywhere—but he wasn’t looking at you, only at the ground beneath him.

For the first time since you’d known him, Toby was silent.

No muttering. No insults. No half-crazed laughter at your expense. Just… silence. He sat up slow, pulling the mouth guard back into place, eyes fixed somewhere past you all. When he stood, it was without a word. He brushed dirt off his hoodie, hatchet hanging limp in his hand, and started toward the edge of the clearing.

“Toby,” Hoodie called after him, tone sharp, warning. But Toby didn’t answer. Didn’t even look back.

The rest of the night crawled like rot under the skin.

You all worked the scene in tense, heavy silence—dragging bodies, dousing blood with gasoline, scattering ash into the brush. Every now and then you caught a glimpse of Toby through the smoke, his shoulders hunched as he hacked the bodies into smaller pieces to fit into the bonfire you were throwing them into, his jaw clenched tight. No jokes. No muttered complaints. Just methodical, mechanical movements.

When you stripped out of your bloodied shirt near the stream nearby, scrubbing your arms raw in the freezing water, you could feel his eyes burning into your back from across the bank. Not glaring. Not mocking. Just… watching. Quiet.

By the time you trudged back to the truck, smelling of iron and smoke and death, Masky was rolling his eyes, muttering about “immaturity.” Kate looked like she wanted to strangle the both of you herself. Hoodie, as usual, said nothing—just kept his cigarette glowing, eyes narrowed.

But Toby? He climbed into the bed of the truck without a sound, hatchet propped against his knee, gaze fixed on the passing trees.

The silence pressed down heavier than the arguing ever had. And the longer it stretched, the more you hated it.

── .✦

The week that followed felt… off.

Toby didn’t pick fights. Not even little ones. Not the tiny jabs that had been part of your daily rhythm—the back-and-forth you’d grown used to, the words that always bounced off walls like sparks. He moved through the mansion like a ghost, quiet, methodical, focused only on smoking, weapons, and missions.

When he did speak, it was clipped, necessary. Orders, reports, directions—never aimed at you. His eyes flicked past, not meeting yours. You caught him glancing at you once or twice when he thought you weren’t looking, but it was fleeting, and every time the sight made your stomach tighten with a strange mix of satisfaction and unease.

The bruises on his throat were obvious even if you didn’t look close. Dark purple and angry against the pale skin, fading slowly but leaving deep, persistent marks. You’d caught him passing in the hallway once and remembered the weight of your hands around him, the raw heat of adrenaline and anger. A pang of guilt twisted in your gut—you’d let him get to you—but alongside it, a sharper, quieter thrill: for the first time, you had one-upped him. You had won.

At first, that smugness warmed you. You told yourself you’d earned it. You replayed the moment in your head, felt the power, the control. Toby hadn’t laughed at you. Toby hadn’t mocked you. He hadn’t even argued. For once, the scales had tipped.

But the relief didn’t last.

Toby didn’t bounce back. Not like every time before. The chaos that had defined him—the relentless teasing, the petty fights, the fire in his voice—was gone. He didn’t sneak into the kitchen and steal your lighter just to rile you. He didn’t flick ash onto your boots and smirk. He didn’t mutter under his breath or make jokes you’d spend the day wanting to punch him for.

The absence was strange. Hollow.

By the third day, it felt almost wrong. The mansion, which had been loud and infuriating, was quieter than it had ever been with him there. You realized you had grown used to his presence—not the violence, not the chaos itself, but the rhythm of it. The constant tension that had made your skin crawl was now a kind of anchor, a pulse you hadn’t realized you relied on.

And now? It was gone.

Every time you passed him in the halls, your chest tightened. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. He wouldn’t speak. He didn’t react to your snide comments or half-hearted insults. You felt a creeping, uncomfortable feeling settle over you. Part guilt. Part frustration. Part… longing? The tension, the conflict, the constant sparring—it had been exhausting, yes. But now, without it, you were left staring at a quiet, withdrawn version of the boy who had once been the most unpredictable part of your day.

The deeper the week stretched on, the more you realized that what you’d thought was triumph had turned into something else entirely: a slow, gnawing emptiness.

You had won the fight. But you might have lost him.

But you should be happy… right?

── .✦

Another mission order came in from Slender. You were checking your gear in the corner of the mansion’s main hall when Hoodie appeared, silently sliding a small pack over his shoulder.

“You’re with me on this one,” he said, voice low, precise, as always.

You nodded, hefting your own weapons, already going through mental checklists. This was routine. Simple. Easy. Comfortable.

Then the door creaked, and Toby stepped in. You froze—just a little. The mansion felt a little smaller with him there. He moved quietly, deliberately, but there was an edge to his posture you hadn’t seen since… that fight.

“I should g-go,” he said.

Your hands stopped mid-adjustment, eyes darting to Hoodie.

“You?” Hoodie asked, brow raised, tone careful. “Like… you two?”

Toby didn’t answer at first. He just leaned against the doorway, faint shadows under his eyes, arms crossed. Then he met Hoodie’s gaze, and there was… determination there. A quiet insistence.

“I’ll handle it,” Toby said. “I need t-to go. Need to get o-out of the house.”

You blinked. Dumbfounded. Alone… with me? Your chest fluttered with a mix of nerves, disbelief, and something else you didn’t want to name yet. You stared at him, really stared, and realized the bruises on his throat were almost gone—just faint traces of pink fading into pale skin.

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair. “It’s alright,” you said, finally. “I can go with him.”

Hoodie’s eyes shifted between the two of you, expression unreadable. Then he let out a long, resigned sigh. “Fine,” he muttered. “But try not to kill each other before you even get there.”

Toby didn’t say anything to you immediately. He just stepped aside, giving you a narrow space to move past him. And then—your eyes met his for the first time all week. No words. No sarcasm. No fights. Just a look that was sharp, quiet, heavy. There was something in it—curiosity, tension, and maybe the barest trace of acknowledgment

You swallowed. He didn’t look like the Toby who laughed at your every irritation or goaded you endlessly. He looked… different. Still the same chaotic energy under the surface, but tempered. Careful. Watching. Waiting.

You nodded once, almost imperceptibly. He nodded back, then stepped out together into the night. The mansion grew smaller behind you, the faint glow of lights fading, and suddenly, the woods felt wider, quieter, trapping the two of you together.

After the mansion had long disappeared behind the two of you, you tried to break the silence first. “So… you actually decided to acknowledge me. Must be a full moon or something.”

Toby glanced at you briefly. A slow, measured nod. “Yep.”

You frowned, adjusting your grip on your pack slung over your shoulder. “And… you’re not going to pick a fight, bark something sarcastic, or pretend you’re better than me this time?”

Another nod. Short, clipped. “Nope.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Wow. Silent Toby. Real terrifying.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance your way. Just kept moving as you followed behind. The tension built like static. Every step you took felt heavier, filled with the weight of all the words unsaid between you. The heat of your own irritation grew, but it was tangled with something else—something that made your stomach twist and pulse.

Time passed, and you knew you were close to your destination when the scent of musk travelled around you.

“You know,” you muttered, testing the waters again, “we could at least plan this out before running in there and—”

But he didn’t wait for a reply. Not really. He veered slightly off the path, silent and purposeful, already moving ahead toward the dark silhouette of the warehouse you were assigned.

Your jaw tightened. “Seriously?” you snapped under your breath, jogging to catch up. “Do not pull this shit, Toby.”

He didn’t look back. Just a brief flick of the head, a nod toward the structure. No words. No argument.

The warehouse loomed as you reached the clearing—old, corrugated metal walls rusted, shadows pooling in every corner. Faint light spilled from windows shattered long ago, revealing crates stacked in uneven towers. The smell of damp wood, oil, and smoke drifted out to meet you. Someone had set up shop here, smugglers taking advantage of the abandoned structure, thinking no one would come. Unluckily, it was stirring commotion in the Slenderwoods, so they had to be rid of.

You stopped just outside, lowering your weapons slightly. “Okay. So—”

Toby was already moving. Hatchets swinging low in his grip, steps silent as he circled the side entrance, scanning, analyzing, slipping into shadows like he owned the place.

Your irritation flared. “I said we should plan—”

No response.

You ground your teeth. He didn’t even acknowledge your words beyond a brief nod to indicate he’d seen you. The careful, silent Toby—the one who had stopped fighting with you, stopped talking to you altogether—was moving without you, ignoring every attempt at control, ignoring the chaotic rhythm you had always relied on when paired.

And somehow, that made you feel even tenser than a shouting match ever could.

The warehouse groaned under its own weight as you slipped inside, shadows thick and stale air heavy with oil and dust. Somewhere deeper in the building, muffled voices echoed—low, muttering, careless. The smugglers thought they were safe.

You crouched low, pressing into the dark, and flicked a look toward Toby, ready to signal how to split. But he didn’t wait. He was already moving, sliding between stacks of crates and disappearing from your sights.

Your jaw clenched. Fine. You’d adapt.

The first smuggler came into view around the corner, cigarette ember glowing as he leaned against a crate. You tightened your grip on your knife and slid closer, focusing on quieting your movements, heart syncing with your breath—

—but Toby slipped in from the opposite side faster than you could realize. His hatchet rose and fell before you could reach striking distance, and the man dropped in silence, cigarette rolling across the floor as blood sputtered from his throat. He couldn’t even scream.

You froze, teeth grinding.

Really?

Shoving down the irritation, you darted toward the next shadow—another guard, pacing near the stairwell. You timed it, waited for him to turn, and lunged—

—but Toby’s arm shot out, shoving you back against a crate. You caught yourself with a hand before you made noise, eyes blazing as you turned on him—only to see him already driving into the man’s spine. The smuggler collapsed at his feet, blood seeping into the concrete. Toby held his mouth to keep him quiet, but the wretched coughing still echoed slightly.

Your pulse spiked hot. “What the fuck—” you hissed low.

Toby only gave a short glance, then moved on. No words. You stalked after him, every nerve on fire. This wasn’t an accident. He was cutting you off, stealing every strike, sliding into your space just a second before you could land it.

Another smuggler. Another opportunity. You adjusted your grip, prepared to move.

And then your foot hooked on something.

You stumbled, catching yourself on a crate with a dull thud. Looking down, you saw it—Toby’s boot had slid out at the last second, tripping you. He didn’t even look back, just stepped in and slit the throat of the smuggler you’d been aiming for.

Hot rage seared through you.

This wasn’t clumsy overlap. This wasn’t the two of you failing to mesh. No. This was intentional. Toby wasn’t just ignoring you anymore—he was playing with you. Undermining you. Pushing you, tripping you, cutting you off, every move designed to make you burn hotter, to make you snap.

The warehouse was a graveyard of broken bodies by the time you and Toby pushed deeper inside. Crates stood like crooked tombstones, the smell of blood thick and metallic in the air. Your knife hand ached from clutching tightly for too long, but not from use—because every time you moved in, Toby was there first. Every time you breathed, he was already cutting the air ahead of you.

You were shaking with it now. Rage crawling under your skin like fire ants.

