soots stuff

You hated Jeff.

The animosity between you two was less of a grudge and more of a permanent low grade infection that seemed to fester every time he entered your life.

He was the most reprehensible, loathsome man you had ever met. That chard thing having not only the appearance of an ash tray, but the intelligence and emotional bandwidth of one as well.

The only thing he was good for, really, was a cruel laugh to make yourself feel better.

Or a good fuck.

“Fuuuuck-“

The sound tore from your throat, low and guttural, before you could even think to stop it. You buried your face into his mattress, inhaling the scent of musky sheets and the vague odor of wet dog, desperate to muffle the sounds of your pleasure before that asshole’s name could follow.

Sadly, the physical reality of him was something you couldn't deny, no matter how much your brain tried to hate him. His admittedly huge cock was splitting you open from behind, stretching you in a way that made you feel both stretched and incredibly full. Somehow, he knew exactly how to angle his hips to hit both your gummy g-spot and your cervix all at once, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire pelvis

The hand splayed across the small of your back was probably to blame, forcing your trembling body into a sinfully exquisite arch that had you gasping and writhing beneath him, squealing in ecstasy.

“C’mon, you’re getting fucked like a whore, you might as well sound like one too.”

Unluckily for you, Jeff’s free hand made itself useful when he noticed you trying to smother your cries and moans.

Grabbing the back of your neck and the base of your skull he grabbed a healthy fistful and yanked—firm enough for it to hurt, but gentle enough to keep all of your precious hair intact.

“Shit, shit—Jeff you fucking asshole.” You whined, blood rushing to your already red cheeks in shame as you cried out his name.

“An asshole, huh? For being a slut—“ your walls fluttered at the insult, making him groan and stutter as he felt every twitch along his throbbing length. “For being such’a *slut*,” he repeated, more out of breath than before, “you sure are afraid to act like one!”

All you could do was groan, too fucked silly to formulate a proper response and too well aware that he would stop if you complained too much. Not due to his exceptionally fragile ego, but simply because he enjoyed a just reason to make anyone suffer.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.” He chortled, hand leaving your neck as you fell back down into the sweaty sheets below.

Cheek pressed into the mess of fabric, your eyes fluttered shut as an immense pressure began building in your abdomen—something *different* from your previous orgasms that night. It was a pressure that wasn't just in your stomach, but in your entire body, a feeling of impending explosion.

Before you could so much as part your lips to warn him, Jeff’s scarred hand returned to your body, slipping betwixt trembling thighs to your swollen clit that had been neglected for some time.

Pinching the sensitive nub with enough pressure to make you see white he rubbed it in circles between his fingers, leaning more weight into you as he did. His thrusts never faltered, but his breath did—a stuttered staccato of moans and gasps.

You fell in step alongside him, nearly screaming as your walls began to spasm and twitch. The sensation was overwhelming, a cascade of pleasure that felt like it was going to tear you apart. You were right there, on the edge of a precipice, and you knew he was about to push you over.

“Be good and make a mess for me, let it all out for me.”

At his command, you couldn’t help but oblige. Your sex gave one final seize before he came inside of you just as your walls forced his cock out, dripping a sticky, bitter substance in its wake.

“There we go…” he crooned, rubbing your clit through the aftermath of your orgasm, forcing you to squirt one more time before finally pulling away.

He seemed oddly proud and you couldn’t quite tell if it was of himself, or you.

————-

The ache between your legs had finally faded, but the memory of it remained—a phantom throb, a reminder of the last time Jeff had wrung you out and left you to dry on the sheets. Three days. It had been three days of blessed, maddening silence. Your apartment felt too big, too quiet without his heavy tread scuffing up your floors or his grunted complaints about your lack of edible food.

You missed him. And that fact was a more bitter pill to swallow than the cheap whiskey you were currently nursing.

That’s how you ended up on the fire escape, a thin metal platform perched on the edge of the woods. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant traffic. You wore nothing but an old, oversized hoodie and a pair of his boxers you’d stolen—the fabric worn soft and smelling faintly of him, a comfort you despised. Your legs dangled over the edge, swinging gently in the breeze, your eyes tracing the treeline where the city lights dissolved into darkness.

This was your ritual. A twisted form of birdwatching. You were waiting for the magpie, the one with the chard-skin and scavenger’s soul. Sometimes he’d emerge, and you’d trade barbs across the distance, a verbal sparring match that left you buzzing. Sometimes he’d climb the ladder, raid your fridge, and leave without a word. Most often, he’d climb up, pull you inside, and fuck you until the only thing you could remember was his name, before vanishing before the sun came up.

He was a ghost, a headache, and the most regular thing in your life. You hated how much you craved that awful consistency.

Tonight, the woods were still. The moon hung high and round, a sterile, perfect disk that made the shadows below seem deeper, more menacing. You took a long, slow sip from your bottle , watching the exhale of your breath curl and dissipate into the night. Just as you were about to give up, to retreat back into the hollow quiet of your apartment, a voice rasped from the darkness below, startling you.

“Lurking out here again? You gonna start paying rent for this ledge?”

The sound was a physical thing, a gravelly vibration that seemed to travel up the metal frame and straight into your bones. You didn’t bother looking down. You knew the shape of his shadow, the particular crunch his boots made on the gravel.

“It’s a better view than your face,” you called back, your voice raspy. “And it smells better, too.”

A low, rusty chuckle echoed up to you. Then came the sound you’d been waiting for: the groan of the old fire escape ladder as it took his weight. It protested with each rung, a rhythmic groan-metal-scrape that announced his slow, deliberate ascent. He wasn’t in a hurry.

He never was.

When he finally hauled himself over the railing, he was a study in beautiful decay. The moonlight carved him in sharp relief, highlighting the uneven, scarred terrain of his face. A fresh gash ran from his temple to his jaw, still raw and weeping. He was caked in dirt and what looked suspiciously like blood, and his clothes were torn in several places. He smelled of pine, damp soil, and something coppery and sharp underneath it all.

He stood there for a moment, a predator surveying his territory, before his eyes found yours. They gleamed in the dim light, dark and unreadable. He ran a grimy hand through his matted hair, dislodging a twig that fell to the grating with a soft clink.

“Rough night in the woods?” you asked, taking another drink of your well-earned booze.

He grunted, a non-committal sound, and moved closer. He didn’t sit, just loomed over you, blocking the moon. His presence was suffocating, a gravitational pull you both hated and craved.

“Something like that,” he rumbled, his voice a low vibration. “Figured I’d come see if my favorite pain in the ass was still up here acting like a gargoyle.”

He reached out, his fingers calloused and rough, and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence etched into his skin.

“Miss me?”

His question hung in the air, a challenge or a taunt—you couldn’t quite tell.

You flinched away from his touch, the brief gentleness feeling more insulting than a slap.

"Go fuck yourself," you muttered, swinging a leg back over the railing to retreat inside. "I was just enjoying the quiet before the garbage truck showed up."

He laughed, that same rusty, grating sound. "Liar." He didn't move to stop you, just watched as you clambered back through the open window, the boxers riding up your thighs. "You're all prickly because you're empty."

The word hit its mark. You were empty. Your fridge was empty, your apartment was empty, and the ache in your gut was a hollow, hungry thing. You spun around, glaring at him from the relative safety of your bedroom.

"And whose fault is that? You ate the last of my frozen pizza three days ago."

"So get more," he said with a shrug, finally swinging a leg over the railing to follow you inside. He moved with an unnerving grace, his big body fitting through the window frame with practiced ease. He landed on your floor with a soft thud, his boots tracking dirt and pine needles onto your clean rug.

"And what? Pay for it with the good vibes you bring into my life?" you shot back, crossing your arms. "I'm out."

He stopped, his head tilting. "Out of what?"

"Everything. Food. Alcohol. Patience." You gestured vaguely at him. "I'm not hosting you, you dickwad. We're not doing this here tonight."

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—disappointment?—in his dark eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual sullen indifference. He looked around your small apartment, his gaze lingering on the empty bottle on your counter.

"Fine," he grunted, turning back toward the window. "Don't get your panties in a twist."

"Where are you going?"

"Out," he said, his back to you. "To get a drink. Since you're all out of hospitality."

A ridiculous, desperate idea sparked in your mind. You didn't want to be alone. You didn't want him to leave, not really. But you couldn't stand the thought of him sulking in your space, a constant reminder of your own need. You grabbed a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from your dresser and shoved it in your pocket.

"Wait," you called out, just as he was about to swing his leg back over the railing. He paused, looking over his shoulder. "Don't break your neck. I'm coming with you."

He raised a scarred eyebrow. "Coming with me where?"

"You want a drink? I'll buy," you said, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. "But we're not going to a bar. And you're not coming back here. We'll go to your place."

A slow, predatory grin spread across his face. He saw right through you, of course. He knew you were just trying to maintain some semblance of control, to dictate the terms of this miserable arrangement.

"My place?" he chuckled. "You sure about that, sweet cheeks? It's a bit of a walk."

"I'm sure," you lied, slipping on a pair of boots. "Lead the way, caveman. Just try not to trip over your own knuckles on the way."

———

The air in the clearing was thick with pine needles and the heavy, humid stillness of the woods. You’d dragged Jeff out here because you were desperate to get a drink, and he had made the mistake of agreeing to come along.

You sat on a fallen oak log, legs swinging idly as you shook a bottle of cheap whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing against the glass. Jeff was slumped against a tree stump a few feet away, looking thoroughly unimpressed. He was staring at the ground, one boot kicked out, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You look like you’re waiting for a funeral,” you called out, cracking the seal on the bottle.

He looked up, his eyes narrowing. “I’m waiting for you to stop making me walk into the middle of nowhere for a sip of swill.”

“Gee, thanks for the hospitality,” you shot back, unscrewing the cap with a pop. “Open up. It’ll make me less annoying.”

You held the bottle out to him, offering the first pour without waiting for a verbal invitation. He didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, snatched the bottle, and took a long, desperate gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed it back, looking only slightly less miserable.

You took a swig yourself, grimacing at the burn. It was rough, but it did the job. You took another, more generous pour for yourself and leaned back against the log.

“Seriously,” Jeff grumbled, kicking a small pebble that skittered across the forest floor. “Why here?”