It wasn’t just that he was faster. It wasn’t just skill. No—he was watching you. Waiting for you. Moving not around you, but through you. Blocking, tripping, shoving. Every chance you reached for a kill, his hatchet stole it from your grip at the very last second. And he knew. God, he knew.

The bastard was doing it on purpose. You gritted your teeth so hard your jaw hurt. Your breath sawed in and out, shallow, furious, your chest tight with the effort of holding yourself back. If you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if words or a scream would come out.

Then you reached the last room.

The final smuggler was cornered near a busted loading dock door, fumbling with a pistol in shaking hands. His eyes went wide at the sight of you both, the whites bright in the dim light. Your grip tightened on your knife. Yours. This one is yours.

But Toby moved. Of course he did. He strode forward with that same unnerving calm, hatchet gleaming, as if this was just another tally mark to add to his collection. He didn’t even look at you as he raised his arm, claiming the kill before you could take a step.

Something inside you snapped. Before he could swing, you hurled your knife.

The blade hissed through the air, so close you heard the whisper of it graze Toby’s hoodie as it buried itself in the smuggler’s torso. The man crumpled with a strangled gasp, blood pooling as your knife jutted from his ribs. He was already dead by the time he hit the floor.

Silence rang out for a heartbeat. Then Toby turned. Slowly.

His head cocked, hair falling into his face, eyes burning from behind his goggles. His voice came low, rasping, edged like broken glass. “You almost h-hit me.”

“Good!” you exploded, stomping forward, your voice shaking as it poured out of you. “I should’ve aimed for you instead!”

His chest rose and fell, ragged. “What t-the fuck is yo-your problem?”

“You’re my problem!” you spat, closing the distance until you were nearly nose-to-nose. Your finger jabbed hard against his chest, smearing blood into the fabric. “You won’t stop. You cut me off, you trip me, you push me out of the way like I don’t matter!”

He shoved your hand away, heat sparking in his tone. “You don’t g-get it, do you? You ne-never fucking get it.”

“Oh, enlighten me then!” You threw your arms out, voice bouncing off the metal walls. “What exactly am I missing? That you’re such a big man because you can steal kills out from under me? That you think you’re the only one who knows what the hell they’re doing?”

Toby’s hands curled into fists, shoulders tense, body vibrating with contained rage. “You think t-this is about y-you?”

You laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “It’s always about me when you make it this way!”

His chest heaved as he stepped closer, hatchet still gripped in his hand though lowered, his voice raising to match yours now. “Maybe if y-you weren’t so busy proving yo-yourself every goddamn second, I-I wouldn’t have to clean u-up your me-messes!”

You shoved him hard, your palms slamming against his chest. He staggered a step but didn’t fall, coming back twice as hot, his own shove rattling your teeth as you stumbled back against a crate.

“Mess?!” Your voice cracked, raw with fury. “You’ve been sabotaging me since the second we stepped in here, and I’m the mess? You think I can’t see what you’re doing?”

Toby’s laughter broke then—sharp, ragged, almost unhinged, though there was no humor in it. He dragged a hand across his face, shaking his head. “You’re s-so goddamn blind.”

“Oh, screw you—” You lunged, shoving him again, and this time he grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward until your faces nearly collided. You could feel his breath hot against your cheek, could see every drop of blood spattered across his muzzle.

The room buzzed with it—your rage, his heat, the echo of all that pent-up chaos finally unleashed. The fight wasn’t about the smugglers, wasn’t about the mission. It was about the two of you, about everything that had burned too long without a spark to ignite it. And now, you were both on fire.

Toby’s grip on your wrist tightened, and before you could wrench free, you shoved him hard into another crate. The metal screeched as it shifted under his weight. He snarled and came back at you, tackling you full-force. You both went down hard, the concrete jarring every bone in your body. His hatchet skittered away with a clatter, forgotten in the heat of the struggle. You clawed at his hoodie, slamming your knee up to catch his ribs, and he grunted, twisting to roll you beneath him.

“Why now?!” you shouted, your voice tearing raw through your throat as you shoved at him. “Why the fuck this week, Toby?!”

His laugh came cracked, bitter, his breath hot against your face as he pressed you down. “Why do y-you care? You liked it better w-when I shut the hell u-up, right?!”

You twisted, bucking your hips, flipping the both of you onto your sides, rolling across the dirt-stained floor. Broken glass scraped your palm, but you didn’t let go. “You didn’t speak to me for days—nothing! Then suddenly you just have to come with me? Just so you can trip me and screw me over?”

He gritted his teeth, voice rough, guttural. “M-Maybe I wanted t-to see how you’d h-handle it. Maybe I w-wa-wanted to see you squirm for once.”

Rage spiked through you, sharp and white-hot. You slammed your elbow into his chest, forcing him onto his back. He gasped, coughing, but his hands were still at your arms, nails biting.

“Is this payback?” you snarled, your breath coming ragged. “For me choking you out? You sick little shit—you couldn’t just say something, you had to do this? Are you fucking five years old?”

He bucked up, trying to roll you again, and the two of you smashed into a half-rotted crate, splinters bursting. The smell of mold and dust coated your tongue, acrid and foul. You shoved harder, knee digging into his ribs until finally—you broke free of his grip and pinned him flat against the concrete. You straddled his waist, your hands pressed hard against his shoulders, forcing him down. Both of you were panting, sweat and blood smeared across your skin, breaths shallow with fury.

And then—something shifted.

Toby’s head tilted back, baring the flushed stretch of his throat. His pulse throbbed there, fast and strong. And he was looking right at you, eyes wide and unblinking behind the streaks of dirt and blood.

Not fighting. Not mocking. Just… giving. Exposing his throat, silent, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to finish what you’d started last week.

You froze. The world narrowed to the hollow of his throat, to the heat rolling off his body beneath you, to the fact that he wasn’t pushing you away. He was waiting.

Your heart lurched, fury colliding with confusion. You ripped your hands off him and stumbled up, standing over him. “What the fuck are you doing?” you demanded, voice sharp, trembling.

Toby stayed on the floor, chest rising and falling, throat still exposed. Slowly, his familiar grin returned—thin, crooked, unsettling. But he didn’t answer. He just chuckled under his breath. It wasn’t steady. It cracked halfway out, like he couldn’t quite hold it together.

“Go on,” he rasped, voice roughened by the fight—and maybe something else. “Do it a-again. Thought y-you liked shutting m-me up.”

Your stomach flipped. Heat curled low in your spine, but rage fought its way back to the surface, blinding the confusion you felt. “You’ve been fucking with me all night,” you hissed. “Cutting me off, tripping me, stealing every kill. And this—” your eyes hovered over his throat, his pulse hammering beneath skin still faintly stained with last week’s bruises “—this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

His grin faltered, but his eyes never left yours. Nervous. Hungry.

You almost laughed, disbelief bubbling sharp in your chest. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You’ve been trying to piss me off so I’d choke you again?”

The silence was answer enough. His jaw worked, his breath shallow, silently chasing the contact he wasn’t brave enough to ask for.

Something ugly and electric knotted in your chest.

“You’re fucking sick,” you spat, standing to put space between you. “All this—what—just to get your little fix? You’re pathetic.”

He sat up slowly, tearing at the strap of his muzzle and shoving the piece off his face—the metal clattering against the cold floor, and finally let out a low laugh—broken, ragged. “Maybe. But you w-were gonna do it, weren’t y-you?”

You turned away, disgust coiling hot in your chest, but Toby’s voice followed—low and sharp, like a knife slipped between ribs. “Guess I w-was right. You only e-e-ever look good wh-when you’re on top o-of me.”

That was it.

You spun, fury surging bright and blinding, and launched yourself at him. You couldn’t care anymore if this was some perverted goade, he would get what he asked for now. He hit the floor hard, head bouncing off concrete with a dull thump, and before he could so much as blink, your hand was clamped around his throat.

“Oh, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you snarled, leaning close, your words dripping venom. There wasn’t a muzzle to block you anymore, so your noses were practically inches from each other. “Poor little Toby, can’t get off unless he’s gasping like a fish. Pathetic.”

His grin widened even as your grip tightened, lips split and cracking, teeth flashing. His laugh jerked and stuttered, turning to wheezes under your palm, but he didn’t fight you off. Not this time. Instead, his hands slid down, fumbling and quick, finding your thighs where you straddled his abdomen. He gripped tight, fingers digging into your pants hard enough to bruise, like he was holding onto an anchor while you cut the air out of him.

You squeezed harder, your mockery coming in ragged bursts. “What, you like this? Huh? You want everyone to see those bruises again—so they’ll know exactly what I did to you?”

His laugh dissolved into a groan, his eyes glassy, unfocused, lips parted on shallow, rattling gasps. And then—his hips jerked up against you. Once. Twice. You lurched forward with the movement, your full weight pressing down onto his throat as his body bucked beneath yours, desperate, uncontrolled. Your palm bore down harder, your thighs pinning him in place, and his grip on you tightened until it hurt.

It was obscene. Violent. Maddening.

Your grip faltered when his hands crept higher on your thighs, rough palms sliding toward dangerous ground. You ripped your hand from his throat, throwing your weight back to keep yourself steady before you toppled forward.

The second you let go, Toby’s laugh cracked open, wild and desperate, spilling into something frantic. He shot upright against your weight, grabbing for your wrists, his voice ragged with need.

“No—don’t fu-fucking s-s-stop—” His words broke into a choked rasp as his chest heaved. “Do i-it again—p-pl-please—”

You shoved him down hard, eyes blazing. “You’re insane—!”

“Yeah?” he spat, his voice catching, body twisting under yours. “Then fucking b-be insane with me, h-huh? Don’t just s-sit there acting li-like you don’t get o-off on t-this shit too!”

Your rage spiked, white-hot. “Are you serious right now? I nearly killed you last time, and this is what you want?”

“Yes!” His shout tore from his throat, cracking halfway through, echoing off the warehouse walls. “Yes, fuck—goddamn i-it, you don’t g-get it—I need it!”

The words hit like a brick to the chest, and you froze just long enough for him to ramble on, his voice rising, frantic, like the dam had burst and he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He was panting for God’s sake.

“E-Ever since that night—when you h-had your hands on me—” His eyes flashed wild, glassy with something more than anger. “I-I couldn’t fucking s-stop thinking about it. I’d lay th-there staring at t-the bruises—every g-go-goddamn night—touching mm-myself to the thought of you choking me out, and it w-was the only thing that worked—”

You reeled back, disgust curling sharp in your gut. “You’re disgusting.”

He grinned—broken, shameful, desperate. “Yeah. Y-Yeah, I know. But when t-they faded—when the bruises were gone—” His voice cracked again, lower now, almost pleading. “I couldn’t finish an-anymore. Nothing worked. I’ve been going o-out of my fucking m-mi-mind—”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. “So you pulled this stunt tonight? Just to piss me off enough to do it again?”