“Because it’s quiet,” you said, tilting the bottle back. “And because I needed to get you out of my apartment. You’re like a bad rash.”

Jeff scoffed, a sound that lacked any actual humor. “A rash that fucks like a freak. I’ll take it.”

You laughed, a sharp, short burst of air. “You think that’s the only reason I let you stay over.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watched you drink. The silence between you was comfortable in a way that felt dangerous. He shifted his weight, leaning his shoulder against the tree, the rough bark catching on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he finally said, his voice low. “But don't pretend you don't like it.”

You took another drink, letting the burn settle in your stomach. “I hate you, Jeff.”

“I know,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You’ve been saying it since the day we met. You hate that you need me as much as you do.”

You stared at him, the whiskey burning a hole in your gut. The confident smirk on his face, the way he so casually laid bare the ugly truth of your dependence, made you want to slap it right off his scarred mouth.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," you snarled, shoving the bottle towards his chest. He caught it easily, his expression unchanging. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? That I'm just some pathetic, needy thing who can't function without your magical, savior dick."

He took a slow pull from the bottle, his eyes never leaving yours. "I never said it was magical," he said, wiping his mouth. "But it's the only thing that shuts you up, isn't it? The only time you're not fucking complaining or moping."

The words hit you like a physical blow, because they were true. That was the part you hated most. He didn't just fuck you; he silenced the constant, chattering noise in your head. He gave you a moment of peace by drowning you in sensation, and you hated him for being your only antidote.

"You're a goddamn parasite," you hissed, scrambling to your feet. The world tilted slightly from the sudden movement and the cheap liquor. "You show up when you're hungry or horny, you take what you want, and then you crawl back into your little dirt-hole until you need something again. Don't you dare stand there and act like you know a single thing about what I need."

"I know what you want," he shot back, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. He stood too, his full height imposing in the dappled moonlight. "You want to be treated like you hate it. You want to be used so you have a reason to complain. You want to be able to point at me and say 'he's the problem,' so you don't have to look in the fucking mirror."

"Fuck you," you spat, turning away. "You don't know me."

"I know you better than anyone," he said, grabbing your arm. His grip was like iron, stopping you cold. "I know you hate your job. I know you hate your neighbors. I know you lie awake at night thinking about the woods. I know you hate being alone more than you hate me."

You wrenched your arm free with a violent jerk, the skin tingling where his fingers had been. "Let go of me," you seethed, your voice trembling with a fury so hot it felt like tears. "I'm not your fucking project. I'm not a puzzle for you to solve so you can feel smart or like less of a roach than you really are."

He just watched you, his infuriating calm a stark contrast to your raging emotions. He took another swig from the bottle, holding it out to you like an offering. "Then what are you?"

You looked from the bottle to his face—the smug, scarred, beautiful face that you both loved and hated with every fiber of your being. And you realized he was right. He was right about all of it. He was the problem, but he was also the solution, and that paradox was going to eat you alive.

"I'm done," you whispered, the fight draining out of you all at once. "I'm so fucking done with this."

You spun on your heel and started walking, not even sure which direction would lead you back to the city. You just needed to move, to get away from the suffocating truth of his words and the suffocating presence of his body

"Where are you going?" he called after you, his voice laced with the first hint of something other than cool indifference. Annoyance? Maybe even concern.

"Away from you!" you shouted back, not looking back. You stumbled over a root, catching yourself on a tree. The bark scraped your palm, but you didn't feel it. You just kept walking, deeper into the woods, away from the clearing and the man and the bottle of whiskey that held up a mirror you refused to look into.

_________

You stumbled through your front door, kicking off your boots with a clumsy, frustrated thud. The woods had been too cold, the air too thick, and the silence of the night had done nothing but amplify the gnawing ache between your legs. You wanted a drink. You wanted to be alone. You wanted to forget that you’d been so easily swayed by a man who treated you like shit.

You dropped onto the mattress, not even bothering to change clothes, and buried your face in the pillows. The exhaustion was absolute, dragging you under before your head even hit the foam.

The transition into sleep was violent, a sudden drop into blackness where time ceased to exist. You floated in the void for an eternity, then—you were suddenly drowning in heat.

It wasn't the suffocating dark this time. It was a wet, searing friction against your hip. You gasped, a ragged, involuntary sound that didn't belong to you, your body seizing in the sudden, sharp jolt of sensory overload. Your eyes snapped open, but they were unfocused, seeing only static and grey shadows.

You were on your bed. The sheets were twisted around your legs. A shadow loomed over you, blocking out the moonlight from the window.

It was Jeff.

He was on his knees between your thighs, his face buried between your legs. The reality hit you with the force of a freight train, your brain struggling to piece together the scene.

You were naked.

He was naked.

His mouth was buried between your legs, his tongue a rough, demanding muscle working you over with a fervor that bordered on aggression.

You couldn't help but moan, a long, shuddering sound that escaped your throat. Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more of that exquisite torture. Your walls fluttered and clenched around nothing, a non-physical tightness that you couldn't seem to scratch.

He pulled back slightly, a strand of saliva connecting his lip to your swollen clit. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, a predator inspecting its prey

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, dripping with satisfaction. "Still trying to act like you're so tough. Like you're better than me."