“Yes! Jesus fuck! Yes!” he barked, eyes blazing with a feverish light. “I had to! I don’t c-care if you hate m-me, I don’t care if you th-think I’m pathetic, I just—fuck—” His hands clawed at his own throat now, red scratches blooming under his nails. “I need y-your hands here. No o-one else’s. Yours.”

You stared down at him, chest heaving, every nerve screaming between fury, disbelief, and something darker curling beneath. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve been choking your dick every night to the thought of me almost killing you?”

His grin faltered, teeth bared like he was half-laughing, half-breaking apart. “I wanted i-it. I still want it. I-I need you to finish me off, or I’m go-gonna lose my fucking mind.”

The words hung between you—hot, filthy, and raw. And for the first time since you’d known him, Toby wasn’t hiding behind his immaturity or his smirk. He was laid bare, trembling under you, begging with every cracked word.

“I hate you, Toby.” Your breath hissed out between your teeth, sharp and electric, as you slammed your hand back around his throat. His body jolted like you’d lit a match to it.

Toby’s moan tore out of him, shameless and guttural, the sound vibrating against your palm. His eyes rolled halfway back, lids fluttering, and he arched up into your grip like a starving man finally fed. “Fuck—yes—” His voice rasped high and broken, and the sheer relief in it made your stomach twist. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—”

You leaned down, sneering inches from his flushed face. “Look at you. Pathetic little freak. Can’t even look at me without getting hard.”

His laugh cracked, feral, desperate, his mouth curling wide even as his breath stuttered in ragged gasps under your pressure. He coughed once, then sneered closer into your grip, gritting his teeth. “Say it a-again—fuck—say it—”

“Pathetic,” you hissed, tightening your grip, your thumb pressing against the thick veins running up his throat. “Sick little bitch.”

His hips bucked up violently, knocking you forward again, and this time he didn’t hold back. His hands shot past your thighs, fumbling frantically at his belt behind you. The buckle clattered against the concrete, his jeans yanked open with a clumsy desperation that made your blood thrum. You couldn’t see, but you could hear the moment Toby’s hand shot into his boxers and began jerking his cock wildly, moaning through labored chokes.

“Jesus Christ,” you spat, half a laugh, half a curse. “You’re actually jerking yourself while I choke you?”

“Not—j-jerking,” he wheezed, his grin splitting wider even as his face flushed red under your grip. “Just—getting ready—” His laugh broke into a cough, then another moan. “Fuck—I don’t care i-if you hate me, just k-keep squeezing—”

Your stomach knotted, fury clashing with something darker as you pressed down harder, feeling the frantic pulse hammer beneath your hand. You should have pulled away. Should’ve shoved him off and ended this disgusting display. But the way his voice cracked when you snapped at him, the way his body writhed beneath yours, hands trembling as he shoved his jeans lower—it sparked something hot and unsettling in your chest.

“I can’t stand you,” you breathed, voice low, sharp, and shaking with something you didn’t want to name. “You’re nothing without me.”

His moan bled into a laugh, high and frantic. “I k-know. I fucking know. That’s w-why I need you.” And god help you—your lips curled, the power surging through you like fire. You were enjoying it, too.

Your palm pressed harder against his throat, pinning him flat, your thighs tight against his ribs. Toby’s grin broke into something wrecked, lips trembling as his groans spilled shamelessly between shallow gasps.

“That’s it,” you hissed, leaning close, breath hot against his ear. “Choke on it. That’s all you’re good for.”

His hips jerked up violently, jeans shoved halfway down his thighs now, his cock straining free into the cool air. His hand wrapped tight around the base, already slick, already trembling. You could hear the sound of skin-on-skin, his fist moving insanely fast and brutal.

“F-Fuck—yes—” he choked, voice torn to ribbons under your grip. “Keep talking—don’t s-stop—please—”

You sneered, pressing your weight down harder, and he let out a strangled cry that almost tipped into a sob. “Look at yourself,” you spat, mocking, eyes blazing as you looked back to see him rut up into his own fist like a man possessed. “Wheezing like a dying dog. You’re disgusting.”

“Uh—hnn—f-fuck—yeah,” he rasped, grin stretching bloody and wild. “Say it a-again—call me that—”

“Disgusting. Pathetic. Useless little freak.”

His eyes rolled, breath rattling, hips pumping faster. You heard his boots scuff and slip on the ground below, kicking dust with every jerk of his body. His free hand clawed at your thigh, nails biting hard into your skin, grounding himself in your weight, in your hold on his throat.

“Harder,” he begged, voice splintering, a desperate whine breaking loose. “Please—please, don’t let g-go—don’t stop—fuck, I’m so c-close—”

And God help you—you squeezed tighter. You felt the pulse stuttering beneath your palm, his throat straining, his moans breaking into guttural wheezes as his body arched up beneath yours.

“You need me for this,” you hissed, lips curling in something that was no longer just anger. “You can’t even come without me choking the life out of you. Need me to make your little dick come.”

His hand blurred on his cock, hips bucking helplessly now, eyes glassy and unfocused as drool slicked the corner of his mouth. “Y-yesmmn—fuck, yehmmn—need you—need your hand—don’t let go—hnn—hah—”

And then he broke.

His whole body jolted beneath you, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as his hips bucked up hard. Hot release spilled across his abdomen and into his fist as he writhed, every vein straining under your hand while you squeezed him through it. His cock twitched violently in his grasp, his moans pitching higher, wetter, delirious. “Fuckfuckfuck—yes—” he gasped, trembling, his grip on your thigh bruising as he rode the high, every thrust messy, erratic, desperate.

You held firm until he sagged under you, chest heaving, throat raw and flushed purple where your hand pressed. Only then did you release him, wiping your palm against your jeans with a sharp sneer. “Fucking hell,” you muttered again, though your heart was hammering just as hard as his.

Toby lay there, grinning up at you with glassy, wrecked eyes, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He coughed once, rough and raw, then laughed—a cracked, unhinged sound. “Worth it.”

The warehouse smelled like iron and smoke, the floor sticky with blood, bodies slumped where they fell scattered throughout the halls. Normally you’d have cleaned—burned the place down or dragged the corpses to the woods. That was protocol.

But not tonight.

You shoved yourself off Toby’s chest, breath ragged, disgust curling sharp and hot in your gut. You wiped your palm against your pants until the skin burned, as if you could scrub off the memory of his throat thrumming beneath your grip, the moans spilling out of him, the mess he made of himself under you.

“Fuck,” you spat, turning on your heel. “Fuck this.”

Toby scrambled upright behind you, fumbling with his belt buckle, tugging his jeans back up with clumsy, shaking hands. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hoodie damp with it too.

“W-Wait—hey—” he stammered, voice still rough, strained. He grabbed his hatchet and muzzle from the floor and scurried after you, footsteps uneven on the concrete. “Don’t—don’t make i-it a thing, okay? Just—forget it h-ha-happened.”

“Forget it?” you snapped, not slowing. “You’re sick, Toby.”

He laughed nervously, breath catching on the sound. “Yeah, well—you al-already knew that.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your stomach twisted too tight, too hot, your chest buzzing with something you didn’t want to settle on. You shoved through the broken door, the night air slapping cold against your damp skin, and started the trek back to the mansion. Behind you, Toby’s boots scuffed the dirt, never too far, dogging your steps like a shadow.

“C’mon,” he tried again, voice softer this time, more nervous. “Don’t g-go all weird on m-me. It doesn’t have to mean an-anything.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “Shut up.”

Silence stretched between you after that, broken only by the crunch of leaves, the distant cry of some night creature in the woods. You didn’t look back, not once. But no matter how far you tried to walk ahead, he stayed just behind you—close enough to feel his presence crawling against your skin. Your chest heaved, every breath tight. Anger, shame, disgust—all of it roiled inside you, twisting lower until your stomach was burning, your thighs aching where his hands had dug into you.

Warm. You felt too warm. And you hated yourself for it.

By the time the mansion lights came into view through the trees, your jaw ached from clenching it so hard. You’d marched fast, hard, like if you moved quick enough, you could outrun the heat coiling in your gut, the way your pulse jumped at the memory of Toby’s voice breaking under your hand, at his eyes watering so easily.

But when you reached the porch steps, he was still there. Still trailing you. And no matter how you tried to bury it—your body still hummed with the echo of his moans.

“J-Just don’t say anything to t-them—”

“Shut up, Toby.”

The mansion’s door creaked open, hinges groaning into the quiet of the hour. You stepped in first, blood dried on your clothes, boots heavy with dust. The air inside smelled faintly of woodsmoke and old leather, warmth clinging to the walls after the chill of the forest outside.

Masky looked up from the couch where he sat sipping from a steaming mug. Hoodie was leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, while Kate perched on the armrest, picking at her fingers.

Three sets of eyes landed on you and Toby at once.

You kept yours on the floor, brushing past with a muttered, “It’s done.” Your voice was flat, clipped, nothing like the normal back-and-forth bickering they were used to hearing spill through the door after missions. Toby hovered behind you, shifting from foot to foot. His hatchet dangled loose at his side, his hoodie wrinkled, belt crooked like he’d thrown it back together in a rush. His mouth opened once, twice, but no words came.

Masky’s eyes narrowed. Hoodie straightened. Kate blew a huff of air through her nose, brows furrowing as her gaze bounced between you both. You didn’t wait for questions. You strode past them, your chest tight, your pulse hammering, Toby’s nervous fidgeting prickling against the back of your skull like static. Your boots echoed faint up the stairs, and when you reached your room, you shut the door hard enough to rattle the frame.

Finally—silence.

You pressed your back against the wood, chest rising and falling, staring blankly into the shadows of your room. Your knees felt weak, like the fight had dragged out hours longer than it really had.

“What the fuck,” you whispered into the stillness. Your mind replayed it whether you wanted it to or not: his face slack with need, his body bucking beneath you, his voice breaking when you called him pathetic. The sound of him moaning your name. The way he’d begged you not to let go.

Your pulse jumped hard, traitorous, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as though that could cage it. How? How had this boy—the one who needled you, cursed you, fought you at every corner—made your stomach twist and your core ache with just his wrecked voice and shameless grin?

You growled under your breath, shoving off the door, moving on autopilot. Stripping out of bloodied clothes. Cleaning the grime from your skin in the dim light of the bathroom mirror. Your reflection looked wrong—flushed, unsettled, eyes too wide.

You tried to ignore it.

Back in your room, you tugged a shirt over your head and crawled beneath the covers, pulling them tight around yourself. The sheets were cool against your skin, the house humming faint and low in the background. You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to think of anything else.

But your mind betrayed you.

Every blink brought back Toby—the heat of him, the frantic way he’d clawed at your thighs, the rasp of his moans under your palm. You could almost feel his throat again, the thrum of his pulse weakening against your grip, the desperate way he’d pushed into your hand as if he couldn’t live without it. The way he insisted only you could do this for him—only you.

Your breath caught. Your thighs pressed together beneath the sheets. “Goddamn it,” you muttered, low, ashamed.