His hand moved to your hip, his fingers digging in hard, leaving bruises that would surely be there in the morning. "But you're not tough. You're just a needy little thing who can't get enough of my mouth."

He leaned back in, his tongue flicking against your clit, causing you to arch your back off the mattress. "So tight," he groaned, the vibrations traveling through your body. "You get so wet just from being close to me. Pathetic."

You gasped, the degradation washing over you, mingling with the intense pleasure. Your mind went blank, the only thought being of his mouth and the incredible sensation of being eaten alive.

He pulled back again, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wide. "Look at you," he said, his voice dripping with pride. "Look at how good you look when you're being used."

He leaned in, his tongue diving deep, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. "You're so good," he whispered. "So fucking good. You take it so well."

You came with a cry, your body shuddering, your walls clenching around his tongue, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you felt him swallow, his throat working as he took everything you gave him.

He pulled back, his face glistening with your arousal. He sat back on his heels, looking at you with a look of supreme satisfaction, a look of pure, unadulterated adoration.

"Good girl," he said, his voice a rough, whisper. "Such a good girl."

You lay there, gasping, your body still convulsing around the blissful sensation of his tongue. The air in the room was heavy, thick with the scent of sex and pine, and you couldn't bring yourself to care that you were completely bare and exposed to him.

Jeff didn't give you time to recover. He moved quickly, his large frame looming over you as he braced his hands on either side of your head. He didn't ask for permission; he didn't even look for a sign of consent. He just knew you were awake enough to take it.

"Open your legs," he commanded, his voice rough with lust.

You did as you were told, your body moving on instinct, parting your thighs to accept him. He groaned, the sound low and primal, as he positioned himself at your entrance.

He didn't tease. He didn't wait. He thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, hard stroke.

You cried out, your back arching off the mattress, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. He was huge, stretching you wide, filling you up in a way that made you feel both full and empty. He began to move, his hips snapping against yours, his thrusts deep and fast, driving you higher and higher.

"You're so tight," he grunted, his face contorted with effort and pleasure. "I can feel every inch of you. You're squeezing me so hard."

He reached down and grabbed your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, leaving bruises that would surely be mixed with the ones from his mouth.

"Look at me," he ordered.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark and intense, his jaw clenched tight.

"You're so beautiful when you're being used," he whispered, leaning down to kiss you. His kiss was rough and hungry, tasting of you and him. "So perfect."

He pulled back slightly, his thumb rubbing over your clit, making you gasp. "Such a good girl," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You take it so well. You're my good little slut.

You moaned, your body tightening around him, your walls fluttering as he continued to pound into you. The sensation was overwhelming, a cascade of pleasure and pain that washed over you. You felt like you were going to scream.

"You're so wet for me," he groaned, his breath hitching. "I can hear you. It's so fucking loud."

He shifted his weight, pulling your legs up onto his shoulders, giving him deeper access. The new angle made you cry out, your body shuddering, your toes curling.

"Take it," he ordered. "Take all of it. You're made for this. You're made to be fucked."

You couldn't speak. You could only moan and beg, your body moving in perfect sync with his. You were floating on a sea of sensation, your mind going blank, the only thing that existed was the feeling of him inside you.

He reached down and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck to him. "Look at you," he groaned, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're so beautiful when you're cumming."

He thrust deep, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, and you came with a cry, your body shuddering, your walls clenching around him. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and he came with a roar, filling you up, his seed spilling out of you as he pulled out and collapsed beside you.

Wearing your newest mini skirt, with his t shirt that you cropped, bunny slippers keeping your feet warm.

He loved you like this, but the sight of you not only wearing his clothes, but a tiny skirt as well? It made him painfully hard.

It also didn't help you decided to wear nothing under your tiny black mini skirt.

Your pretty pussy on display everytime the fabric rode up your thighs.

You were torturing him. He just had to sit idly by with raging boner, trying not to bend you over the nearest surface everytime your skirt hiked up.

But fuck, the way you kept teasing him, purposely bending over right in front of him for the most random reasons.

Every time his eyes locked onto your cunt he almost came right there, he was practically drooling every time the fabric revealed your folds.

He couldn't stand it anymore, the next time you bent over the kitchen counter, he snapped and in an instant his boner met your ass and his hands gripped your waist.

You yelped as he slammed his pelvis flush to your ass, looking back at him as he started grinding into you. He was desperate at this point, he whined and panted not caring how he sounded.

His hips were bucking into you, grinding on you with fervor, he was so needy.

You moaned as his clothed cock dragged against your bare pussy, the denim of his jeans grinding into you making you see stars.

"Toby!" You whined, looking back at him with half lidded eyes. "Fuck... A-always teasin' m-me.." he said, his dick still grinding roughly into your ass.

He pushed your head down, your cheek pressed up against the cold counter, you could hear him fidgeting with his pants.

Toby unbuttoned his jeans, sighing in relief as he palmed his cock through his boxers. He pushed his pants and boxers down in one go, the material bunching up at his thighs.

You moaned as you felt his cock slide through your folds, pre and slick mixing on his tip, your thighs were soaked from your combined fluids.

"l-look how wet... Been w-waiting for t-this huh baby?" He cooed, admiring how your arousal glistened on his cock.