But your hands moved anyway. Sliding down, curling over your stomach, lower, until your fingers pressed against the ache that had been building since you walked away from him on that filthy warehouse floor.

Toby’s voice played in your head, raw and broken—Harder. Please. Don’t stop.

The sheets were stifling, heat curling in every inch of your body, but you burrowed deeper under them anyway, cocooning yourself as if that could keep the shame in. Your breath was uneven, pulse climbing higher the longer you tried to resist. Your hand slipped lower, into the waistband of your shorts, finding the slick heat between your thighs. You were already wet, embarrassingly so, and the realization made your stomach flip.

“Fuck…” you hissed under your breath.

But your fingers moved anyway. Slow at first, just circling, teasing, trying to convince yourself you weren’t really doing this. Except the moment you closed your eyes, you saw him again—Toby’s head tilted back, throat bare to you, his lips parted in a desperate grin as you squeezed down harder.

The memory made your hips twitch, your hand quicken. Your breathing grew rougher, sharper, filling the stillness of your room. The friction wasn’t enough—you needed more. You slid two fingers against your entrance, pressing inside and gasping at the sudden stretch, your body clenching tight.

And your mind betrayed you again.

You imagined it was his hands, not yours—rough, calloused palms pushing inside, desperate and greedy. You imagined the way he’d been bucking against you, hips jerking, like he was trying to fuck the air just to get relief. What if you had fucked him then? Would it have been as fast and desperate as his fist was?

A whimper slipped out of you before you could stop it. Your free hand clutched the sheets by your head, knuckles whitening as your pace picked up. Each press, each thrust of your fingers had your body curling tighter, chasing something you didn’t want to admit you wanted. Your thighs trembled. Sweat dampened your temples.

And then Toby’s voice flooded your skull, unbidden: Harder. Please. Don’t stop. I need you.

Your body jerked. A moan tore from your throat. You slammed your fingers deeper, grinding your palm against your clit until the ache sharpened into something blinding. Your orgasm ripped through you like fire, your body arching off the bed, breath caught, the sound of his pleading still ringing in your ears.

You stayed there, quivering, your hand still buried between your thighs as the aftershocks trembled through you. The sheets were tangled, your skin slick with sweat, your chest heaving. And when your mind finally cleared, disgust hit you like a wave.

You ripped your hand away, burying your face into the pillow, your body still thrumming with unwanted pleasure.

“What the fuck is wrong with me,” you whispered to the dark, voice breaking. But no matter how tightly you curled into yourself, no matter how hard you tried to will it away, the memory of his moans and the feel of his throat under your palm stayed burned into you.

“I hate that boy.”

── .✦

The mansion was never quiet, not really. Floorboards creaked, the woods whispered, doors groaned when opened. But between you and Toby? Silence had become the loudest thing of all.

You ignored him. Flat-out, stone-faced ignored him.

When he leaned against the doorway of the training room, flicking his pocket knife open and shut, waiting for you to snap? You kept punching the heavy weight bag, not giving him so much as a glance.

When he dropped some smartass remark during meals, fishing for the rise he always used to get? You chewed slowly, eyes fixed on your plate, not even flinching.

When he “accidentally” bumped your shoulder in the hall? You walked on, didn’t miss a beat.

It drove him mad—you could see it in the twitch of his jaw, the way his tics flared sharper, faster when you didn’t bite back. But it drove you mad too, in a way you didn’t want to admit.

Because the bruises were back. 

Dark, blooming fingerprints circling his throat like a necklace only you could’ve left. They were darker than last time, more intense. They peeked from under his collar when he tilted his head back, caught the light when he twisted just so. And every time you saw them, your stomach clenched.

You couldn’t help imagining him again, in that messy sprawl on the warehouse floor—eyes glazed, lips split, gasping for air under your hand. The memory tangled with the fact you knew he was jerking off to it every night, chasing that high you’d given him like some addict.

And then came the shame.

Shame because you’d done the same. Shame because your own fingers had dug into yourself with his voice in your ears, his body pressed against yours in your mind. Shame because it made you warm now, just thinking about it in broad daylight. You hated yourself for it.

The others noticed.

Masky groaned and rolled his eyes whenever the silence stretched too long in the room, muttering about “finally shutting the both of you up.” Hoodie, quiet as ever, glanced between you two with something unreadable in his gaze, like he was tracking pieces to a puzzle he didn’t want to put together. And Kate? She smirked. She didn’t say anything—yet—but her eyes lit up with amusement every time Toby walked in, bruises stark and ugly, your gaze flickering before you could stop it.

The mansion wasn’t built for subtlety. Everyone could feel the tension brewing.

And Toby? Toby basked in it. Even when you ignored him, even when your face burned with shame, you could see it in the edge of his grin, in the way he let his collar hang just a little lower. He liked that you saw the bruises. He wanted you thinking about them. Thinking about him.

── .✦

The porch was cold, even with the smoke curling warm in your lungs. You leaned against the railing, staring into the stretch of black trees. The woods whispered with wind and crickets, an endless, empty hum that should’ve eased your head but didn’t.

You were halfway through your cigarette when the door creaked behind you. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. His uneven footsteps, the scrape of his hoodie against the doorframe—Toby.

You stiffened immediately, flicking ash into the night, already crushing the half-finished cigarette against the rail. The second he stepped outside, you pushed off the porch, muttering, “Nope.” But before you could make it to the door, his hand shot out and grabbed your arm.

You spun on instinct, your fist colliding with his chest, hard enough that it would’ve left anyone else wincing. He didn’t even flinch. His head just tilted, eyes flicking from your hand to your face.

“You probably liked that too, didn’t you?” you spat, ripping your arm from his grip. “Bet you’ll jerk off to that later too.”

For a moment, the corner of his mouth curled up into a grin like he was about to shoot something smart back. But then it faltered. He swallowed, shifting his weight. “You can’t k-keep being mad at m-me,” he said, quieter than you expected.

You barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Oh, that’s rich. What’s this—gaslighting me now? Pretending I imagined all your bullshit? You baited me into it, Toby. You made me—”

“I’m not saying th-that.” His voice cut through, sharper this time. He stepped closer, shoulders tense, hands fidgeting. “I’m saying… you d-did it too. You wanted it. D-Don’t dump all the blame o-on me like I’m the only fucked up o-o-one here.”

You blinked at him, the words burning hotter than the smoke simmering in your lungs. The laugh that came out of you was dry, ugly. “Wow. That’s your angle? Turn it around on me so you don’t feel like a creep?”

He shook his head quickly, stammering, “No. That’s not—fuck—” He scrubbed a hand through his messy curls, his tics pulling his shoulders tight. Then his voice dropped, raw and stripped. “I just… I hate i-it when you’re quiet.”

That stopped you.

His eyes flicked up to yours, no grin this time, no mask. Just something bare. “I can handle y-you being pissed at me. You c-can scream, throw punches, call me every name in the book—I don-don’t care. I’ll give it right back. That’s what we do.” He took a step closer, the porch creaking under his boots. “But this? Y-You ignoring me? Acting like I don’t exist? That’s wo-worse than any fight we’ve ever h-had.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse suddenly pounding in your ears.

“You always bounce b-back,” he went on, voice rough with an edge of desperation. “No matter h-how ugly it gets, you always come back a-at me w-with something. And now you’re just—gone. Silent. And it fe-feels like I’m fucking… nothing t-to you. And I can’t stand that.”

The words hung between you, heavy as the smoke drifting in the night air. You clenched your fists, struggling to breathe steady. Your chest felt too tight. His words were still in your ears, rattling around, refusing to leave. You dragged a hand through your hair, then crossed your arms hard, locking yourself in. Your gaze flicked down—just for a heartbeat—to his throat, where the bruises were stark against pale skin, then to his hands fidgeting at his sides. A sigh slipped out before you could swallow it down.

“God, you’re annoying,” you bit out, venom dripping. “You stand here begging for scraps of my attention like some whipped fucking dog.”

Toby’s lips twitched, but he didn’t fight back. He just nodded once, sharp, almost eager. “Y-Yeah. I am.”

You blinked at him, taken aback. Then the anger surged hotter. Even still, even as you tried to push him away, he was still enjoying it.

“You don’t even try to deny it? That’s how low you are? That’s how little self-respect you have?”

“Mmhm.” Another nod. His boots creaked closer against the porch boards.

Your arms tightened across your chest. “You’re disgusting, Toby. You make me sick.”

“Yeah.” Another step closer. His grin was small now, faint, but his eyes were locked on you like he was drinking it all in. Your nails bit crescents into your arms. You should’ve walked away—you knew you should’ve walked away—but the way he was letting you tear into him only made your pulse race faster.

“Say it,” you snapped, stepping forward yourself. “Say you’re a fucking disgusting waste of space.”

“I’m di-disgusting,” he echoed, nodding. “Waste of space. All o-of it. Go on.” He was right there now, only inches away, and still coming closer.

“You’re nothing,” you spat, your voice trembling with how hard you forced the words out. “I hate you.”

He nodded again, eyes bright, voice low. “Then hate me.”

And then he leaned forward. Not quick, not sharp—slow, steady, like he was giving you all the time in the world to stop him. His breath brushed your lips, his bruised throat bare and tempting, his whole body a dare.

Something snapped in you. Your hand shot up and clamped over his mouth. Hard.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you growled, glaring into his eyes.

For a heartbeat, the night was silent, only your ragged breathing between you. His lips moved against your palm, hot breath searing your skin, but he didn’t try to pull away. He just looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, as if you’d given him exactly what he wanted.

Then his arms came up.

Before you could react, he wrapped them around you, hauling you flush against him. Your body collided with his, hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs, and that’s when you felt it—his bulge thick and insistent against your hip.

Your heart jumped. You recoiled, but he only crushed you tighter, his muffled voice spilling hot against your palm. “Can’t—fuck—can’t help i-it,” he mumbled under your hand, words slurring but frantic. His eyes were wild, pleading and burning all at once. “You don’t understand how good i-it sounds. The way you talk to me—how mean you a-are—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, pressing harder against his mouth, like you could shove the words back down his throat. And then—warm, wet, obscene—his tongue dragged across your palm. You jerked your hand back instantly, grimacing. “Motherfucker—”

The slap cracked sharp across his face before you even thought about it, your palm stinging from the impact. He didn’t even blink, face jerking to the side for only a moment. His laugh tore out, jagged and breathless, like it was the best gift you’d ever given him. “More,” he goaded, his voice breaking with a tic as his grin split wide. “C’mon—hit me again—”

Something boiled inside you. Rage. Heat. Hunger. You couldn’t name it, couldn’t separate it. You fisted his collar instead, yanking him down hard enough his head snapped forward. Your lips crashed into his in a violent, messy collision—more teeth than anything else, half-kiss, half-bite.

He made a noise deep in his chest, caught between a moan and a growl, and bit back. Your teeth scraped his lip, tearing it raw, copper flooding between your tongues as you devoured each other like a fight you couldn’t win. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. It was violent, greedy, your mouths clashing, biting, swallowing each other’s breath until you were dizzy. His hands gripped your waist, bruising, desperate, dragging you closer still.