You whined, pushing your ass back into him, making him groan as his cock head caught your hole. You nodded dumbly at his question, you'd been banking on this.

Everytime you flashed him you'd just wanted him to bend you over the nearest table.

"tobyy... Please..." You pleaded, tired of waiting. He let out a breathy laugh at your desperation, "s-so needy ..." He mocked.

You heard him suck in a breath, and he finally bottomed out inside you, you moaned as his hips met flush with your backside, grinding and thrusting into you fervorously.

His pace was fast and hard, taking all his frustrations out on your poor cunt.

Your cheek was pressed down hard into the cold counter, your back arched as he lifted your hips higher, angling you just right so he hit your sweet spot.

You were seeing stars as he fucked into you, the sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room, you sounded filthy. Moan after moan pulled from your lips.

He giggled at you, "look at y-you.." Toby said in awe, "This is w-what you wanted huh, slut?" He said, his hand finding it's way to your hair.

The tips of his fingers brushed the soft strands, his touch gentle despite his unruly pace. He was petting you, reveling in the softness of your hair, admiring how incredibly you it was.

Bringing his hand back down, his hand wandered to your skirt.

He hiked your skirt up, one hand gripped the fabric pulling you onto his cock even deeper, while the other held your hip.

You could feel Toby leaning forward, his chest laying flush against your back. His breath was fanning your neck as moans spilled from his lips.

"fuckk... B-baby you f-feel so... So.. Uh.. g-good..." He stammered out, whines breaking up his sentence. His voice was soft, the irritated edge from before lost.

The way his cock hit your g spot had you practically melting into the counter, your mind was going blank as all you could think about was Toby's cock that dragged against your walls.

He panted and rested his forehead on your shoulder, his cock still jackhammering into you.

He was babbling, small praises slipping out beside moans and whimpers, he was praising you even when this was supposed to be a punishment.

The way you clenched around him, the sweet sounds you let out, it was all so perfect.

You whined as he almost pulled out completely, bringing his hips back enough to where it was just the tip, then he slammed into you full force.

You felt like he knocked the wind out of you with how hard he was fucking you now, his pace somehow getting even rougher than before.

You could feel his teeth graze your skin, he left small kisses on your shoulder before biting down.

A throaty moan was pulled from your lips, your mouth hung open as your head rested on the counter. Drool slipping past your lips and onto the marble countertops.

You were a mess, drool seeped onto the counter, and your slick mixed with pre dripped from your cunt onto the floor everytime Toby brought his hips back.

Sex with him was always messy, especially when you got on his nerves.

That's why you always found yourself teasing him.

Toby whined as he rutted into you, even when he was trying to be stern he couldn't help but fall apart.

The way you felt so heavenly made him sob everytime, "oh.. you f-feel ssoo g-good..." He slurred with tears in his eyes, he was drunk on it at this point.

The way you clenched around him had him reaching his peak faster than expected. His thrusts got sloppy, his hips stuttering ever so often but still thrusting into you harshly.

"you— you're so beautiful b-baby... S'beautiful..." He babbled, complimenting you every time he bottomed out in you.

You could feel your own release building, heat pooling in your lower stomach, your whines getting higher as he brought his hand to your clit.

He rubbed slow harsh circles on your clit, the sensation making you clench around him.

You keened as you came on his cock, your release forming a creamy ring on the base of his dick, the rest coated the front of him.

The bottom of his shirt was soaked with your fluids, he was definitely saving this shirt for later.

He came shortly after you, he groaned as you felt his release coat your walls, the way he filled you up making your eyes roll back.

You moaned, his hips stilled as he finished spilling inside you, painting your walls and filling you up.

He stood there panting, gripping your hips for support. You tried to stand, you tried to push off the counter so you could get the two of you cleaned up,

But Toby's hold on your hips held you in place, you turned looking back at him, his head rested on your shoulder.

Then his hips slowly but surely started again, rocking into you, you whined as you pawed at him, you weren't sure if you were trying to push him off or pull him in.

"toby... it's t'much..." You groaned, his hips started picking up, his rough strokes making his cock drag harshly against your sensitive walls.

He breathed out a laugh as he bottomed out inside you, "M-maybe, you s-sshouldn't have been a tease."

I had to re write the end like three fucking times because Tumblr didn't want to save it :'( this probably sucks to sorry 😔

Dizzy.

That’s the first thing you thought when you woke up in the back of a car, barely able to pry your eyes open.

The sight in front of you was hazy, and the dim moonlight illuminating the car wasn’t doing much to help. It was hard to make out the details, but it looked like a man was driving.

Who is that…?

You tried to concentrate, but the whole car was spinning and it was so difficult to get your eyes to focus on anything. After a great deal of effort, you were able to start making out the features of the driver. It was a guy with messy brown hair, looked to be in his 20s, same as you. He was wearing a striped jacket and some gloves.

You squirmed around, trying to get a better look, when you felt your wrists catch. It took a few moments for you to realize your wrists were bound. You wiggled around some more, a woefully uncoordinated attempt to get them free.

The little struggling noises you had made when moving had captured the driver’s attention. He turned back to look at you. “You’re awake, huh?” His voice was a bit gruff, like he didn’t speak often. He cleared his throat a few times, his neck cracking to the side in tandem. “How’s your he- -fuck- head feel?”