The porch boards creaked under your stumbling steps as you shoved him back, and he only laughed against your mouth, teeth clacking yours, his breath ragged and burning hot as he kissed you like you were both still trying to draw blood.

Your teeth clashed again, the taste of copper thick on your tongue, and Toby groaned like it was ecstasy. His hands roamed rough, not searching but taking—fingers digging into your hips hard enough you swore he’d leave bruises through your clothes. You shoved at his chest, trying to push him back, but he turned you violently, pinning you against the porch railing. The wood bit into your spine. His mouth crashed against yours, sloppy and biting, like he was trying to consume you whole.

“Fucking—” you gasped between kisses, your nails clawing into his shoulders. “I hate you.”

“F-Fuck yeah you do,” he growled, teeth dragging along your jaw before sinking in just hard enough to sting. His hips ground forward, rough, shameless. His bulge pressed against your hip so hard you could feel every inch. “Show me just h-how much, baby.”

Your laugh broke into a moan, guttural and unwilling, as he rocked against you. That only pissed you off more. You tangled a hand in his curls and yanked his head back hard, exposing his throat. “Pathetic little pervert,” you spat, glaring at the bruises you’d already put there. Your free hand wrapped around his throat again, squeezing until his breath stuttered, and his eyes rolled for just a second.

He moaned just as loud and whiny as he had the other night. The sound made heat coil tight in your stomach. You pressed harder, relishing the way his pulse hammered under your fingers. He choked out a laugh, lips swollen and red, trying to lunge forward again—but you held him just out of reach.

“Say it,” you hissed. “Say you’re nothing. Say you’re mine to break.”

His grin split wide, voice raw and ragged as he rasped, “I’m nothing. I’m—fuck—I’m y-yours to break.”

That was all it took for you to slam your mouth back onto his, devouring him. Your bodies ground together in a messy, furious rhythm, every movement as much a fight as it was a touch.

Toby’s hand slid down, gripping the back of your thigh, hauling your leg up around his hip. You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily, bucking into you. Your nails raked down his chest, and he shuddered, growling against your lips. He bit at your bottom one hard enough to make you taste blood again.

The porch creaked, your breath echoed, and for a moment, the whole world was just this: violent mouths, grasping hands, and the line between hate and want blurring until there was no difference. You tried to shove him off, but he anchored himself against you with his hands—one gripping your waist, the other sliding lower, hot and slick, brushing over the waistband of your shorts.

You stiffened immediately, pressing back, but he didn’t stop. He shoved his hand down past the hem, his warm palm pressing flat against your fluttering cunt. You hissed, digging your nails into his shoulders. The pad of his thumb traced along your slick folds, the subtle heat radiating from your body under his touch making him groan low and uneven.

“Right—so defensive, but you’re soaked—” he panted against your jaw, dragging his fingers through your slick and probing against your entrance. You wanted to curse him, but your hips were too busy chasing after his hand, mind too muddled with want. “Y-You’re not very good a-at playing pretend.”

And then—careful, deliberate—he slipped a finger inside. The movement was slow at first, testing, curling just enough to brush the spot that made you gasp, hips bucking despite your effort to stay rigid. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as your hands clamped over his shoulders, nails digging in hard, and yet your stomach tensed, core aching in unwanted, feral need.

“Goddamn it, Toby—get the fuck—” you tried to snap, but the words came out a whimper as his fingers moved in perfect rhythm with the heat coiling between your legs.

“Can’t stop,” he rasped, teeth grazing your jaw. “Your hands—your words—f-fucking kill me. I can’t help it.”

You clawed at him, nails digging into skin. He moved another finger in, slick and warm, curling expertly, pressing, rubbing, and suddenly the fire coiling low in your belly blazed out. You arched up, fighting, hissing at him through your teeth, but the sound only seemed to make him smirk against your jaw.

“You piss me off,” you spat, pressing back harder, rocking your hips against his hand in a mix of resistance and desperate need. Every nerve in your body screamed, every pulse of blood seemed to thrum straight down into the ache he was cultivating with each careful, greedy curl of his thick fingers. “You’re so fucking gross.”

“Yeah,” he moaned, the word rattling through him. “Gonna make you cum. I h-have to. Ne-Need to.” The sound—raw, desperate, unashamed—made arousal coil tighter in your belly. Your free hand tangled in his hair, yanking his face to yours again. Teeth clashed, lips smacked, and he grunted as you bit him, tasting yourself on him, smelling the deep earthy tones of him.

He bucked into you, nails digging into your hip, sliding his fingers faster, curling them deep, teasing you, testing you, making you gasp and growl your frustration into the night air. You tried to glare, tried to snap insults, but your body betrayed you, trembling, hips pressing against him, sliding back onto his fingers despite the growl of anger and disgust still catching in your throat.

“Told you,” he rasped, voice ragged, “I l-like it better when you’re pissy.”

You hit him on the chest, hard enough to make him grunt, and he chuckled, throat choked and vibrating under your hand. The contrast—his rough, hungry laugh and the slick heat of him inside you—sent fire lashing in your veins, spreading down and low, making your nails dig deeper, your chest rise faster, your body tremble like you were breaking apart. You tried to pull away, tried to scream insults, tried to shove him off, but every movement only made him grip harder, curling fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he held you flush against him.

“Fuck—Toby…” you gasped, teeth clenching, nails digging into the fabric of his hoodie as heat roared through your body. His hand moved faster, rolling you expertly against him, pressing and curling until every nerve in your belly lit up. You clenched, tight, shivering, and suddenly the wave hit—sharp, overwhelming, and completely consuming. Your body quaked as your orgasm ripped through you, muffled gasps caught in your throat. Toby didn’t falter; instead, he held you steady, rolling you just enough to ride it out, keeping you flush against him, your arousal spilling all over his palm.

Your chest heaved, and you grabbed his jaw with both hands, pulling him down roughly into a kiss that was desperate and messy. His mouth moved against yours, hot and slick, teeth nipping as tongues tangled, groans muffled and raw. And then, just slightly, the feral edge simmered into something slower, almost tired—your bodies still flush, hearts hammering, lips pressed together as you clung to him, fingers gripping his shoulders and chest. Your legs threaded around him, your nails dragging along his back, and you shivered against the warmth of him, still trembling from release and the cold air outside.

Finally, he pulled his fingers out, slick and glistening, and tilted his head back just slightly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark in the dim porch light, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking them clean with a low hum that made your heart stutter.

“Fuck,” you panted.

You don’t let him think. You take his wrist like it’s a leash and pull, hard, the way you used to when dragging him out of some stupid accident—only this time your grip is charged, hungry. Toby stumbles after you, mouth parted, eyes bright and unsteady, like he’s both surprised and exactly where he wants to be. He tries to say something—stammer a protest, some jagged joke—but you yank him faster and his words die in the cut of your stride. You pull him through the mansion’s doors and into the warmth of the house, dragging him up the stairs like a toy.

Upstairs creaks under your boots; the house is quiet but for the ragged sound of his breathing close behind. When you shove the door to your room shut, it slams. The sound is satisfying, final. You press back against it, feel the cheap paint bite into your back through your clothes, and the world narrows until it’s only you and him and the hungry strain between your bodies pressed tight.

He drops to his knees without being told. You haven’t even made a sound and he’s already obeying—fast, focused, hands fumbling as he works the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down slow, reverent, as though he’s unwrapping something sacred and volatile. The fabric slips over your hips and slides to your knees, and you can feel the cool air lick at your skin. Toby’s head dips, lips brushing the inside of your thigh first like it’s a courtesy, then moving with increasing boldness.

You’re in control. You know it. You feel it in the slick press of your bodies, the steady drum of your pulse at the back of your throat. You lean forward, hands braced on his shoulders, and you start to talk down to him.

“Look at you,” you say, each word deliberate. You’re quieter now inside, trying your best not to disturb Masky and Hoodie only a few doors down. “On your knees for me. So ready.” Your fingers rake through his hair, rough enough that he gasps, chin lifting to give you access. He nods, desperate and grateful, eyes glossy. The motion is small, but it’s permission, and it makes something molten shift deeper inside you.

Toby’s face is close, warmth and breath and that wild laugh caught somewhere between fear and worship. He’s trembling—hands shaking as they find your hips, thumbs stroking, mapping, sliding up and under your shirt. He lifts his mouth and your name slips off his lips like a prayer. The sound is intoxicating. He’s pathetic on purpose: he knows that’s exactly what you want to see, and he gives it fully.

“You like the way you look when you beg?” you murmur, leaning down to press your forehead to his. “Like how it feels?.”

He swallows. His voice is a thin thing when it comes. “I—please. I like—hnngh, I like w-when you—” He breaks, breath hitching. “I like when you make me—when y-you choke me—when you sa-say those things.” His fingers curl into your hips like anchors, digging into your flesh.

You grin, and it’s all teeth. You like that he admits it. You like that he’s helpless to stop himself from wanting more, and you take your time making that want work for you. Hell, he couldn’t even cum without your help a week ago. One hand slides down his scalp, tilting his head, the other ghosts lower until the pad of your thumb brushes the tint in his jeans. He pants, a sharp, eager noise, and when you press that thumb—just a tease—he moans and jerks, hips lifting on their own.

“Good boy,” you whisper, the title slipping out like a command. “Work for me.”

He obeys like he breathes—fast. His hands grip your thighs, pull you closer, and he uses his mouth this time—not gentle, not careful, but greedy. When his lips close around your clit, and your back immediately hits the door, rattling the frame. He’s competent; his mouth knows how to coax sounds from you, how to lap his tongue through your folds, how to curl it in the right place. He sucks, he sucks hard, and you can feel it all rolling through you—the tug and the release, the heat pooling and then building again.

You press a palm flat to the crown of his head and drive him harder, encouraging, demanding, not letting him take the easy route. You want him raw, you want him ragged; you want him making up for every single ache he’s caused you. You lean your weight into him, hips rocking as his mouth works miracles, and you start to bark orders—softly but stiff.

“Faster.”

“Mhmn—” he hums, wrapping his hands behind your thighs, pulling you closer.

“Keep your eyes up, Toby.”

He answers by sinking his tongue into your cunt, forcing the muscle into the sticky sweet slick of your last arousal. His eyes flutter and roll, his nose pressing against your clit as he swallows every taste of you.

He’s shameless now, hands slamming up your thighs, hauling you closer until the pads of his fingers dig into the soft of your waist. He crushes his face between your legs, breath hot and urgent, tongue darting, exploring. When his fingers slide from your leg to between them, worming their way to your entrance with his tongue, you clench, eyes rolling with the stretch. He moans against you, the sound vibrating right up into your pelvis, and the crude, honest worship of it makes heat flare up into your throat.

You keep talking, degrading in that perfect, stinging way that makes him whine harder, do more. Each insult you throw is an instruction, each barb a route to deeper compliance.

“You want this,” you tell him, voice low and hard. “You want to be thrown around. Admit it.”