“Dizzy… sso dizzy….” Your words came out horribly slurred, almost incomprehensible.

He laughed, a deep chuckle that normally would’ve put someone on edge but your head was too clouded for it to even register. “Good. Dizzy’s how I want ya.”

“Why’ss that? What’ss up with you?” You asked bluntly, clearly unaware of the danger of your situation.

“What’s up with me, huh?” He repeated your question, thinking over it a bit. He chuckled at you again. “That’s the -cough- question you decide to ask, huh? You’re weird.”

“Huh?” You were heavily confused by this conversation. “Why’m I tied up?”

He turned back, a sinister grin on his face that definitely would’ve left you fear stricken if you could think straight. “Don’t worry about that. Just go to sleep, pretty girl.”

As if he had cast a spell on you, you did just that. Your eyes fluttered shut, failing to maintain consciousness.

—

“Hey.” A voice called to you, sounding really far away. “Wake up, pretty girl.”

You could feel some light slaps on your cheek, but everything just felt so dampened.

“Shit. Did I give her -fuck- too much?”

It’s that guy…?

You felt him squeeze your face, shaking it from side to side. “Hey.”

You slowly started to open your eyes. Everything was blurry.

“There you are.” He sounded pleased. “I was -fuck- thinking you weren’t gonna wake up at all.”

You couldn’t focus your eyes at all. All you could tell was that the room was dimly lit, and there was a figure leaning over you.

“Where am I?” Is what you tried to say, but it came out slurred beyond comprehension.

“Shhh…” He pressed his finger to your lips with a sick little giggle. “Don’t try to talk. I gave you… a whole lot of drugs.” He smiled, almost mischievously, as if he played a prank on you.

“You sound sooo~ stupid anyways.” He kept giggling.

You turned your head, feeling the pillow on your cheek. It was definitely a bed you were laying on. You just needed a moment to get your head to stop spinning.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He grabbed your face, turning it towards him. Your eyes could finally focus a bit more for you to see his face.

“Recognize me?” He asked. His hands snaked under your shirt, running his hands along your waist, unable to suppress the urge to touch you all over.

Your eyes flitted over his features. He had dark brown hair that messily fell into his dark eyes, pulling together with the rest of his features in a sort of rugged attractiveness. What really caught your eyes, though, was the huge gash that spanned across his left cheek. It went all the way through to his teeth, and the edges were ragged and scarred. It was horrific and yet intricately gorgeous.

When you failed to reply, he kept talking. “Probably not. You’re -fuck- not too smart.” He giggled again, running his hands all up and down your sides.

“But that’s okay, cause you’ve got this going for you.” He moved both his hands to your face, cupping it. He stared at your face like he was entranced by you.

“Fuck…” He cursed, voice low. “You’re so fucking cute.” His breath shook as he leaned in to kiss you, just once, gently. He had a big grin on his face as he pulled away. Your eyes were so dazed.

“Oh, you probably don’t understand a thing I’m saying to you, do you?” He cooed. “It’s like your brain has stopped -fuck- working.”

“Not that it did much before though.” He giggled as his neck jerked to the side violently. “That’s why you don’t recognize me, huh?”

Evident by the expression on your face, you still weren’t reaching any conclusions. He booped your nose. “Alright, I’ll give you a hint.”

He couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face as he watched your eyes slowly follow his movements. He also couldn’t help the laugh that burst from him when he saw the realization hit your eyes. It was so slow, your eyes went to the goggles first, then the mouth guard, and finally your eyes did a full sweep across his face before the cogs turned just enough for you to have an epiphany.

His laugh turned cruel as he took the items off and threw them aside. He wanted you to get accustomed to seeing his face without all the stuff he used to cover it when going out. “Do you get it now? Good job.” He mockingly praised, squeezing your face again.

“You stare at me so much I wonder how it took so long for you to figure it out.” He ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips lightly brushing against your neck.

You now realized that you did know this guy. Or rather “know” was a bit generous. You’d seen him, countless times at your job. He would come into the corner store all the time. Always late at night or egregiously early in the morning, always acting kinda sketchy.

“Your eyes were always on me. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” His hand slid down to your collarbone, continuing its slow descent.

“Was it out of fear? Or suspicion? Or maybe… Arousal?” He suddenly shoved his hand under your shirt and bra all in one go, roughly squeezing your breast.

“Either way, you were the only person that looked me in the eyes. That’s how I knew I just had to have you.” He continued to monologue, palming both your breasts now.

“You made it so easy, y’know? Talking so loudly to your coworker about the bar you were going to tonight. I -fuck- I got jittery just thinking about how easy it would be to just -fuck- take you.” He could barely finish his sentences with how much he was twitching and laughing, constantly interrupting himself.

”You’re just so oblivious. Didn’t even notice a thing when I slipped the drugs in your drink. You really didn’t stand a chance, poor thing.”

He twisted your nipples so harshly that it hurt. You winced in pain, much to his amusement. “Especially since you were so distracted by that guy.” For a moment he looked angry at you, but the expression dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared.

“But I took care of that? Didn’t I?” He smiled at you again. That scared look of yours was so cute he just didn’t know what to do with you.

He started up that sick giggle again, unable to contain it anymore. “The way everyone screamed when they found his body in the bathroom. They all scattered like insects. That was priceless.”

He gave you an almost pouty look. “Too bad I didn’t get to see the look on your friends’ faces when they realized you were gone. They’ll never even know I’m the one who took you.”

“But it’s probably better that way.” He said before shoving your tight little top up, taking your bra along with it. He stared down at your exposed chest, your nipples hardening in the cool air. Those eyes filled with sick admiration snapped back up to yours. “Cause now you’re all mine.”

He couldn’t resist the urge anymore, plunging his tongue into your mouth, deep down your throat like he was trying to bury himself inside of you. Not an act of love, but an act of obsessive possession. It was like he wanted to become part of you, bury himself in your veins. He wanted to take over your mind. To alter your thinking until you bore an unbearable need for him, something you could never erase or hope to get rid of. An illness that was incurable.

Everything felt so fuzzy and all your movements felt delayed. You were starting to fade even more. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. It was working. He was taking over your mind.

When he finally pulled away, he was giving you that lovesick look again, like you were something he just adored. “Ohhhh, you’re even worse now, aren’t you?”

He stroked your hair like you were his precious little pet. “It’s like your brain has melted. Does it feel good? Do you like kissing?”

You were on the verge of passing out at this point, your consciousness fading fast.

He slapped the side of your face, just hard enough to get your attention. “Don’t go anywhere just yet, pretty girl.”

You rolled your head back on the pillow, your neck feeling weak and limp.

“Oh fuck.” He said, his voice low and breathy. “You’re fucking drooling.”

Once he said that, you realized you could feel it too. You lifted your arm to wipe it away, only to feel it catch, along with a clinking sound. You had to turn and look before your brain could reach a conclusion.

He breathed out a laugh when he saw you finally realize. “Does it scare you?” He asked, his hand wrapping around your wrist and gently running his thumb over it. “I know it’s wrong for me to keep you like this but… I just couldn’t help myself.”

He looked up at you, a wolfish grin on his face, and something shifted in his demeanor, his gaze somehow piercing through you. “Does that make me a bad person?”

You felt the air go cold around you as you held his stare, your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears.

Just as quickly as that look appeared, it disappeared, and he was giggling to himself again. “You’d probably think so.”

He sat back, settling right between your legs. His hands slid up your thighs and started pushing your miniskirt up, revealing your panties underneath. He bit his lip and let out a breath, shaking in excitement at the sight of the darkened spot on your panties where you’d already soaked through them. “That’s okay.” He mumbled. “You don’t need to use your brain anymore. Everything you think is useless anyways.”

He brushed his thumb over your clit through the panties, just a featherlight touch. He just wanted to test how sensitive you were in this state. Instantly, your hips bucked up. It was probably the fastest he’d seen your body move since he gave you the drugs. “Mhm… this is what you’re good for.”

He snapped out of his focus on your cunt when he heard a noise of protest come from you. That’s no good. He’d stop that behavior quickly. He climbed over you again, lacing his fingers with yours on the hand he’d cuffed. He pressed your hand deep into the mattress, his body pinning yours as his free hand pulled your panties off. “Don’t try to fight back. You’re wayyyy~ too weak from the drugs.”

He groaned as he slid his fingers through your slick folds, the wetness collecting on his fingertips. Breathy gasps poured from you as he teased your sensitive clit, swirling his fingers lightly around it. He was right. You were too weak, both from the drugs and the feeling of his touch, to do anything to fight him off. Your only option was to succumb to the pleasure.

He kept working your clit, leaning down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth. He lapped and sucked on it until you could feel the throb in your clit.

He had started up a rhythm sucking on your nipple, one that only sparked your imagination on what it would feel like if he did that on your clit. All the while, he was looking up at you, watching intently as your mind went blank. Perfect. He needed your head to empty for him.

He let go of your nipple with a little pop sound. “You’re so loud. You like it when I play with your clit? Verdammte kleine Hure.” He bit his lip, knowing he was already getting too riled up. He knew he should get better control of himself. If he played too rough with you he’d break you.

But it was already hard to keep himself in check, he was slowly losing the battle already. He hadn’t really done anything yet, and you were already this messy. You were so much better than he expected.

He got back to sucking on your other nipple while he rubbed firm circles around your clit. Each suck was sending a shockwave down to your cunt. When the sticky sounds of his fingers circling your clit started to ring out through the room it became too much for you. Your eyes rolled back as you had the most mind numbing orgasm you’d ever experienced.

His cock ached and throbbed when he teased at your entrance, feeling your cunt already fluttering before he’d even pushed his fingers in.

He was actually impressed with you. “Was für ein gutes Mädchen.” He praised, gripping your face before leaning down and licking a line up your cheek. He looked at you not just with the typical hunger of a man who wanted to fuck you, but with the desire to consume you, body and mind.

“You’re just so cute like this. I’d keep you like this forever but I like the way you are normally.” Although, internally he was weighing the merits of keeping you like this.

“You probably won’t like being kept once you’re sober again, but it’s fine. It’s just temporary.” He paused to amend. “You hating it, I mean. Don’t get confused, you’re staying here forever.”