He lifts his head, face flushed, lips slick. He meets your eyes and says it plain, breathy and broken, “I wa-want you to hate me. I want you to hit me and h-hurt me.” He nods, like a man confirming the one truth he lives for.

“You don’t even—hah—even feel pain.”

“Let’s play pretend.”

That’s all you need. You press him back with a casual force, pressing down on his shoulders and forcing him flat to the floor. His back hit the wood, hoodie riding up, and you didn’t give him the chance to keep talking. You climbed over him, straddling his chest, knees planted on either side of his shoulders, the weight of you pinning him like prey.

“Shut up,” you spat, leaning forward just enough that your shadow swallowed his face. “You want to fuck me so bad? You’re gonna fucking earn it.”

Toby’s grin only widened. His hands went to your thighs automatically, not pushing, not resisting—just holding, squeezing like he was anchoring himself to you. His eyes, those wild, fractured things, were locked on your cunt hovering above him. His mouth fell open on instinct, tongue flashing out in a shaky, eager swipe across his lips.

“Fuck—look at you,” you muttered, rolling your hips forward until you sat fully on his face. His nose pressed firm against your clit, his tongue sliding up and tasting you with a hunger that sent shocks all the way down your spine. “On the floor, exactly where you belong.”

The sound he made against you was half-moan, half-chuckle, and the vibration shot straight through you. You fisted his messy curls, forcing his head back into the wood, rocking yourself harder against his mouth.

“Open wider,” you ordered, voice sharp, breath catching. “You’re gonna take every bit of me.”

He obeyed instantly, mouth parting, tongue flattening and dragging in long, desperate licks. He was sloppy, unashamed, drowning himself in you. Every time your hips rolled down, he groaned like he was savoring it, like he’d starve if you moved away. You ground against him harder, chasing the rhythm, riding his face with purpose. The slick sounds of his tongue working you filled the room, obscene and perfect. Toby’s hands clamped tight on your thighs, pulling you down harder, like he wanted to suffocate under you.

“Stupid weirdo,” you hissed between gasps, yanking his head tighter into your heat. “This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it? My pussy—fuck—my fucking hands on you.”

His answer was a muffled, ecstatic noise, hips bucking up from the floor uselessly. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t joke, couldn’t bite back. He could only take it—your weight, your rhythm, your degradation. He moaned into you again, and you felt the sound rip through your core.

You leaned back slightly, fingers twisted cruelly in his hair, your thighs trembling as his tongue curled just right, hitting that spot over and over. You threw your head back, breath breaking into ragged gasps, staring up at your ceiling just like you had a couple of nights ago—imagining how he would feel against you. It made your heart burn.

“God—fuck, Toby—don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. His mouth latched tighter, tongue flicking, sucking, devouring like it was oxygen. You rode him through it, thighs squeezing against his head, grinding down until the pleasure crested sharp and overwhelming.

When it hit again, it was violent. You clamped down around his tongue, body shuddering, a cry tearing itself from your throat as you came hard, grinding his face through the waves. Toby moaned with you, greedy for every second, every twitch, every slick pulse. The overstimulation was already building, your body growing so tried. You slumped forward on shaking thighs, chest heaving, still tugging his hair, forcing him to lap at you while aftershocks rolled through. Only when your muscles gave did you finally lift off, dragging your heat from his face and watching as he gasped for air, lips and chin wet, eyes glazed and wide.

You smirked down at him, breathless but still sharp. “Look at you. So pitiful.”

Toby laughed—hoarse, shaky, half-mad—licking his lips like he couldn’t bear to waste a single taste. “Do it again,” he begged, voice raw. “Please—ride m-me again.”

“Nah.”

Your thighs trembled as you rose off of him, knees shaky, breath uneven. Toby’s hands pawed uselessly at the floor, still reaching, still begging—but you ignored him. You staggered to your bed, hips heavy with the ache he left behind, and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. The sheets were cool against your burning skin, and you stretched out, lazy and languid, your feet still dangling over the edge, your back arching with the natural curl of exhaustion and satisfaction.

Behind you, you heard him scramble up—the shuffle of knees, palms on the floor, the frantic sound of him scurrying like a dog chasing its master.

“Stay.” The single command cracked through the quiet like a whip. He froze. “Don’t you fucking move.”

You didn’t need to see him to know he was obeying—you could feel the tension rolling off him, could almost taste the way he wanted to lunge forward, to drag his mouth back where it belonged. You felt his eyes bore between your legs, onto the mess he had created now cooling on your skin.

“P-Please…” Toby’s voice was a rasp, thick with need. “Please, let me—let m-me touch you—”

“I said no.” 

Your words were final, and they cut. You heard him groan, guttural, muffling it into his fist. A second later, the sound of teeth scraping against knuckles filled the air—he was biting down hard just to keep himself quiet. You turned your head slightly, gaze dragging to where he stood, and what you saw made a laugh roll out of you, low and cruel.

Toby was doubled over, one hand fisting in his hoodie, the other clawing at the waistband of his jeans. The bulge strained hard and obscene against the denim, and he rocked into it like he could grind the ache away. He looked half feral, pupils blown, mouth wet, hair hanging in his face. Pathetic. Perfect.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” you teased, voice lazy with amusement. You knew it didn’t really hurt him, but he wanted to play pretend, didn’t he? “Can’t even move without thinking about me, huh?”

He groaned again, louder, his body jolting with the effort of restraint. His knuckles were slick with spit where his teeth dug in, and his free hand gripped his jeans like he could tear them open. You laughed again, sharper this time, and rolled onto your back. Your legs hung off the edge of the bed, feet brushing the floor, and you spread your knees wide, lazy and taunting. The motion was deliberate—an invitation, a cruelty, a display he couldn’t resist. It didn’t matter if he had already made you cum twice, you needed him to fuck you right now just to prove a point.

You were going to make this boy cum all by yourself. Not the idea of you, not his imagination—yourself.

“Go on, Toby,” you murmured, voice dripping with control. “Come here.”

Toby nearly tripped over himself getting to you, stepping between your dangling legs like he belonged there—like he had been waiting his whole life for it.

You leaned up onto your elbows, reaching a hand out to the edge of his waistband. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling in jagged heaves as your fingers toyed with his belt, tugging it open with a cruel kind of patience. The metallic clink of the buckle rang loud in the quiet room, and Toby’s hands twitched at his sides, useless, trembling, aching to reach for you.

“Keep them there,” you warned without looking up. “If you touch me without permission, you’re done.”

He whimpered softly—pathetic and desperate—and forced his arms straight at his sides, fingers flexing, curling into fists as though nailing himself to the spot.

You unzipped his jeans with a sharp tug, knuckles brushing the hard swell pressing against the fabric. Toby hissed through clenched teeth, head falling back, the veins in his throat standing out under the dim light. You smirked, tugging the thick fabric apart, and then slid your hand under his waistband, under the last barrier.

The heat of him hit you first—feverish and pulsing. You pulled him free, and your breath caught despite yourself.

Toby’s cock was flushed, angry red, the skin tight and stretched, a bead of slick shining at the tip. His breath came out in a stutter when the cool air touched him, his thighs trembling under your gaze. He was thick in your hand, twitching, the veins standing out like cords beneath your grip. His pubic hair was just as messy and unkempt as the rest of his hair, running up in a smattered patch to his belly button, coaxing your eyes to the mouthwatering crease of his v-line.

You let go of him, rubbing that hand between your legs, wetting your hand with your own slick. Toby’s teeth practically chattered as he thrummed, watching you.

And you didn’t give him mercy. Not even a second. You dragged the same hand you’d just rubbed against your soaked core up his shaft, coating him in your slick before your fist wrapped around him fully. Toby nearly folded in half, a broken noise tearing from his throat as his knees buckled.

“Fuck—” his voice cracked.

You stroked him hard. Fast. Cruel. Your hand pumped with purpose, each stroke wet, obscene, loud in the heavy silence. His cock twitched violently in your grip, swollen and desperate, precum smearing across your knuckles as you worked him like you were wringing every ounce of need out of his body.

Toby ripped his hoodie off like it was strangling him, yanking it over his head and tossing it blindly aside. His chest was pale, scarred in streaks that caught the dim light of your room, his stomach taut and flexing with every jerk of your hand. His hair clung wild to his forehead, his lips slick, swollen, parted in ragged gasps. He looked ruined—an animal panting, feigning for you.

And fuck, you hated him. You’d always hated him. Hated the way he laughed, the way he berated you, the way he made everything harder than it had to be. But now—seeing him above you, trembling, literally begging for the mercy of your hand—something deep and feral cracked open inside you.

You tightened your grip and stroked faster.

Toby’s whole body jerked. His hands shot forward instinctively, clamping around your wrist, not to stop you, but to slow you down. His face was wrecked, eyes glassy and pleading, mouth falling open around broken words. “Please—please slow d-down—fuck, I—” He groaned, panting above you, chest heaving with every groan. “You’re—you’re gonna make me—fuck—too fast—”

Your grip went iron-tight for a moment, jerking him so hard his hips jolted forward—then you stopped. Let go.

Toby gasped, his body shuddering as the sudden loss ripped through him. His cock bobbed helplessly in the air between you, slick and flushed, veins throbbing as if the blood inside him had nowhere else to go. His chest heaved, mouth open, eyes wide with disbelief.

You stared up at him, pure venom in your gaze, lips curling into a cruel little smile. “What did I say, Toby?”

His gaze shot down to where his hand still gripped yours.

“I told you not to touch me,” you hissed, shaking off his hand like it disgusted you. “But you couldn’t help yourself, could you? Can’t listen to anything.”

The mockery in your voice carved him open. He whined, stepping back an inch as if it physically stung, his cock twitching painfully in the air between you. Then, without warning, you sat up. Toby’s eyes darted down, confused, hopeful, but then widened when your hands went to the hem of your shirt. You peeled it off in one slow, deliberate motion, baring yourself, and tossed it carelessly aside.

His breath stuttered. He looked like you’d punched him in the gut. You leaned forward again, close enough that your breath fanned against his chest, eyes locked on his ruined face. You didn’t touch him. Not a single brush of your hand. You just sat back a little and watched. Watched as his hips twitched, as he tried to will himself not to reach for you again, as his cock leaked and throbbed helplessly, straining toward the heat of your body.

He writhed in it like it was killing him. His hands fisted at his sides so hard his knuckles cracked, his chest heaving with harsh, uneven gasps. His jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple. The desperation turned sharp, ragged.

“F-Fuck you,” he spat, the words rough, guttural. “You—you fucking t-t-tease—you think you’re—gah-goddamn better than me?”

You tilted your head, smirking cruelly. “I don’t have to think it.”

His huff came out half a snarl, half a whimper. He shifted on his feet, cock jerking violently, his whole body tight with the strain of keeping his hands off you.

“Don’t—don’t fucking d-do this,” he begged through gritted teeth, but even his curses broke into something needy. “Goddamn bitch—you can’t—fuck—you can’t just stop—”

“Oh, I can,” you murmured sweetly, leaning back on your elbows so your chest arched and his eyes dropped helplessly. “I told you not to touch me. You broke the rules. Now you get nothing.”

He actually growled, low in his throat, head dropping forward as he cursed again. His words were broken, a tangle of hatred and begging, teeth grinding as though if he didn’t use them to form insults, he’d cry out something weaker. “Fuck you—fuck—you’re s-so goddamn—” He groaned, thighs trembling. “Please, please—I’m begging you—don’t l-leave me like this—I’ll d-do anything—you h-hear me?”

The sound of his voice like that—shattered, strung out, caught between curses and pleas—shot straight through you. It stirred something low and hungry in your gut, made your skin prickle with heat. You smirked lazily, stretching your legs a little wider, making sure he saw everything. “You hate me so much, Toby,” you taunted, voice low, sultry. “So why are you begging me like a dog?”

He stared at you, jaw twitching with irritation. You tilted your head at him, lips curling into something cruel. His chest was heaving, his cock red and leaking, his fists trembling at his sides, and you knew he was about to break.

You dragged the knife in deeper.

“Aww,” you cooed, sliding off the edge of the mattress and rolling over onto your stomach. You crawled forward a little, your hips swaying as you moved further up the bed. Toby’s eyes followed every inch, wide and wild, his whole body shaking like an animal straining against its leash.

Then you stopped, sank down onto your elbows, your chest pressing to the sheets. You arched your back so hard it burned, your ass high in the air, cunt fluttering in time with your heartbeat. You glanced back at him over your shoulder, your voice low.

“Then come here, puppy.”

The word cracked him in half.

Toby didn’t hesitate. He scrambled up onto the bed so fast it shook under his weight, knees digging into the mattress as his hands clamped down hard on your hips. His boots scuffed the sheets, twisting them under his knees as he pressed behind you. His grip was bruising, frantic, like he thought you might slip away if he didn’t anchor you. 

He slammed into you without hesitation, the force brutal and reckless. His cock drove deep, fast, urgent, and you gasped from the sharp, animalistic impact. He was panting, growling, releasing all the frustration, all the rage he’d been holding back, smashing into you like he’d intended on tearing you open.

“God—fuck!” he hissed, voice ragged, teeth clenched. “You—you’ve ruined me—stupid—fucking—”

You gritted your teeth, holding the bedspread tight, letting him feel your every shiver and thrum, every gasp and muffled cry. You pressed back against him just enough to meet each brutal thrust, riding his anger as much as he rode you. His hands clenched your hips tighter, dragging you back onto him with each slam. His motions were messy, desperate—no care for rhythm, only a need to fuck, to bury himself inside you, to release everything pent up in the past week. The bed creaked and groaned under the weight of you both, sheets twisting, skin slapping against skin.

“You—fuck—you f-feel so—God!” he cursed again, voice breaking. “So good—stupid b-bitch, you’re mine—”

“Yours?” you spat back, tone sharp and mocking. “You’re the one—hah—the one begging to fuck m-me—”

That stoked something further in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, reckless, as though trying to drive every ounce of need into you and make you feel his desperation. His growls turned to raw moans, voice trembling as he ground into you without restraint. One hand pressed against your back, the other gripping tight into the sheets beneath.

You could feel the stretch of him, hot and hard, sliding inside you in short, punishing jolts. Your stomach twisted, thighs pressed tight together, arching deeper with every slam, taking his animalistic pace.

The bed rocked under you, nails clawed into the sheets, every movement messy, filthy, primal. He was broken, panting, utterly at your mercy, and you turned your head to watch, smirking as he cursed and groaned, burying his face in your neck for support.

His lips found purchase, dragging wet, sloppy kisses along the sensitive skin there. A shiver ran through you, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your throat. Your hands shot up, tangling in his hair, yanking him closer to you, forcing his mouth against your skin as you pressed back against him, matching each thrust, each grind, each slick slide with your own desperate, hungry movements.

He groaned against you, teeth grazing your neck, and you bit back—literally—snapping your teeth down on his lower lip as he kissed you, mouth opening against yours in a collision of teeth and tongues. The kiss was violent, messy, consuming—an echo of the chaos that had always defined your dynamic. You shoved your body flush against him, hips rocking, back arching, dragging him as close as you could manage, fingers twisting in his hair like you were trying to tether him to you entirely.

“Fuck, I’m—” Toby rasped against your lips, breath rough, voice trembling. “I-I’m about to—shit, don’t stop—”

But you weren’t having it. Not yet. Not when you had the power, not when you could control him fully. With a sudden, deliberate push of your hips, you shoved him off of you, rolling the two of you until he landed on his back with a soft thump, sheets twisting beneath the force.

You straddled him immediately, knees planted on either side of his hips, pressing down with calculated weight. The shift of power was instant—Toby’s hands went to your hips instinctively, trying to find purchase, but you leaned back slightly, letting gravity work for you as you sank down onto him, his eyes watching as your cunt sheathed him.

“Mine,” you murmured, voice low, sharp, and all teeth and heat as you began to rock, rolling your hips forward and back with controlled, measured force. “This is mine from now on.” 

He gasped, gripping your thighs, still trying to reclaim some sense of command, but you moved faster, harder, hips pushing down and pulling back like a pendulum. Toby’s head fell back against the mattress, hair tousled, lips parted in ragged moans, eyes glazed and desperate. Every thrust from you hit him with a sharp, relentless rhythm that had him gasping, shivering under your control. His hands gripped your hips, nails digging into your skin, begging, pleading, but you were merciless. You refused to move up and down, only dragging your hips back and forth, catching your clit on the tone of his pelvis.

“You like this?” you spat, leaning forward, pressing your chest against his, teeth brushing along his collarbone. “You like being mine, don’t you? Finally listening.”

“Yes! Fuck—yes!” he rasped, voice breaking, hands clinging to you. “You’re—fuck—you’re killing me—god, I’m y-yours—please—”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a wild, consuming kiss, tongue slipping inside to tangle with his as your hips rolled again, faster now, driving him closer to the edge. 

“You whine too much, puppy.”

You leaned up slightly, pressing your palms flat against his chest, letting your fingers wander over the taut planes of his abs. The heat radiating from him was insane, skin burning, muscles tight under your touch. Slowly, you dragged your hands higher until your fingers latched onto the familiar groove of his throat—the place where all of this had started, where this little game had started between you.

Toby’s breath hitched immediately. His hands shot to your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you as he thrust upward into your cunt. You gasped at the sharp, thrilling impact, the way his body forced yours down, bouncing you against him. He didn’t even hesitate—he wanted it, craved it, and he wasn’t holding back.

“Did you jerk off like this—hnngh—the first time I choked you? This fast?” you spat, voice low and sharp, watching his eyes begin to water.

“I—fuck—yes!” he rasped, tilting his head back, mouth open in ragged gasps. His hands slid higher, cupping your tits roughly, thumbs teasing, squeezing, forcing your movements to match his rhythm of jerking his hips up into you.

You grinned, biting down on your bottom lip as the chaos of it hit you. He was giving, he was taking, every motion messy, raw, and beautiful in its recklessness. You bounced down onto him, hard, each bounce of your hips shoving his cock deep, his hands clawing and forcing your body to meet his own.

“I hate you,” you hissed, brushing teeth over his collarbone, letting your grip tighten around his throat. “I hate you. I hate—hah—hate you. Fuck—don’t stop.”

Toby choked, face flushing against the grip on his neck, his breathing becoming labored. “Fu-Fuck—Fuck you bitch. Feels s-so—mmmnh—so good—” His hand reached around and slapped across your ass, grabbing the flesh in his palm and forcing your hips faster, forcing your pace to match his desperate thrusts.

You responded in kind, hitting his face with your palm once, twice, letting the sharp sting mix with the slick, hot heat between your bodies. He didn’t care. He couldn’t feel the pain, the slap, the rough hands on his chest, and it made him buck harder, moaning and growling in pure, unfiltered need. You slapped him again.

Toby’s growls turned sharp at that, low and dangerous, cutting through the thick, humid heat of the room. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, nails digging into your flesh as he thrust up against you. “You feel too fu-fucking good,” he spat, voice rough, teasingly cruel. “I’m gonna m-make you cum fi-first, bitch.”

“Oh, are you kidding?” you shot back, slamming down hard on him, hands wrapping tighter around his throat, eyes wild. “You’re gonna cum like the pathetic little pervert you are.”

His laugh was harsh, raw, vibrating against your hands. “You always h-have to—fuck—have to have a comeback—can’t j-just be quiet—”

You cut him off with another slap, your nail cutting his cheek where you hit him. A thin line of blood welled, and Toby stared at you through wide, frantic eyes. He grabbed harder, leaving dark purples across your hips and waist where his nails dug deep, tracing patterns only he could leave, marking you as his even as you marked him.

The room was chaos: skin slapping against skin, groans and curses tearing from both of you, bodies slick with sweat, hair wild and tangled, breaths ragged. Each thrust, each grind, each sharp slap or bite escalated the tension between you, a dangerous dance of dominance and pain and raw, primal need.

“C-Cum” he growled, tilting his hips, driving into you with bruising force, knocking the head of his cock against your cervix.

“Not before you,” you shot back, grinning fiercely, rolling your hips to match his pace, nails digging into the taut plane of his stomach as you leaned down to bite at his jaw, licking up his cheek to the spot you nicked him. Blood and sweat mixed, hot and sharp on your tongue, and it only pushed you both harder.

His hands dug into your thighs and waist, leaving angry red marks, dragging you down, forcing you to ride him with every ounce of strength and ferocity. You matched him blow for blow, bite for bite, scratch for scratch, until the two of you were a mess of raw, gleaming skin, bruises and blood painting the chaos of your struggle.

“I’m—fuck, Toby—fuck I’m coming—” you cried, digging your nails into his chest.

He whined, staring at the heavy way your eyes looked, his beginning to flutter shut. “Mhm—I c-can’t—hnn, I can’t stop—I’m gonna—”

Teeth sank, nails scraped, hips slammed, and finally the tension broke in a violent, shuddering peak. You both came together, voices strangled, wet, raw, bodies shaking, muscles trembling, bruised and marked and utterly wrecked. He snapped his hips one final time, and your cunt clenched against him so hard you felt the way he pulsed inside you. Every rope of hot cum filling you, claiming you. You milked every drop from him.

You collapsed against him, chest pressed to his, hearts pounding in furious synchrony. His breath came in ragged gasps, head tilted to the side, lips red, eyes glazed. You looked at him, smirk twisting across your lips even through the haze of post-climax heat.

“You’re disgusting,” you murmured, voice low, laced with satisfaction.

“And you’re worse,” he shot back, voice hoarse, smiling anyway despite the blood and mess.

For a moment, the fire between you softened just enough to let something else creep in. Your lips met his, sharp at first, teeth grazing, tasting the sweat and salt—but then, slower, gentler. The anger and frustration that had fueled you for the past two weeks melted, just for a second, into something almost tender. You kissed him, ignoring the slick heat still clinging to your thighs, the marks you’d left on each other, the bruises that would ache for days.