“But it’s okay, you’ll learn to love it, to love me, as much as I love you.” He soothed, even though there was no real need. He could tell by the way you could barely keep your eyes straight that none of this was getting through to you. “And I’ll take such good care of you.”

Without warning he pushed a finger inside your cunt, loving the tight resistance that slowly gave way as he forced it inside. There was nothing more dizzying than feeling your walls part for him, letting him inside your deepest, most intimate area.

He worked his finger inside you a bit before adding a second, slowly pushing in until his fingers were fully seated inside you. He groaned as he felt them sink all the way into your cunt, gripping so tightly. “So nass für mich.”

Your body had almost gone limp at this point, and he was trying his best to hold himself back. He wanted to just slam his cock into you right now, but he knew he would ruin you if he dove in too quickly, no matter how pliable you are right now.

He started to pump his fingers in and out of you, hearing those weak little moans start to pick up. “That’s it. Fuckkkkk. Take it. Take it, slut.”

A thick sticky white substance started to accumulate on his fingers as he slammed them into you. He failed to suppress a growl, the same way he failed to suppress the urge to start palming himself through his jeans.

He started to mutter to himself, his voice low and husky. “Das ist deine Schuld. Du machst mich verrückt. Du bist einfach zu verdammt süß.”

He watched your eyes keep fluttering shut, your body wanting to fall unconscious. But every time he was close to losing you, he’d go harder and faster, until he was fingerfucking your cunt.

He buried his face in your neck, letting his desperate sounds fall loose as he bit and sucked marks into your skin. He let out a sound nothing short of feral when he felt your cunt start to clench around his fingers, milking them the same way you were about to milk his cock.

He kept his fingers moving, pressing your clit with his thumb to push your body to its limit. “Du wirst mir gehören, ob du willst oder nicht. Und wenn du versuchst zu entkommen würde ich dich zurückholen.” His voice was a breathy whisper in your ear, like he was casting a spell on you.

He got up quickly, yanking off his clothes. You were close to passing out again and he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let you miss the fun part.

He climbed on top of you once again, finally pulling off whatever fabric was still clinging to your body. He slipped off the miniskirt and threw it aside. He wanted to keep that for later. The shirt however, was going to be impossible to get off with one of your arms cuffed so he just ripped it off of you, throwing the tattered fabric off the bed.

Finally, he had you. He let out a shaky breath as he ran his hands down your body, taking in the sight of you fully exposed, all for him. “Du bist so verdammt heiß.”

He bit his lip as he gripped your thighs, pushing them apart and spreading you nice and wide for him. Your cunt was a sticky mess at this point, glistening in the low light of the lamp on the nightstand. You could barely hold your eyes open, but your hips still jumped when he rubbed his thumb over your swollen clit.

He tried to slow his breath. He was way too excited already, he knew that. Had to keep reminding himself of that. He pumped his cock a few times before lining it up with your entrance, another low groan rumbling in his throat as he coated the tip in your arousal.

He tried to go slow, he really did, but as soon as he felt how easily the tip was sliding in he couldn’t help but ram his cock all the way against your cervix at full speed.

You felt so good wrapped around his cock he hardly wanted to pull out at all, but after a moment he slowly pulled back, only to slam his full length into you harder. He set a brutal pace. “Fuckkkkkk, that’s good.” He groaned, breathing fast and shallow. “Does it hurt, pretty girl? You’ll get used to it. I swear.”

You were a blubbering mess, choked moans and whines pouring from you as he slammed into you as if his life depended on it. But it quickly became too much for you, the drugs, combined with the overwhelming force of his thrusts quickly made you lose your grip on your consciousness.

He didn’t slow his pace, even after you passed out. “So brav, mein gutes Flittchen.”

He was losing his mind. He never even imagined it being this good. Your body was so limp and pliant for him. He could fuck into you as hard as he wanted.

You were a sight to behold right now. Your eyes half open, neck fully marked up, and spread wide open for him, so easily. Your tits bounced with every thrust. Just the sounds in the room were downright pornographic. The loud slap of his hips hitting yours, the deep groans that he didn’t even try to hold back, and the headboard slamming against the wall as he pounded into with reckless abandon.

He felt his balls start to tighten. Fuck, he was already close. He had wanted to last longer the first time he had you, but it didn’t really matter. Now that he had you in his possession, he’d get to do this over and over.

He slapped your face hard this time. “Wake up, slut. You’re gonna miss the best part.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you gained awareness of what was still happening. He was fucking into you so deep, right up against your cervix. You were already about to come, just a few more thrusts from him and you were clenching around his cock.

“Goddamn. I can feel you coming for me.” He bit out, wrapping a hand around your throat. “You’re all mine now. Do you understand?”

His thrusts started to lose their rhythm, turning erratic as he chased the pleasure. His grip on your throat tightened with each brutal thrust. “Fuck, you’re fucking mine. You belong to me now. You’re all mine.” His voice started to crack as he spilled inside of you, shooting sticky strings of cum straight against your cervix.

He panted as he came down from his high. “Oh, fuck. You passed out again.”

He sighed. “Oh well. I’m not done with you yet.”

~pls remember to distinguish fiction from reality