When you finally pulled back, your chest heaving, you allowed yourself a smirk, wet and satisfied. Slowly, achingly slow, you sat up, straddling him for one last lingering moment. He watched as your hips rose, his hands brushing your knees as you pulled him out, hissing at the tug before the final pop.

You felt the warmth slipping down your thighs immediately, his cum and your arousal making your cunt uncomfortably warm and sticky. You groaned.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, hitting his chest, Toby’s eyes nearly damn sparkling at the sight of his cum dripping out of you.. “You really are a damn dog.”

You collapsed onto the bed next to him, letting your arms fall across your chest. Your foot connected sharply with his side in a lazy, spiteful push. “Go away,” you muttered, tone sharp but breathless, still buzzing from the aftermath.

Toby groaned softly, but he didn’t move. Instead, he kicked his boots off with a quick, clumsy motion, then tugged the remnants of his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down, surprised how they had managed to still stay on at all. He tossed them onto your floor. His eyes flicked to yours—but there was no pleading, no frantic edge this time. 

Without a word, he crawled up next to you, chest brushing yours, arm draping loosely over your waist. You flinched slightly at the contact, the lingering warmth between you both still slick and potent, but the anger had faded into something heavy, intimate. Tense. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the raw, unspoken agreement that had finally, messily, solidified between you.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You could feel him, warm and pressed against your side, heartbeat rattling in sync with your own. Your hands twitched, itching to push him away or move out of his reach—but instead, you let the silence settle, letting his arm lay limp across your waist.

Toby shifted slightly beside you, his fingers rubbing against your skin absentmindedly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You know,” he muttered, voice low and tired, “I re-really don’t like being c-called a dog.”

You arched an eyebrow, smirking, reaching for your pillows and placing one under your head. “Then maybe you shouldn’t beg me like one.”

He rolled his eyes, but his gaze stayed locked on yours, sharp and intense, and you felt a flutter in your stomach you hadn’t expected. “Stop staring at me like that,” you said quickly, voice catching slightly. “You’re being weird. Go back to your own room already befo—”

He cut you off with a soft chuckle, leaning a little closer. “Can I k-kiss you again?” His tone was cautious, different from the heated demands of earlier, almost vulnerable.

Your heart thumped, and you stared at him, eyes flicking between his and his mouth, searching for something you couldn’t quite name. The air between you thickened, tense and electric.

Finally, you shook your head slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “I hate you, Toby. That’s not going to change,” you said, flat but not cruel, voice almost a whisper.

Toby’s smile widened, slow and knowing, as if he’d been waiting for that. “Then hate me,” he murmured softly, leaning in.

And then he kissed you. Not hot, not frantic, not messy and angry like before—just a kiss. Soft, slow, a quiet brush of lips, a grounding anchor in the aftermath of a hurricane. It was a moment of connection, a fleeting affirmation that despite the violence, the teasing, and the mess of the past weeks, there was… something between you. Affection, of a sort neither of you had admitted until now. A weird type of longing.

When you pulled back, your foreheads brushed together for a second, eyes flicking to one another with something like understanding. No words were needed—just the weight of what had passed, and the subtle promise that, messy and complicated as it was, this was far from over.

But then you palmed his face, pushing his head away from you with a grin. He smiled against your hand, kissing it, too. His arm around your hip pulled you closer, and if you leaned into it, that’s nobody’s business but your own.

── .✦

The mission site was scattered with debris, slick blood, and the lingering metallic tang that you knew you’d have to clean up. The proxies moved efficiently, hauling bodies, wiping down surfaces, and gathering evidence, but you and Toby, as usual, couldn’t go five minutes without trading insults.

“God, you’re useless at this,” you snapped, throwing a wet rag at him that stunk of bleach and vinegar.

“I’m sorry Ms. Fucking Perfect, d-do it your damn self,” he shot back, voice sharp. You both glared at each other, daring the other to keep going.

Masky groaned behind you, rubbing his temples. “Are we still on about this? Just clean the goddamn blood.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stood and grabbed Toby by the arm mid-retort and yanked him up, dragging him with you. Masky shouted something, but you were already climbing the stairs and dragging him to the first storage closet you saw. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react further, you shoved the door closed behind him.

He barely had a moment to process before his hands were on you, lips crashing against yours in a fast, rough kiss. His tongue darted in, claiming, and your hands tangled up into his hair as he slid one hand down the front of your pants, fingers immediately finding their mark and pressing against your aching clit.

You gasped into the kiss, teeth clashing against his in a way that was half challenge, half need. His other hand clutched at your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, the chaos of the mission, the others, the world outside that small, cramped closet, ceased to exist.

And in that moment, you realized just how much had shifted between the two of you.

The bickering, the arguing, the constant pushing each other’s buttons—it was all still there. You still drove him insane, and he still managed to get under your skin in ways no one else could. But instead of letting it spill over, instead of making everyone else deal with the fallout, you’d found a… solution.

You snuck off during missions, hearts racing, to bite, lick, and fuck the tension out of each other. After dinner, when the others were distracted, one of you would find the other and drag them to some quiet area of the mansion and use their hands on the other, letting the frustration and irritation turn into heat that left you both gasping and sticky. At night, sneaking into each other’s rooms to whisper insults, spurring the other on just so they’d grab you and fuck you through the mattress. During missions, your trips taking longer because you’d have to stop and fight over who was going to give the other head first.

It was messy. It was reckless. It was everything the two of you had always been—and now, for the first time, it was satisfying. The anger became fuel, the hate became lust, and the fights that had once been a thorn in everyone else’s side became an intimate, electric game of control, dominance, and pure, unfiltered need.

And even as you found yourself pressed against him in this closet, hands gripping, hips sliding together, teeth clashing, gasps mingling with curses, you couldn’t help but smile.

Eventually, the door clicked open, and you both staggered out, breath still ragged, hands sticky, hair wild, but the world had resumed its usual pace. Toby followed a step behind, straightening his hoodie, adjusting his belt, hands now conspicuously idle. You fixed your hair, wiping the slick from your lips, tugging your shirt back down.

Without a word, the two of you fell back into your roles, hauling gear, wiping surfaces, and cleaning up the aftermath like the chaos of a few minutes ago had never existed. You moved in tandem with him only because necessity demanded it, but there was a subtle electricity in the air, just enough that you both noticed—but neither spoke of it.

Masky and Hoodie exchanged a look across the room, each raising an eyebrow. Hoodie whispered something inaudible, and Masky shook his head, muttering, “I don’t care. They’re quiet.” They were confused, but grateful that the usual bickering had been replaced by quiet efficiency. They didn’t care how it got to that point.

Kate leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing look in her eyes. She watched as you and Toby moved through the cleanup with the barest hint of coordination, eyes occasionally flicking toward each other in a way that suggested familiarity… maybe even fondness, if one squinted.

Sliding closer to you as you scrubbed a particularly messy patch of floor, she whispered, teasing, “What’s changed? I didn’t know you started liking him.”

You froze mid-swipe, wiping at the surface with one hand, and let your gaze drift lazily toward Toby. He was kneeling a few feet away, straightening a chair, annoyed and fidgeting as usual, completely oblivious to Kate’s question.

A slow, amused smirk curved your lips. “Nah,” you said, voice light as you stared at him. “I hate that boy.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

๑ back to my masterlists

One of his large calloused hands dragged against your skin moving to your mound. His thumb rubbed your clit up and down increasing your pleasure. You cried out at the intensity. You were so pent up today.

Izuku's grey speckled green locks brushed his forehead as he stared down at you as your eyes finally found his again. You had that dreamy smile after finishing and having your body finally relaxed.

Izuku was always so good to you. He was such a good husband. He always held you like you were a star made for him. He looked at you like you were the celestial body of his solar system. Everything about this man made you know in your heart that he was made for you and you him.

Which is why you had a very dangerous thought pop into your head.

You had visited a pelvic therapist on a whim a few times, wanting to strengthen your core again after so many kids but also really wanting to own your body back again.

Which is why you decided to try some exercises on your husband.

You squeezed your internal walls, pulling him in, in a drawing motion. Your muscles massaging and pulling him almost as if you were trying to suck him forward.

Immediately you saw Izuku’s eyes snap to the size of dinner plates. Emerald eyes clear with shock as he stared down at you. "Sweetheart what-" he couldnt finish his sentence as a wave of pleasure crashed in on him. He moaned loudly at the feeling.

Izuku was sure his soul was currently leaving his body. He loved you, so so much. But he loved your pussy like it was an extension of his own body. Which is why he would always be grateful for a chance to be inside it. But right now? He had never felt anything like this before.

A higher pitched moan left his mouth taking you by surprise. He was whining. Your big strong Number One ProHero of Japan husband was whining. You hadn't heard him whine in ages. It sent a thrum of pleasure to your clit as you grinned.

You tried tightening up and pulling inwards.

His whine turned into a deep groan. His face was red as he seemed to fail at something. "Oh no... oh no no no." His eyes rolled back into his head and you felt his hips jerk, his hands quickly fisting into the blanket to stop him from falling on top of you.

His hips jerked a second time and then you felt it. A hot delicious feeling of his cum inside you. Your husband was coming early. That hadnt happened in a long time.

A feeling of satisfaction filled you as you grinned. You reached around the both of you and moved your hand to his large balls. You felt the warm skin, massaging the heavy pulsing organ that had given you so many children. At your touch your husband moaned again, your name was a cry on his lips.

You let out a hum. "Good job, my love." You praised. "Come on, give me all of that load. I want your creamy cum inside my pussy. You can do it." You praised as he continued to twitch and pulse inside you.

Izuku groaned as his head dropped , his thighs still quivering. He felt so sensitive. So overwhelmingly sensitive. It felt like you were everywhere around him. Like he couldnt breathe without it being you.

He cried out and you saw a spark of electricity cross his body. He activated All for One as he pulled out of you and moved away from your leg hold.

Your husband was sitting on his heels, his hesd tossed back as he faced the ceiling. His heavy Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. Sweat glistening on his muscles as he took a moment to breathe without stimulation. He loved overstimulation but it had been a while and he had forgotten how overwhelming it was.

"Izuku? Are you okay?"

He shook his head. "No. I think... i think I almost died." He breathed out.

You laughed at the statement. A smsll smile went to his tired face as he flopped down to be half on top of you. He pulled you close, wanting you against his skin. "I felt like a teenager for a second there. I havent come that fast in years." He buried his face in your neck and wrapped his arms sround your body. "And massaging my balls baby? Shit, I thought you were trying to kill me."

You giggled as your hand went up to bury itself in his warm damp locks. "Sorry, Zuzu. So... I shouldnt do it again?"

You felt him stop breathing. His eyes opened and he lifted his head to look down at you. "Dont play with me, Y/N."

You burst out laughing at his reaction, a snort coming out as you buried your face into his chest.

"I'm serious. I want that tomorrow."